Beast Within

11| Calling In...

Lawrence's P.O.V.

You'd lose faith in humanity too if you had my life.

My mother gave up on me early, deciding that she wanted to return to being a free woman. She knew that she had become a mom too soon - realizing only when it was too late that she didn't even know how to take care of herself. She wasn't done growing up either. She had me at nineteen, dropping out of college after she couldn't hide it anymore.

She named me Lawrence because that was the name of the family dog they  euthanized when she was a kid.

In my twenty-eight years on this planet, I've dodged more bullets than cake frosting flying at my face at a birthday party. One of those bullets being my mother. Sure, I could sound melodramatic to some – depressing even to a lot of people, but I was never called a liar. When I was barely five years old, my mother declared she wanted me to be left in the care of her brother.

I replayed that day constantly, wondering at what point she knew she didn't want me anymore. For years, I searched for answers that weren't there.

Her expression was hallow, blinking only at the smoke that slightly stung her eyes. People said we looked alike - and maybe we did, but I never liked to acknowledge it. We had similar eye shapes, curly hair, and the same mole right below our left eye. She'd call us twins for sharing that.

Water pooled at the corner of one tear duct, swatting at the moisture so that it didn't ruin her mascara. It was eight in the morning. She still had on the makeup she put on from the night before. If you accused her of it, she'd dismiss it as a falsehood. But you could tell by the cracks developing. Folds of dried-up foundation was making a home in the creases of her crow's feet.

"Your uncle is going to be taking care of you for a little." She didn't mind lying to a kid.

A little ended up becoming forever.

I didn't know that at this time, though, so I only nodded when she told me. "Where does he live?" I asked.

"He lives in the city."

I stopped what I was doing, which was eating. "Have I met him been?"

"No, not yet. You're meeting him today."

"What's his name?"

She hesitated before speaking.

That man, the one who raised the three of us, was always called by different names. I got picked up from a playground one day, and someone from outside the building had shouted to him. He responded to the name, despite it being far from the sound of "Zackeria." They approached him, calling him the other name again – but I couldn't recall it now. Only because it was constantly changing. His identity.  

We picked up a lot of skills from him, learning to blind in, changing fast, and melt away into the crowd as though we were never there to begin with. He taught us well.

He came to mind tonight.

When Dario and Shadow kicked me out, right along with Jamila, I thought about my adoptive father – and technically, Kaia's real one.

"We have to find Zackeria," I told Jamila at once, taking her hand. "He's the only one who could help us right now."

"Are you out of your mind?" She slapped at my fingers, rushing ahead of me so that we weren't no longer walking side by side. It was the dead of night, and perhaps two hours before the first burst of light from the morning sun. "Kaia doesn't want to be saved. If it were one of us, then fine, get the fucking fire station involved. We'd need the help. But Kaia?"

"Kaia is not immortal."

"She pretty damn close."

Clenching my fist to my side, I shouted.      

"You can't honestly be that selfish. She went through all that work to get your lazy ass out of there – but you won't even consider the idea of rescuing her?"

"I would, if I had a backup team."

"I am your backup."

She shook her head instantly. "You need to back out of that plan. That's a suicide mission. I wanna come up with a plan where we both come out of it alive."

"And that's why I suggested Z—"

"Stop saying his name," she said before I could fully get the words out. My mouth was immediately hit with a cold finger, pressing hard to shut me up. "You say it enough, and he'll show up."

She wasn't entirely lying there; however, it wasn't the complete truth either. There was an incantation you had to say before you began repeating his name. At an impressionable and dumb age, we had a strange obsession with Bloody Mary. Uncle Zackeria found amusement in our adolescent delight and wanted to make it possible for us to never lose track of where he was if we were to ever need him.

   Closing both eyes, I stopped walking.

   "I'm doing it – whether you like it or not."

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