Lawrence paced his room, constantly rubbing his face, or pulling his hair, his wings twitching nervously, and his breathing heavy.
Can't do it.
"Shut up!" he shouted, tossing a nearby vase in the direction of where the voice had whispered devilishly from, leading the vase to an untimely end by smashing into a wall.
You can't do it.
Lawrence nearly tore another clump of hair from his head, trying to ignore the voice that was so evilly tempting him to break down.
You don't love her enough.
You've never loved her enough.
Not the first one, or the second, not even the third, and definitely not this one.
"Shut up!" he shouted again, knowing just where the voice planned on going, but unable to stop it.
Oh, but it's true, isn't it.
Of course it is
You don't have the will to do anything for anyone.
Why do you think your mother killed herself, having a son like you?
"Shut up!" he growled viciously at the second voice that laughed madly at his rage, "She didn't ... do that ... because ... of Me." he said comparably more calmly.
Well, she certainly didn't love you enough not to.
And your sister didn't love you enough to warn you about this, did she?
Lawrence tried to place his hands over his ears to block out the voices, but that seemed to only make them louder.
Poor little Lawrence, your mother killed herself in front of you.
Oh no, your sister knew this would happen, but she didn't tell you anything.
How old were you, seven? Yes, it was seven wasn't it.
Of course, why would she tell you, she's probably laughing, just thinking about what you're going through.
But wasn't the blood so pretty, weren't those your mother's last words, about how the blood sparkled like rubies?
Oh, and what about that other girl, Kaleigh, oh yes, she had no qualms about killing you, did she?
Oh, and your sister wasn't much help, was she, already so worried about her career.
So long as she made a few bucks, she didn't care about killing her little "Kiddo"
And then you went and had her killed.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he begged the voices, not wanting to remember anything about what they talked about.
Oh, and this new one, Amarissa.
Oh yes, a princess this time.
Hahaha, how stupid of him, if his own mother didn't want him,
Than how could a princess?
Isn't it cute, how he thinks he even has a chance, with a girl like that?
I know she's much too good for you.
She deserves a real prince, not the son of some common,
Two cent,
Whore
From a back alley harem.
"Please ... just ... stop already." he begged the voices, already crying from the pain the memories, and the truths, brought up.
You know what will make this stop.
Just give up; you'd never have a chance with her anyway.
How could she love someone so ancient?
The age difference is too great, how much older is he?
At least a hundred years, I think.
How disgusting, you're a sick pervert, you know that?
Going after a girl who's only, what, fourteen?
If I was her sister, I would have killed you for even thinking that you had a chance with someone so young.
Especially her sweet little sister.
"Stop it." he weakly begged as he curled into a fetal position on the floor, already feeling his resolve crumble.
No.
You need to accept just what you are.
A sick. Disgusting. Weak. Bastard.
You're a weak thing; you don't have the will to resist it.
Just give up, let yourself become numb again.
You know it will make everything go away.
Just a little breath won't hurt, now will it?
Oh no, in fact, it would be marvelous, wouldn't it?
"Fine." he finally admitted, taking the hookah from the safe he'd placed it in and breathing in the smoke, sending it deep into his constricted lungs as his addiction screamed in joy at being reunited with the drug.
Hahaha, now, will you do this again?
"Yes ... I will." he told the voices, and they were silent, though they had yet to leave.
Then, I suppose we'll be back, now won't we?
Oh yes, and next time, it will be worse.
Are you still sure you want to do this again?
You know what's going to happen.
"And I ... will be ... ready ... next time." he could feel the disappointment rolling off the voices in waves, but just as suddenly as they had come two nights ago when he had decided to go cold turkey, they were gone.
"Thank Absmuth." he said, as he dropped down to the ground, unable to support himself after all the abuse.
Jilliana had been right of course, this was the third time that he had done this, and the voices were only getting worse, he hadn't even realized that was possible, but they could make even spilled milk into the most traumatic incident of your life, and it didn't help that Lawrence already had a reservoir of misery that they could abuse.
But he had to take it, if he wanted to age, so that he could live with Amarissa, than he needed to suffer through it, and he would.
A/N: I am quite certain that most of you are having personal WTF moments at this whole situation, what with the discovery of Lawrence's mother having killed herself in front of her son when he was only seven, Kaleigh (the woman bodyguard who was once so nice to him) tried to kill him, and apparently Jilliana didn't give an eff about him when they were younger. Everything shall be explained in another story, the thing with Kaleigh won't though, so here's the short version, Jayce was actually the only one hired to escort the professor to the Nile Valley, and Kaleigh used the cover up of traveling with him because her actual mission was to kill Lawrence; she was nice to him to gain his trust so that her mission would be easier, of course, she still failed to kill him, and Jayce had to kill her for endangering his charge and being found out, such is the life of a mercenary in Wonderland.
