Sitting next to Ellen, Mason could feel the heavy silence of the hospital room all around him. His hand wrapped around hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. It had been a whole week since she got admitted, and still, she still hadn’t shown any signs of waking up. The soft beeping of the monitors was the only sound in the room, a small reassurance that she was still with him, alive.
Mason’s fingers gently traced over Ellen’s knuckles, his eyes watched her peaceful face, tracing its outline with his eyes. The memories of that terrible night rushing back, memories he tried desperately to keep out of his mind but couldn’t.
He could still see her, lying there on the floor, her pale skin cold and stained with her own blood. He had walked into that scene feeling a mix of fear and anger. Looking at her like that was like having his heart torn out of his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the all-too-familiar wave of guilt and anger crashing over him.
Hans... the name made him feel sick with hatred. The thought of that man—the monster who had caused so much suffering, not only to Ellen but to Mason as well—it tormented him like a constant pain. And then, remembering how Hans had escaped justice by taking his own life before Mason could make him pay, made his blood boil all over again. He wanted nothing more than to make Hans suffer, to have him feel even a bit of the pain Ellen had gone through.
Mason’s face twisted with anger, and his jaw tightened. As his gaze drifted back to Ellen, his face softened. Gently, he leaned closer, resting his cheek against her hand, closing his eyes as if her touch could somehow give him strength. The memory of how Hans ended things haunted him, leaving him feeling empty and bitter about their unfinished business.
The door creaked open, breaking the silence, and Mason opened his eyes, the light touch of Ellen’s hand still pressed to his cheek. Gerald stepped into the room, carrying a small plastic bag, his presence both familiar and comforting in a way Mason wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge.
"I brought you some food," Gerald announced, setting the bag down on the table next to the bed. His voice was soft, but Mason could tell he wasn’t here for small talk.
Mason glanced at the bag, but his face remained impassive. "I’m not hungry," he replied coldly, turning his gaze back to Ellen, not wanting to break the silence as he kept watch over her.
Gerald’s lips tightened into a thin line, and he crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly as he studied Mason. "When was the last time you ate, huh?" Gerald asked, a little stern but still kind.
Silence filled the room, the only answer coming from the beeping of Ellen’s heart monitor. Mason didn’t answer, his jaw remaining firmly set, his eyes fixed on Ellen as if breaking his gaze would somehow betray her.
Gerald sighed, relaxed his arms and stepping closer to Mason. "You probably don’t even remember, do you?" he continued, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "Look, Mason, Ellen wouldn’t want to see you like this. If she were awake, she’d tell you to take care of yourself. You need to eat, so you’ll have the strength to be here for her when she wakes up."
Mason’s fingers clenched around Ellen’s hand, but he didn’t budge, keeping his eyes down. The room felt even more suffocating, his silent grief making it hard to breathe.
Seeing his friend so broken, Gerald moved closer, placing a hand on Mason’s shoulder in a gesture of silent support. Mason’s shoulders slumped slightly under Gerald’s hand, but he didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he muttered, his voice low and thick with bitterness, "Hans succeeded. That bastard... he wanted me to live alone, forever. And he got what he wanted."
Gerald’s hand stiffened on Mason’s shoulder before he gently let it fall back to his side. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his voice calm and steady. "Don’t let what that psychopath said get into your head, Mason. He was twisted. Crazy. None of this is on you."
He narrowed his eyes, a deep sadness filling them as he looked down at Ellen’s hand in his. "If only I’d known about him sooner. If I’d done something... anything... Ellen wouldn’t be lying here now." His voice was almost a whisper, but the hurt in what he said was clear. "Or maybe... I should never have married her in the first place. That would’ve been better, wouldn’t it?"
Gerald shook his head, stepping closer again, his brows drawn together in frustration. "No, Mason. You can’t blame yourself for this. Hans was the one who was wrong, not you. You loved Ellen. That’s not a crime." He took a moment, his voice getting gentler as he went on, "Do you really think Ellen would want you blaming yourself for all this? For something that was out of your control?"
For a moment, they were quiet again, heavy with all the fears and regrets they weren’t saying. Mason’s eyes were fixed on Ellen’s face, his expression pained and conflicted. He didn’t answer Gerald’s question, but his body language spoke volumes — the way his shoulders slumped, the way his grip on her hand tightened, as if he feared she’d slip away if he let go.
"Gerald..." Mason’s called softly, as if he were afraid to hear his own words. His best friend looked at him, brows raised in quiet concern. "What... what am I supposed to do if she’s gone?" The question sat there, filled with a raw vulnerability that Mason rarely allowed anyone to see. He swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill as he stared at Ellen, the woman who had become his entire world.
"How am I supposed to go on with my life without her?"