Frankfort City, USA

There was no easy way to do it, Mason had decided as he stared out his bedroom window. Outside, it was nearly pitch black, the lone lamp-light that lit up a small space of their driveway was miniscule compared to the dark, open space. It had been raining on and off since Mason had returned home. Two days he's been home and he already felt like hell. A place that used to be so familiar was entirely strange now. His room had been left in the same way since his disappearance, though it felt empty, and not his place. Besides that, he'd found out his father had passed away almost five years ago. While his family was done grieving, he had only just begun. It was difficult to think what they have gone through, his pronounced death and then his father's. He could imagine the pain.

Tucking his hands in his pant pockets, he glanced over his shoulder at his bed, then the dresser. This wasn't home, it couldn't feel so strange. After a long, drawn-out sigh, Mason crossed the room and left, finding himself wandering towards his father's office. Like his room had, it still stood pretty much in the same way, nothing had been moved, or replaced. Nothing thrown out, except it was immaculately clean, as if it was cleaned each day. He moved towards the large mahogany desk sitting in the middle of the room, and sat down into the leather chair, the fabric creaking beneath his weight. His father's presence was long gone, and yet Mason could still feel him around here. He took the next half hour, idly glancing around the room, the contents on top of the table, then took the time to open each drawer and take in his father's presence little by little. Reminiscing, if you must.

For a while, nothing had jumped out at him except a folded letter attached to a small notebook with a rubberband. He wouldn't have touched anything if it wasn't addressed to him. 'Mason, my Son' was written on the folded letter in the cursive writing that was recognizable as his father's. He slowly removed the rubberband and unfolded the letter. Dated to just about five years ago, it had been written in haste. Mason's brows creased as he read the letter, taking in all of the information that his father provided him. It was a last minute demand, a request, but it sounded more like begging. David Redding confessed to all the misdeeds he had done, and was begging his son to 'make it right'. It also spoke of the notebook underneath the letter, it was a list of people who had done the same as David had, a list of people his father worked with.

"Mason?" His mother's voice startled him out of his thoughts. Marian was still an attractive woman, the grieving hadn't done any harm to her, it seemed. And there she stood in the doorway, a golden mane neatly piled in curls. She was dressed in a cocktail dress, possibly heading out, Mason figured. After he had looked up at her, setting the letter and notebook down, she stepped into the room, smiling warmly at her son. "Your friend is here," she began, then as she looked on, she smiled wider. "You know, your father would have loved to see you in that chair like that." It was a stab in the heart, for if it wasn't for his stubborn refusal for responsibility, maybe he wouldn't have let his father down so terribly. Mason stood, silent.

"I'm heading out, don't get into trouble," she patted his shoulder as he passed her.

"I won't," after a brief kiss was planted on her cheek, he headed downstairs to see who had decided to welcome him. Not many had in the past few days.

"Rusty," Mason grinned, jogging down the last set of winding stairs. "Good to see you, man," Mason shook his hand and drew him into a hug.

"I didn't believe them when they told me," Rusty chuckled, returning the hug. Rusty was definitely hesitant, however, Mason could feel that thickly. "So I'm here to take you out on the town-- like good ol' times, huh," he continued.

"Ahh, I don't know," Mason resisted, rubbing the back of his neck, with the thought to find an excuse as he stood in front of his friend. Needless to say, he'd done harm to their friendship before, so Mason did little to find an excuse. He wasn't too keen on going out anymore, but for old times sake, he'd humor his friend for the night.

Emma watched as the crystals on the spoon she was holding began melting, the lighter she was holding beneath it effectively reducing them to liquid. She knew meth was a dangerous drug, and sometimes, when her head was clear, she even tried to stop herself from taking it, but then, at other times, she just couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t deny herself the peace of mind she needed so desperately. Especially now that Mason was home. When Emma had first learned of Mason’s return from the dead, she had been ecstatic, promising herself that she would turn a new page; that she would get well now, because her brother was home. But he had been so distant, and she felt like he didn’t really want to be there, so again, Emma had turned to comfort herself. It was the only way she knew how to deal with upset anymore; drugs and alcohol. She was definitely going out tonight, that was for sure.

Once the crystalline drug had finally melted, Emma put down both lighter and spoon, unpacking a clean syringe. She didn’t like re-using them. It made her feel like a dirty addict, and she wasn’t. Then, drawing the liquid into the plastic container, Emma took a deep breath, looking at it. No one gave a shit about her, she knew that. Emma had been using meth for the past month, and other drugs before that. Alcohol even earlier, and her mother hadn’t even cared enough to notice. She never did. And Mason, who had been home for a few days, obviously still saw her as some good little kid, as if she was still the sister he had left. Emma didn’t know if she was most angry at him, hating him for leaving her to become this… this person… or happy that he was home and alive at last, even if he barely noticed her presence. She extended her right arm, tapping the most upper vein with two fingers before pushing the needle into it, her thumb pressing down the plunger with not a sliver of hesitation. No matter what, he clearly didn’t want to be the brother she needed him to be.

Finally, Emma put the syringe back on her night table along with the spoon and lighter, looking at the three while the meth coursed through her veins, relaxing her body, her mind slipping from confusing turmoil into a steady haze, and she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She sat there for a while, enjoying the sensation of feeling… nothing. She simply was, nothing more, nothing less, and she didn’t care. She had told herself a long time ago to stop caring, but part of her would always remain that naïve little 12 year-old her brother still thought her to be. As for her mother, now that Mason was home, attention was even less on her – as if that could have been possible. Then young girl opened her eyes slowly once she felt completely at peace, and then got up from the bed, smoothing out her outfit for the day before walking out the door. She didn’t yet know what she was going to do; probably just out to take a walk. She’d see where that took her.

She was about to slide on her sunglasses on her way down the stairs, when she spotted Mason with Rusty. She stilled, her hand on the handle of the stairs. Frankly she was a little surprised. She watched the pair silently, but when they spoke of going out, she snorted, finally sliding on her sunglasses. Her eyes would betray her current high, so she hid them; force of habit. She walked the rest of the way down the stairs, her heels clicking harmoniously. She did stop at the foot of said stairs however, unsure of what to do with the situation. In the end, she just spoke. What did she care anyway? The words rolled easily off her tongue, her voice ringing out in a playful tone, “don’t tell me you guys are heading out without me.” Wry smile curving her lips, she then added breezily, “oh, hey Rusty.”

Lily Fitzpatrick was not a woman who liked surprises, granted most of the surprises in her life had not been ones to rejoice with but rather caused her much grief; her grandparents deaths, finding her own mother in bed with her boyfriend and now Mason coming back from the dead after five years. It was insane. People don't just come back to life; she was happy for Mason's mother and sister to have their son and brother back, Lily, however couldn't...no, wouldn't find joy in his return. The day she heard of his 'death' was one that she would never forget, it was Russel who broke the news too her and in all honesty at first she felt guilt, she wished him dead after the pain he caused her, then came tears, then came anger, at herself mainly for crying over a man who broke her heart repeatedly and broke up her family. It was then she began to see Masons death as a blessing, to herself anyway and looking back now she supposes it was extremely selfish of her, especially seeing his families faces at his memorial, their heartache it cut her like a knife and for a long time she hated the fact that she liked that he was dead, merely so she wouldn't have to lay eyes on him and relive her pain every single day.

Now, however, the mixture of emotions filling her body confused the blonde attorney, she felt like a thirteen girl again with raging hormones and had been like that since Rusty told her a few days ago. So she did what anyone would do in her situation, she buried herself in work, trying to keep thoughts of her inevitable meeting with Mason at bay, although this was proving to be easier said than done.

That morning Lily woke before her alarm albeit she had hardly slept, her mind seemed to ignore her plea too stop over thinking things. Sitting up she swung her legs over the side of her large bed, the cold of her apartment instantly hitting her bare arms. With a shiver the blonde walked across her wooden floor towards the bathroom, immediately turning the shower on; once stripped of her pyjamas, Lily stepped into the hot shower, relief, as the warm water washed over her. After washing her hair and everything else you do in the shower, Lily stepped out, wrapping the small white towel around her body. She proceeded to get ready for work; hair, make up, clothes, breakfast and she was ready to go, slipping on her coat, grabbing her bag and walked out her door.

It wasn't a long walk from her apartment to her office and it took her past her favourite coffee shop, which she was just about to walk through the door through, Afterall Lily couldn't start the day without her first cup of coffee.

Nate woke up as the bile rose in his throat, like a bullet the nineteen year old shot from his bed, his feet pounding against the wooden floor as he ran towards the bathroom; opening the toilet lid, the contents of his brothers liquor cabinet spilt from his guts 'urgh' he groaned, mustering the energy to reach up and flush the toilet 'fucking hangovers' grumbled the teen as he pushed himself up off the floor, stumbling over to the basin. His head was spinning, still, after his possible deadly cocktail of drugs and hard liquor last night; the highs were awesome, the lows, well, they sucked. Splashing cold water on his face Nate felt a little relief, maybe getting high would ease his suffering.

Once refreshed, Nate left the bathroom, slumping back down on his bed, reaching for the already rolled joint resting on his bedside table, lighting it he brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply, repeating the ritual a couple of times until he began to feel relief. He had to laugh at himself, openly smoking a joint in his room, without even trying to conceal the evidence, anyone of his family members could walk in on him at this present moment and would be too far up their own ass to even notice let alone care, so why should he? Why should he try and hide it? Hunger filled his senses with the rumbling of his stomach, as he stumped out the roll up in the ash tray, when was the last time he ate? He doesn't remember eating last night, fuck, he doesn't remember any of last night! Dragging his weight from his bed, Nate trudged down the stairs and towards the kitchen "Rusty" he called out groggily, seeing if his brother was home, although he suspected he wasn't. His suspicions were confirmed by silence, 'probably out with Mason or Lily' he surmised opening the fridge.

Brown eyes scanning the shelves he spotted left over pizza "perfect" he smiled grabbing the slices, quickly heating them up before returning to his room. Turning on the tv he flicked through the channels before settling on family guy, he remained like that until an idea popped into his head. Grabbing his phone, the brunette searched for Emma's name in his contact list, it wasn't hard to find, 'Want to skip school today and do something fun?' he quickly punched in before sending.

Whilst waiting for a reply, Nate took the opportunity to get ready, changing into dark jeans, converse and a tee. Grabbing his keys, wallet, phone and of course a joint, he left the apartment, heading straight to the buildings garage and towards his baby an iron 883 Harley Davidson. The bike roared to life and Nate tore out of the garage, not heading in any direction just waiting until Emma text him back.