Years ago tragedy struck the Calloway's causing the family to fall apart. Lucariah Augustine St. Francis Calloway was left in the ruins of it all with a mother who couldn't bother and a father who disappeared one night with his older brothers. For...
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I never did get my answer.
Caspian never gave reason for why he did what he did; he just claimed it was necessary. And if my mother didn't show when she did, the jail cell would have become a crime scene.
I was three seconds away from crushing Cinnami's windpipe and with that; Caspian's will to live. I was ready to lock myself up for life for a single answer to my crushing question.
Was it really necessary? Or did Caspian have an ulterior motive? What tricks were up his sleeve?
I can't rule a kingdom if my people want to stab me in the back. I can't run a kingdom while I'm away from the throne.
My throat bobbed with the suffocating atmosphere I'd brought into the car, my gaze never leaving the window as the world rolled on by.
My mother looked well, alive, content. I suppose I was right when I said she'd be better off without me.
Didn't hurt any less though.
"I'm thinking of getting some coffee," my mother sighed wistfully, "want some?"
I sighed against the cool glass, "I don't drink coffee, ma."
"Juice?"
"Ma-"
"Luca," she cut off, "look, I'm here. I'm sober. Let me have a chance to talk to you like we used to. Okay?"
It's too late for that. But I just breath out what she wants to hear. It's too late for a lot of things and I'm learning to let it slide.
We remained in silence until she pulled into a coffee shop. I hopped out the car, cuffing my arms with my crutches.
Apparently they searched our vehicle and found them on the floor. Giving it to my mother when she collected me. They gave her my knives too; she returned the one with the resin handle, but the rest were lost to me.
She walked me to a corner booth and rushed away to order.
My paranoia got the best of me and I couldn't help but let my eyes fly wildly around the shop; in search of a shaggy head of blue hair.
"Here you are," my mother put a clear cup in front of me, the orange liquid sloshing against the glass. "It's passion fruit."
I couldn't fight the smile spreading on my lips. I missed my mother. Even if she wasn't acting like herself. She was much better.
It was healing in a way. It hurt that she was thriving now that the center of all her pain was away from her four walls. Away from her heart.
But it still healed me anyway. To know my suffering was worth her happiness. I'd lay down my life to give her hers back. And I'd do it all with a smile.
