“All the women…you’re free to go,” he announced.
That brought the hostage count down to five men. I couldn’t believe this was happening. There was nothing I could do or say to stop him. I still wasn’t afraid that he’d hurt me. I was more afraid that he’d hurt himself.
One of the cops appeared at the door. He showed his hands so Mason knew he meant no harm.
“Now, Mason, what is it you want? If you can help us help these people we might be able to help you out.” He kept his eyes trained on Mason.
I looked past him to the guns, all of them fixed on us. I knew if I made one wrong move, I could be shot.
“My name is Mason Vaughn. I’m not sure if you’re aware of who I am, but I’m sure if you look it up you’ll see I am wanted in just about every state,” Mason confessed.
I closed my eyes, devastated at his confession.
“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do remember you. I remember when you were little. I know your grandparents. We were just talking about you last week at church,” the officer insisted.
Mason’s breathing sped up, he squeezed me tighter. This upset him. I didn’t have to look at him to know this.
“Just look it up!” he yelled at the officer. He wasn’t in the mood for heartwarming stories about his family.
“My name is Mark,” the officer said. He used his walkie-talkie to share the information Mason had given him. He wanted someone else to look up the information so he could keep his eye on Mason.
“Well, Mark, I want you to know this is Kendall,” he explained, gripping my shoulder as he introduced me to the law.
I cringed, digging my nails into his arm.
Mark nodded, his eyes taking only a second to glimpse into mine before returning his focus on Mason.
“I remember both of you,” Mark said.
“None of that matters,” Mason said. “Kendall is a hostage, right?”
Mark knew he just needed to listen to what Mason had to say.
“She doesn’t want to be here. She has nothing to do with any of this. She’s been with me for quite some time now—always against her will,” Mason revealed. It was rehearsed, probably something he’d planned for days.
“Okay. That makes perfect sense to me, Mason. What can I do to help?” Mark asked him.
Mason pressed his face against my cheek and pulled me even tighter to him. He was trying to hug me. His heart was pounding like a drum against my back.
“There is nothing you can do for me. I just want you to help her,” Mason told Mark.
“To do that, Mason, you would have to let Kendall go. Does that sound like something you’re willing to do?” Mark caught my attention for a brief second. I wasn’t sure if he was confused by my calm behavior.
Mason’s body began to shake. He was crying, I was sure of it. And I wanted to hug him so badly. I wanted to turn around and tell him we were going to be okay. That we could get through this. We always got through everything.
“I’m willing to do that. I’ve never been more willing to do anything in my entire life,” he said. He squeezed me tightly.
I squeezed his arm, entrusting the feel of his skin against mine to my memory.
I just wanted to remember what he felt like if it was years before we saw each other again. I didn’t know what was to come.
“Mason, I love you,” I said over and over again. He slowly let me go, the warmth and feel of him disappeared and now I stood there alone. I turned around and looked into his eyes. His eyes glistened with tears that streamed down his handsome face.
He smiled at me, taking in short, shaky breaths, trying to keep himself in check as he fell apart right in front of me.
I grabbed ahold of his face and kissed him. I didn’t care what anyone thought.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this. And I hate you for it.” I wiped at his tears, pressing my forehead against his.
He cupped the back of my head, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m not leaving you. I will be right outside. Okay?” I clutched the back of his neck, keeping him close. I didn’t want to let him go. I was afraid to let him go.
“I know why I am doing this.” He kissed my forehead, stroking my hair. I started to cry. “Because you deserve it, because I love you. Because I’d never know what to do without you, and I’d rather never find out.” He kissed me again.
I touched his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. He was frightened, deep down I could see the fear. No matter how brave he wanted to look, I knew he was afraid.
“Kendall, please go back to Joy-Ann. Don’t hang around,” he told me.
I shook my head no.
“Remember what I said, Mason?” I knew he did. We talked about it every time we saw each other, every new beginning, every new adventure throughout the years. “We can get through anything. And I’ll never let you down. I’m not going to break that promise. It’s me and you…like always.”
Mason shook his head, pulling away from me. He pushed me toward the door, no longer caught up in the emotions.
“Kendall, get out of here!” he yelled at me.
I winced at his angry tone, but walked through the door.
“I’m not leaving,” I shouted back.
An officer grabbed me as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk and took me behind a car.
“I’m not leaving,” I told him.
“Just stay where you are then,” the officer grumbled, going back to the job at hand.
“He’s not a bad guy,” I told him.
But it only fell on deaf ears.
I watched Mason as he stood completely still, listening to Mark. He was beyond distraught—it was written all over his face. I tried to remain calm as I watched them try to convince him to give up.
Nothing else mattered as I watched Mason. I pleaded to the heavens that Mason made it out of that bank and into the cop car. I never wanted something so bad in my life. I could have never imagined that the best thing to happen to Mason would be for him to be arrested. But, right now, I believed it was.
We soon became the talk of the town. People from all over Gusby gathered in front of every store and house as far as the eye could see to see.
I didn’t want Mason to be that guy—another Leon of Gusby. I didn’t want him to be classified as some low life—the guy who’d be talked about for years to come. He was so much more than any of them would ever know.
He was everything to me. He was my heart.
Mark moved closer to the doors and everything fell quiet. The atmosphere grew tense as the officers watched Mark try a new approach.
“I think this is one nut about to crack,” one young cop said to his buddy.
The other one chuckled. “This beats waiting around for the regular drunk calls over at The Shed.”
I held my breath, watching Mason hold onto his gun for dear life. Mark inched closer and closer to Mason. He was still except for his eyes darting around nervously as Mark got closer to him. I looked at his arm—the one that always held me at night while I slept.
“Come on, buddy, don’t do anything stupid,” the officer next to me said, steadying his aim.
“Or maybe he should. This is the most action I’ve seen my whole career,” the other guy said. He didn’t care that I was only feet away.
Please, Mason, don’t move, I begged.
I held my breath. I felt so numb and so out of control.
“Kendall,” Mom yelled from somewhere behind me in the crowd.
I spun on my heels in slow motion as if in a dream. My hair sailed along in the air, whipping against my face with the sudden turn.
I found her in the crowd. She was jumping up and down to see over the people gathered there.
The sound of gunshots filled the air. Everyone dropped to the ground in an instant. My own body slammed against the asphalt. All I could see was black as the side of my face hugged the pavement.
I screamed as more shots went off above my head. I plugged my ears with my fingers to block out the sound.
I wasn’t sure how long I was on the ground. I just knew my mom was next to me yelling at the police, telling them I was her daughter. She frantically patted my body, checking for any gunshot wounds.
“I’m okay. Where’s Mason?” I asked, grabbing her by the arm. She pulled me to my feet. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening around me. I wondered why the police were no longer there standing behind their car doors.
Mom pulled me toward the street.
I fought back, digging in my heels to stop her from making me leave.
“Kendall, honey, he’s been shot. Let’s go back to the house. We can call the hospital to check on him,” she pleaded with me. Somehow my feet started moving.
I heard the words. That Mason had been shot, but it didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand.
Why would anyone want to shoot Mason?
“I need to see him,” I screamed, suddenly frantic and afraid her words were real. I got free from her grip and ran back to the bank. I passed the ambulance and paramedics as they ran toward the bank with medical equipment.
I got past the cops and made it to the window before anyone could stop me.
I slammed into the glass, my palms pressed against it as I peered in.
“Those are his feet,” I cried out. I couldn’t see his face. But I knew those were his shoes.
One of the paramedics shifted just enough that I could see his face.
I screamed, banging on the glass.
I shouted Mason’s name, begging him to get up. I was inside before I could be stopped. I needed to see him.
“Mason!” I dropped to my knees beside him. He was bloody and still.
“Is he okay?” I asked the paramedic. Her expression was grim.
“Kendall, we have to go,” my mom said. She had been allowed to go inside to get me. “We can go to the hospital and wait there. They want you to talk to an officer; he will meet us at the hospital.”
My mom steered me through the crowd of bystanders. I didn’t fight—I had no fight left in me—and I got into her car. I just wanted to know what was happening to Mason and that he was going to be okay.