The entire table was staring at Mason, who was steadily growing paler. I forced my mouthful of spaghetti down and opened my mouth to speak.
"W-what?"
Mason turned towards me and I swear he looked like he just saw a ghost. His eyes met mine for a split second before he threw his napkin on the table and ran upstairs. No one followed him and instead decided to stare at me.
"You don't like sauce?" His mother asked, sounding hurt. Seriously? That just happened and all the woman cared about was food? I shook my head slightly before removing the napkin from my lap and racing after Mason. I had no idea where his room was and considering how large this house was, there probably wasn't a good chance of me finding it.
I bolted around the corner and tripped over something, sending my clumsy self flying through the air. I landed in a heap about a foot and a half from where I had caught my foot on whatever. I let out a yelp and rubbed my ankle before turning around to see what had caused this.
I let out a gasp. 
Mason sat in a clump on the floor, his knees brought up to his chest. He was leaning against the wall and looking off into space. I don't think he even realized that I had tripped over him. In the two minutes since he left, it appeared that he had run his fingers through his hair multiple times, making it terribly messy. He turned from his perfect self to a complete reck before I even knew what had happened.
"Are... are you okay?" I asked, picking myself up off the ground and sitting next to him. He wouldn't look at me.
"I... I don't know where my room is. I don't even remember living here. I don't know who you are besides your first name. How did I know you don't like sauce?" He asked. 
"I don't know." Mason turned towards me and I honesty hardly recognized him. He seemed like a completely different person, so... weak.
"It just came."
"Yeah but you remembered. That's good."
"Yeah but I'm not supposed to like you." He said, looking away from me once again.
"Why not?"
"Because-"
"Kirsten." I interrupted, sighing. He remembered the fact that I didn't like pasta, so I guess I would just have to hang onto the hope that he might one day remember me.
 "When you're tired to being brainwashed, you have my phone number."
I stood up and ran down stairs, out the door, and eventually to the sidewalk where I began the long walk home.


 Comment for a Reminder!
A/N: New Chapterrrrrrrr.