As a result, the mystery surrounding the necklace remained shrouded in mystery, and everyone was forced to accept the phenomenon. Many believed that as Mason grew older, the necklace would eventually tighten and choke him.
However, to their utter dismay, the opposite occurred. As Mason grew, the necklace adapted to his increasing size, expanding to accommodate his growing neck.
When Mason grew older, the only nanny who had shown him kindness and love warned him repeatedly about the importance of keeping the necklace safe. She told him that it was his only inheritance, his protector, and the only clue that could lead him to his parents.
After the nanny's passing, life in the orphanage became unbearable for Mason. His curiosity about the necklace often got the better of him, and he would try to remove it. However, the necklace seemed to have a life of its own, refusing to budge whenever he attempted to take it off.
Whenever Mason touched the pendant on the necklace to inspect it, the chain would move, but the moment he formed the intention to remove it, the necklace would become immovable, as though it could read his mind.
This strange phenomenon only added to the mystery surrounding the necklace, leaving Mason with more questions than answers.
Presently, although Mason was aware that his bullies would be unable to remove the necklace from him, he couldn't shake off the fear of any possibility. The thought of losing the necklace was unbearable, as it would vanish any chance he had of finding his parents.
The necklace had become an integral part of his identity, a tangible connection to his mysterious past. And of course, he was determined to protect it at all costs.
As he attempted to create some distance between himself and Ben's group, a multitude of thoughts assailed him, leaving him reeling from the implications of disobeying them.
Noticing Mason's attempt to slip away, Mark lunged forward, tackling him to the ground with a swift and brutal motion. As Mark tried to grab the necklace, Mason intercepted, warding off his reach with a desperate determination.
The other three bullies joined in, kicking and punching the twelve-year-old boy mercilessly.
"Let go of it, bastard!" Ben snarled.
The beating continued until Mason's strength finally gave out, and he released his grip on the necklace. But as Ben's fingers made contact with the pendant, a sudden, intense jolt of electricity seemed to strike him, sending him flying several meters away.
Ben landed hard on the ground, clutching his broken right wrist with his left hand as he writhed in agony. His cohorts rushed to his side, attempting to tend to his injuries.
"What the hell just happened!?" Mark exclaimed in bewilderment.
Ben, however, continued to scream, unable to articulate the magnitude of the excruciating pain that was ravaging his body.
"What the hell did you do to him!?" Mark groaned, turning around to face Mason. But to his surprise, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he caught a glimpse of him several meters down the alleyway, running for his life with a desperate urgency.
"He's running away! Get him!"
The remaining two members of Ben's cohorts chased after Mason with relentless ferocity.
"Hey! Poor boy, stop right there!" Ric, one of the pursuers, shouted at the top of his lungs.
Mason glanced over his shoulder, his heart racing with fear as he saw his pursuers rapidly closing the distance between them. He knew that if he could just escape the deserted alleyway and lose himself in the crowd, he would be safe, at least for today.
"Stop right now! You're dead if I catch you!" Ric's threatening voice echoed through the alleyway once again.
Mason ran with all his remaining strength; he knew there was no way he could outrun the grown-ups chasing him. He was too tired as it is, and he'd received a tiring beating earlier as a bonus.
As fate may have it, luck was on Mason's side. Just as it seemed that his pursuers were about to catch up with him, he burst out of the alleyway and into the crowded streets, weaving in and out of the throngs of people.
He turned back to see his pursuers, a look of relief washing over him as he realized he had managed to evade them. However, Mason's relief was short-lived. Without warning, something hit him with a loud bang, sending him crashing to the ground.
A loud thud filled the air, and Mason felt a searing pain wash over him, as if a thousand wild horses had hit him. Ben's cohorts, who had been hot on his heels just moments before, trembled with fear as they beheld the sight before them. They quickly pivoted and took to their heels, disappearing back into the alleyways.
Mason lay motionless on the ground, his senses beginning to reel. He struggled to maintain consciousness, but it was a losing battle. The sounds around him grew muffled and distant, and his vision began to blur.
The last thing he saw was a blur of a bearded man rushing to his side, his face etched with concern. Then, Mason's hand thudded lightly on the ground, and everything went dark.
*****
Mason's eyes fluttered open, and he jolted awake, his vision slowly adjusting to the warm lighting of the room. As he looked around, he noticed the walls adorned with colorful drawings and paintings by a child, while several toys lay scattered on a nearby shelf. The room was also filled with an impressive collection of books, neatly arranged on a bookcase.
A gentle voice broke the silence, "Are you okay?"
Mason turned his head to the left, and his gaze met the concerned eyes of a girl about his age. She was staring curiously at him.
"Who... are you?" Mason stammered, his voice almost a whisper. He struggled to sit up, but every effort was a painful attempt, as though his body was protesting the movement.
The girl's face lit up with excitement as she shouted toward the door, "Daddy! Daddy!! He's awake!"
In less than a minute, the door creaked open, and a bearded middle-aged man entered the room. His neatly trimmed beard and curly brown hair, packed to the back, gave him a dignified appearance. Mason's eyes widened as he recognized the man as the one who had rushed to his side during the accident.
The man's voice interrupted Mason's thoughts. "You're such a difficult boy to be given medical treatment." He smiled wryly, "Even the doctors couldn't treat you because they're scared of laying their hands on you. What did you have on your body that scared them?" His eyes narrowed at Mason, as if searching for answers.
As his question went with no answer, he stepped closer to Mason, his eyes closely inspecting him. "How are you feeling now?" he inquired gently.
Mason nodded slowly, trying to muster a sense of normalcy despite the throbbing pain that still lingered throughout his body.
"I'm fine now," he responded.
The truth was that Mason was no stranger to pain. It had become a constant companion in his daily life, a reminder of the hardships and struggles he had faced.
However, the pain he was experiencing now was different, more intense than anything he had felt before. But Mason knew better than anyone that complaining would be futile. He had been lucky to be hit by a decent man's car, someone who had stopped to help him instead of fleeing the scene.
Mason felt a pang of gratitude towards the man and his family, who had taken him in and cared for him. He didn't want to burden them further, so he tried to downplay his injuries.
"I have to leave now, thank you for taking care of me, and I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," he said, attempting to step down from the bed. But he couldn't move his legs.
With a growing sense of alarm, Mason threw off the blanket covering his body and beheld his legs encased in plaster casts.
"What happened to my legs!?" he muttered in terror, his eyes wide with shock.
"You won't be able to walk with those legs for one or two weeks," the man said, folding his arms across his chest. "What's your name?"
Mason's response was delayed, as he struggled to process what he was seeing. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed at his legs with intensity.
"I'm Mason Robinson," he finally managed to stammer out a reply.
The young girl's eyes lit up with excitement as she exclaimed, "He's also a Robinson like us, Dad!" She darted a glance at her father before returning her gaze to the boy on her bed.
"Where are your parents, Mason?" the girl's father, Mr. Robinson, inquired.
Mason's eyes dropped, and he shook his head slowly.
"I don't have parents," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, "I lived at the orphanage home." He wiped away his tears, his gaze drifting to Mr. Robinson. "How long have I been here?"
Mr. Robinson glanced at the wall clock above.
"This is 5:23 p.m. You've been here for more than twenty-four hours already. I brought you here yesterday afternoon when the doctors were having a difficult time taking care of you," he explained. "My wife treated you, that's why you're doing well, as you can see."
Mason's eyes widened in terror. "She… she touched me?"
Mr. Robinson's expression was puzzling. "Of course, how else would she have treated your injuries without touching you?" he replied.
"Ahh!"