Feed the Flames

-celine’s pov-

The way I see it, each life is different. Every being on this planet, human or otherwise, is capable of making their own decisions and going through the motions of life. Every being is entitled to their own life choices, and apparently some people find that shocking. Everyone is entitled to their own version of life, no matter if that makes someone else angry as hell or not. It’s not different fucking branches like so many people make it out to be. There isn’t a good path and a bad path, a right path and a wrong path; that shit just isn’t there. There is no fucking path until you start living. There aren’t any fucking lines until you make them. You draw the lines as you go along; you create a path as you walk. There is no wrong path. There is no right path. There is only the path you make as you live. Your choices define this path, your interests, your highs, your lows, your loves, your losses; those things define your life.

Most people’s paths only go on for so long before death stamps down a roadblock. Then that path is done; it’s over. No one else can walk it the same way that person did. No one can duplicate it. But when a life goes on for so long that death gives up on you…that’s a harsh path. When you find yourself actually thinking about your own path…that’s rough.

Vampires…Rogues…their paths were littered with bodies. So many that you can’t help but wonder what decisions brought them there. You can’t help but question how many of those people were turned against their will, having the future of their paths forever altered without their consent. How many of those people have been turned into vampires unwillingly? How many were forced onto a path of life that wasn’t their own?

‘Can you move on to something else, please?’ At the thought, I looked across from me at Mason, who was looking at my hands lying palm-up in his. ‘C’mon, focus.’

Narrowing my eyes slightly, I didn’t comply, curiosity meddling through my brain. ‘How many people have you turned?’

Mason kept his eyes on our hands, like he was attempting to ignore me but couldn’t. ‘Thousands.’

‘How many didn’t want to be…this?’ I kept my eyes on his face, though I saw no change in his expression. He seemed almost emotionless now.

‘Thousands.’ The word carried more weight than before, and it echoed around my head as we sat in absolute silence.

‘How many-’

‘Tried to kill themselves?’ Mason’s head snapped up then, his mismatched eyes staring into mine unblinking. ‘Hundreds’ The tone was malicious, and I flinched slightly at it. ‘I’ve seen people whom I forced this life upon try to off themselves in every way imaginable. You don’t know how unsettling it is to see someone put a bullet through their head and still be standing afterwards, breaking down into tears because they couldn’t end it.’

I didn’t know if I wanted to pose another question, but I did. ‘Where are those people now? Are they alive?’

Slowly, Mason moved his eyes back to our hands, moving his thumbs into my palms, grazing my skin. ‘I couldn’t take hearing their anguish. I could hear it all, their hate, their…their thoughts about their kids or siblings or parents that they wouldn’t be able to see anymore… They’re all dead now. I killed them, but if it weren’t for my connection to those I turn, they’d probably be dredging along through their own private hells.’

‘Overall how many people that you’ve turned are still alive today?’ I kept my eyes locked on Mason even though he refused to meet them.

‘One.’ Mason stopping tracing shapes in my palms and sighed. ‘It’s not like how you can hear my thoughts, you know. I have to want you to hear me for you to be able to hear my thoughts clearly. But me...’ Lifting his head, Mason finally locked eyes with me, taking my attention away from everything. Staring into his eyes was like staring into a void. One solid black, the other solid white, they didn’t stare at you, they stared through you. ‘I can see everything about you. I’ve watched your entire life like a movie from the moment you opened your eyes until right now. I’ve listened to every thought in your head, both past and present and I’ve listened to every conversation you’ve ever had. Every pain you’ve ever felt, I’ve felt too. I’ve done this in mere seconds, and I just did it again. Everyone else I’ve done that to I’ve killed, and you…’ He didn’t continue his thought, and silence overtook us for a moment. Finally, Mason shook his head, as if he was trying to get out any thoughts as he readjusted his hands under mine, refocusing his attention. “Enough about this, c’mon, focus.”

‘What about me?’ I still questioned, but his entire demeanor had changed, and I knew I wasn’t getting an answer as he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Exactly, we need to figure out more about you, c’mon now.” Mason changed his conduct so quickly I had no choice but to change and comply with his order.

We were sitting across from one another on the floor in the utility room, and only here because he said it was quiet. When I first asked him why not London or Hong Kong he told me he didn’t want to take me off the school grounds unless I wanted him to. The utility room was sufficient for what he wanted to do, however.

‘I can feel it, yes, I can trace out every vein in my hands and yours, but I don’t know what you want me to do about it.’ I was…getting tired, to say the least. My mind had wandered more than once as Mason continually attempted to get me to focus on the blood in my hands. He had poked and prodded on both me and himself, trying to see how exactly I could feel the blood. If when a vein was compressed I could feel the blood flow stop, if I could feel reverberations in blood, anything that he thought may help in figuring out what exactly I could do.

“Concentrate.” It had been the third iteration of ‘focus’ Mason had used in the past hour. “Concentrate everything on it. Feel every little cell, every antigen those cells produce; feel them all.” We were getting fucking nowhere. “Don’t think that way, we’ll make progress.” At that I quickly looked up at him, cocking my head slightly to the side with a glare. He looked at me innocently, as if he didn’t deserve the harsh expression. “There has to be more to your ability than feeling it. Every single ability is useful, but yours is not useful as-is.”

‘Well thanks for the encouragement.’ With that, Mason rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. He went quiet for a moment, and then it was like a lightbulb turned on above his head.

“I’m sorry about the scar but…” I wanted to give him a look of confusion, but before I could he let go of my hand. A knife materialized in his hand quickly and he dragged it across my wrist, drawing blood.

“Hey!” I cried out, gritting my teeth as I went to pull my hand from his, but the knife disappeared and he got a hard grasp on my forearm. His right hand grabbed my hand tightly, pulling it downward, forcing the fresh wound open in order to keep my skin from closing by itself as dark liquid leaked out.

“Look at it.” Mason’s voice was calm, and I let out a huff, words not being enough to show my annoyance. “You can feel it, like it’s tangible, right? As if it’s not a liquid, like it’s a solid; like it’s something you can almost pick up, roll into a ball, and throw, yeah?” I pursed my lips, knowing he was right. That was exactly how it felt; tangible. I looked down at my slashed open wrist, where black, toxin-filled blood was still slowly draining out, dripping onto the concrete floor. I let out a breath, releasing my body from the human function of breathing, and stared at the liquid. It did feel like I could move it. Like if I stared at it hard enough, if I exhorted enough force, I could, in fact, roll it into a ball and toss it at the concrete wall. After a minute, Mason shook his head. “We’re going nowhere.”

‘It’s there, it’s tangible, I just…don’t know what to do with it.’ I looked up at him, and his lips twitched slightly as he narrowed his eyes in thought. Suddenly, he seemed to realize something awful, and his expression fell.

“Sometimes, when feeling threatened, an animal will lash out. The same kind of thing goes for us, that’s how I realized I could teleport.” Mason’s expression fell even further, the corners of his mouth pulling down as he glanced at my wrist, and then back at me. “I swear to you, I am only doing this because it may be the only way.” Again, his words left me confused. What the hell was he-

‘Hey baby sis, how’s it going?’

Everything left me. I couldn’t even speak; I just began shaking my head.

‘I’m good. How’re your studies going?’ My own voice hit me and his laughter followed. A lighthearted chuckle that made me grit my teeth now. I did not want to hear this.

“Stop it.” I managed, my voice a squeak and my words shaky. This phone call was supposed to stay locked away inside of me.

‘Amazing. My teachers love me; they laugh at all my jokes, good or bad.’ My body locked up, and I could feel my hands shaking.

“Stop it.” I begged again, and Mason just closed his eyes, turning his head from me, his face pained. He felt what I felt; the immediate pain of loss revisited. Of a wound long healed, now ripped open violently.

‘They’re not laughing at your jokes, they are laughing at you butchering their language.’ I wanted to smile as my brother’s hearty laugh echoed through my head again, but all I could do was squeeze my own eyes shut.

‘Well, maybe I can get better with that.’ No…no, no, no, not this. Not this.

‘What-what do you mean?’ My eyes snapped open, panicked now, fear running through me.

“Stop it!” The words came out so fast they were a cry that echoed around the room. Mason didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge me further as he focused, himself.

‘I think I’m gonna stay over here for a few more years, they’ve got-’

‘What? No-no, you can’t! You have to come home!’

‘It’s only a few more years, sis, I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.’

Suddenly, I felt my entire body tense up, and I tore my wrist free from Mason’s hand. I would not live this again. I felt something harden in my arm, and the silence in my head was maddening.

’Fine then, stay there with your new family. Don’t ever come home. I don’t want you to come home.’

“STOP!” Before I had to hear the gunshot I lunged forward at Mason without thinking and he fell back hard, his eyes snapping open, and my palm flat against his abdomen. My eyes were watery, tears falling faster and faster, but my head was finally silent, and my arms were shaking. Mason brought his eyes to mine, and then brought his hands up to my face as tears fell from my eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating the words, his hands wiping at the tears on my face. His eyes were watery too. He looked down at my hand, a grimace flickering across his face, and it was then that I realized something wasn’t right. I looked down and noticed something flat and hard along my wrist, going into Mason’s abdomen, cutting his shirt in the process. Then I realized I could feel it in my arm, like it was connected to me. Slowly, I pulled my hand from him, a large black shard of my blood withdrawing from his body, and Mason tensed up, a groan slipping past his lips as I pulled the shard of blood out of him.

‘Never do that to me again.’ I pursed my lips, and with hardly any thought, I felt the sickle of blood draw back into my arm, and with nothing holding the wound open, it closed quickly with a tugging feeling. I sighed then, rolling off Mason, lying back on the concrete, staring at the grey ceiling. For a moment –just for a moment- it felt almost nice. I’d gone so long without really feeling anything…to even feel that pain was kind of nice.

‘I promise you, I will never make you go through that again.’ No matter what just took place, his words were comforting. I closed my eyes; every vein in my body felt like it had been wound up around a reel.

‘Your promises are shit to me.’ I didn’t mean the hate behind the words, but my emotions were rampant. Mason quickly got on me then, with a leg on each side of my hips, his eyes staring down into mine.

‘You didn’t hear the gunshot. I would never make you hear that again. I know what I am doing, and you…you have to trust me when it comes to this.’ No matter how badly I wanted to disregard his thoughts towards me, I knew he was right. I knew nothing about being this…monster I was now. He knew everything and I had to listen to him. ‘Two thousand years have taught me that the most lethal weapons you have are the things that bring you pain. Become numb to them and nothing will be able to hurt you.’

I shook my head slightly, the tears gone and the feelings only just beginning to wane. ‘My entire life I’ve been numb. I locked that memory away because it made me feel. I never wanted to feel anything.’

Mason seemed to weigh my words for a moment before nodding. ‘Numbness can be good too. Numbness can shield you from the pain.’

‘No, that’s…that’s my problem. I’ve been numb my entire life. I have ignored emotions because I was afraid of what they’d do to me. I’ve lived my life as a ghost, forcing out sentiments in fear it’d make me feel human. I’ve ignored life, going through the days like a robot, everything I do is part of a strict schedule of my subconscious. I’m tired of not feeling.’ I locked my hands behind Mason’s neck, bringing his face down, letting his forehead rest against mine. ‘I need to face my pains. I need to feel again. I need to live.’ This realization felt like a weight off of me. I had masked and ignored so much for so long. I’d been so devoid of emotion and actual life. After finding out what Frank was doing by drowning me in feelings that weren’t mine... Mason was a breath of fresh air in a room full of pollutants.

My words brought a smile to Mason’s face, one that was light and loving. “I think your problem is that you’ve never had anyone make you feel anything.” I mirrored his smile at that, the heavy air lifting with his words.

‘Frank certainly made me- My joking words were cut short, Mason obviously not wanting to hear Frank’s name even through thoughts.

Mason cut me off, grinning wider, his tone spirited now. “Fuck him. He was going about it all wrong.” I wanted to scoff. I thought forcing emotions into someone was the only way to get them to love you anymore.

‘Then what’s the right way?’ The thought barely crossed my mind before Mason’s grin turned into a sly smirk, one that could’ve made any heart skip a beat.

“The way that makes your toes curl and your back arch as your lips whisper you want me.” His voice was drenched with confidence, his tone lowering as he leaned into my lips.

‘Then show me the right way. Make me feel again.’ Our lips parted, though his lingered almost against mine as Mason closed his eyes.

“Life is nothing if not an orchestra of emotions.” I smiled against his lips, recognizing the quote from Asunder– a quote I had read just days ago.

‘And one’s life should never be silent.’ Mine had been silent for far too long.
______

“So, is that your cigarette?” Mason’s voice was cheerful and carefree as I just smiled and turned the page. I had two chapters left of Asunder. Mason was lying across the bed with his head on my stomach, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed. The sheet and comforter both were twisted around the two of us. “I admit, I was a drug dealer for ten years, I’ve done drugs, I’ve gotten drunk and stayed that way for years, and I’ve partaken in other morally questionable things, but…never really got into smoking.”

‘Questionable things?’ I looked under my book at him, and instead of an answer, I only got a grin. Mason rolled over, moving back onto me as he crawled under my arms, planting a kiss on my lips. I was forced to let go of my book with one hand, though I managed to keep my page. Bringing my free hand up to Mason’s face, his eyes seemed…brighter, almost.

Before I could convey anything else, he began speaking, his voice almost thoughtful. “You know, I should take you to the Russky Bridge in Vladivostok, Russia. Longest cable-stayed bridge in the world, built for a fucking conference, runs across the Bosphorus; it’s gorgeous. You’d love it.”

I didn’t deny he was most probably right. ‘I do have quite the soft spot for beautiful architecture.’

As he opened his mouth to speak, something happened.

“Sorry to interrupt.” The voice was not his. Mason’s eyes widened, his mouth contorting in a silent yell, a look of horror overtaking his face, and before I could react he disappeared. He was just gone.

Quickly sitting up, I looked around, thinking perhaps he was joking around. As I looked around my room, I realized I was alone.

‘Mason?’ The thought was full of worry, but it went unanswered. ‘Mason?!’ I received no answer. “Mason?” I questioned out loud, my mind replaying the look of horror on his face before he disappeared. And that voice…that wasn’t his voice. Who’s voice was that? ‘Mason, this isn’t funny, come on, don’t play this shit now.’ Everything was dead silent. He was gone.

Without another delay I got out of bed, worry riddling me as I gathered my clothes from the floor and pulled them on hastily. I was only just pulling my shirt on just as I opened the door to my room. As I ran out I expected to see Mikey and Bob at least, but no one was around. I rushed across the room to Ronan’s dorm, hoping at least she was here. Something was wrong.

I beat my fist against the door quickly, not stopping until it swung open. “What’s wrong?” Ronan’s face was contorted in confusion, but she sounded even more confused than she looked.

“Mason’s gone?” The words came out like a question. Frankly, I wasn’t even sure if my concern was warranted. “There was a voice. He’s gone.”

Suddenly there was the sound of the main door opening, and before Ronan could speak, we both looked towards it, seeing Ray, Bob, Frank, and Gerard step in.

Ray looked considerably angrier than the last time I saw him. His words held up that observation as he was the first to speak. “Where the fuck is the rogue?”