Shelly

---

Through the years, I had learned to have a grudging respect for Mason. I might have hated his guts—and I seriously did—but I respected him as a person. My sister loved him, and all her alters did too. They didn’t love him just because of his broad shoulders or his quirky grin. It wasn’t because of his advanced degrees or his compassion. It was just because he was their Mason. All theirs.

And more important, they were his. He accepted them just as they were. He never, not even once, looked at Lynn like she was broken. He never tried to push the alters away. He never tried to change her. She’d been changed enough.

Our father had made her into what she was today.

That’s why I killed our father.

I made it go away. I always did. Anything that could hurt Lynn…I made it go away.

I probably should have made Mason go away too, but then I realized that the son of a bitch was just as fucking crazy as me. And, like me, he’d do anything to keep Lynn safe. He’d even get himself killed by one of the alters.

I was afraid that’s what he’d just done.

When I saw Ash pick up the knife, I knew immediately what he’d done. He’d used the song. The song was the one thing that could make Ash go crazy. She was happy-go-lucky all the rest of the time. She was kind and sweet and kick-ass awesome. But let her hear that song, and she went berserk. Mason knew it. And he used it.

I saw it happening, almost like a slow-motion movie playing in my head. One moment, he had his hand on her belly, and Ash knew that he knew. Yet Lynn didn’t know that he knew, so knowing wasn’t as important in that moment as what he did next.

At a very young age, Ash had been sitting in the closet with Lynn, sharing a space inside her head, when our father sang that song. Then he’d grabbed Lynn by the hair and dragged her from the dark space. In her mind, Lynn closed Ash off from harm. Lynn hadn’t let Ash see what he’d done to her. He’d beaten Lynn to within an inch of her life. Then he’d left her bleeding on the floor, permanently scarred in more ways than one.

Ash heard the song, grabbed the knife, and brought it down on Mason’s shoulder. The look of surprise on his face almost undid me. He hadn’t seen it coming. But he saw the next one. He lifted his arms to block her blow, and the knife slid along his flesh, cutting it wide open.

The man was a fucking lunatic, because right before I caught Ash and pushed her back, covering her body with mine, I saw him smile and I read the words, “Thank God…finally…” on his lips. He was fucking nuts. Certifiable. People always said I needed to be in the nut house. But no… Mason had me beat.

I held Ash down on the floor as Mason sank to his knees, and then he dropped onto all fours. He couldn’t hold up the weight of his body. A river of dark red blood seeped onto the tile. It started as a big red blob, but then it trickled into the grout lines and spread like a map made of blood.

Deep inside me, I felt the moment that Ash left and Lynn came back. Lynn went completely still beneath me, and the knife clattered to the floor next to my head as she let it go. Her eyes met mine. Confusion marred the blue depths.

“What…” Her brow furrowed, but she wasn’t fighting any more so I eased my grip on her.

“You’re back,” I said, relief settling deep inside me.

She looked over my shoulder and saw Mason. She screamed his name, shoved me off her, and scrambled to his side. “Mason!” she cried.

The front door flew open and a man stood there. He had a phone to his ear. He was the private detective that Mason had hired. I’d realized he was following me a few days ago. I could have slipped past him. I could have stayed hidden, but it was time for Lynn to come back. It was time for Mason to put the gears in motion. There was a baby to take care of, and Lynn needed to do it.

The PI grabbed towels from the counter and bent down, pressing them to Mason’s wounds. Lynn held the cut on his wrist in her bare hands, squeezing tightly. Ash must have hit an artery, because he was bleeding like a stuck pig.

“Stay with me, Mason,” Lynn said.

His eyes didn’t even flutter. He was still, cold, his lips tinged with blue.

Paramedics and the police arrived minutes later. It felt like hours, but I know it was only minutes. The police showed up with guns drawn, pointed at me and Lynn.

“Back against the wall,” an officer said. “Both of you.”

I pried Lynn’s hands from Mason’s body and pulled her back with me, half in my lap, half stretched out across the floor as she struggled to get back to him.

“Stop it,” I said close to her ear. “Let them fix him.”

The paramedics began CPR and Lynn sat next to me, our backs against the wall. She didn’t leave, though. I’d almost expected for Jamie or Charlie to appear, but they didn’t. Lynn stayed, blinking her blue eyes, pleading with Mason to hang on.

“Stay, Mason,” she whispered. “I need you to stay.”

They lifted Mason onto a gurney, his hands falling limp by his sides. He wasn’t bleeding anymore. I didn’t think there could be any blood left in his body.

The police officer still had his gun pointed toward me and Lynn in warning as they pushed Mason from the room. I could tell Lynn wanted to go with him, but they wouldn’t let her. She just huddled against the wall, tears streaming down her face.

“One of you had better start talking,” the officer said. Others started to arrive, more police, more EMTs. More and more people showed up.

The PI ran his hands through his hair over and over, his forehead tinged with Mason’s blood. The front of his t-shirt, stretched across his broad shoulders, was marred by what might be Mason’s last few drops of life. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He looked so normal.

He told them what had been happening, his words quiet. Every now and then, he looked over at us, his eyes avoiding ours.

The officer finally came toward us. “So, which one of you is responsible for this?” he asked.

I didn’t even have to think about it. I did what I always did. I took care of Lynn.

I raised my hand and said, “I did it.”