22.

TW: Self Harm.

I pulled myself away from the gruesome memory, my chest heaving fast and hard. As I took in a deep breath, my phone dropped to the floor with a thud.

The rage. The pain. All too unbearable for me to manage. I needed a distraction. Some sort of pain to dull the one that was already ripping at my insides like a chicken being violently shredded with a fork. And so, I did the one thing that would help bring me back to my senses for a moment, at least. I reached for the glass cup beside me and squeezed it until it shattered, the tiny bits of it cutting sharply into my palms.

Quite a few of the razor-sharp shards of glass embedded themselves into my hand and between my fingers. The piercing, yet familiar pain, made me take in deep gulps of air. Every time I moved my fingers ever so slightly, the pain ran up my arm, bringing the known relief with it.

The pain didn't last long, though. Being a lycan has its benefits, but right now it is having the opposite effect I had hoped for. My body automatically pushed out all the tiny glass shards before healing the wounds completely. And just like that, I was back to my pathetic, old self.

I stared blankly at the red blood on my palms, watching with detachment as the last of the wounds vanished. I was left with streaks of my own blood staring back at me. Sometimes, it sucks being a lycan because I can't even be in physical pain for as long as I want. I can't use that pain to dull out the other, even if it is the only thing that sometimes keeps me in check.

The one time physical pain like this helped was when I used the silver potion Tabitha made for one of our little experiments. Sadly though, my friends found out what I did and since then, none of the three has allowed me close to the potion.

So, I settled for this little bit of pain from the glass, which lasted only for a few seconds, but enough to draw me back to sanity.

It hurts. It hurts so damn much. Not that it was the first nor would it be the last time this happens. It always happens. I am constantly pulled back to that scene. I am constantly reminded of how unworthy I am. How undeserving. Unwanted.

Do you know what they say about craving something you can't have? That's the exact situation I am in. Craving for Baba's attention. For just the smallest fraction of the love, he shows Aiden. It is too much, and yet, I can't stop the desperate urge to make him notice me.

It has always been this way. I grew up with so much love from Mama, Aiden, and even my twin cousins Donald and David, and their sister Lacie. But I got nothing except despise from Baba. I always wondered if I was doing something wrong to warrant that, something that made Baba punish me that way, and it took me a while to finally realise what it was.

I was not his mate's son. That alone is the reason for Baba to dislike me so greatly.

But, here is the problem: It wasn't as though I made myself out of thin air. I didn't impregnate myself into my mother's womb, and nor did she do it alone. I was begotten, and the most both Baba and my birth mother could do for me was love me like every child out there.

But I had none of that. But I had none of that. I don't even have my lycan counterpart to help me contain it all since we were banished, because once we break the shield, Amadi is ultimately going rogue. And we don't want that. It is why he's locked away within my consciousness and stirring only once in a while.

My mother left me. And Baba never wanted me. At least, not once Aiden came into the picture.

I don't want to, but sometimes, it is nearly impossible to deal with it. It is nearly impossible to stop myself from hating...no, hate is a too strong word, and I know that I've never hated Aiden, nor will I ever do that. But sometimes, I just can't help thinking if things would've been different between Baba and me if he had never been in the picture...

Sometimes, I genuinely wish he was never born...

A terrible squeezing in my chest made me inhale sharply through my mouth. For a moment, it felt as though a needle was being used to pierce every single part of my chest in slow gruesome certainty. It's like all my past pains decided to come rushing in at the same time, making it nearly impossible to think straight.

I hate myself for being this way. No, in a way, I do know I hate myself in entirety. It sucks that I have nothing to offer. Instead of being a prince who helps his subjects, I am just a rogue on the run, with a lycan counterpart on the verge of fully going wild. Yet, there is nothing I can do. Nothing that I can offer but my sorry excuse of a self.

I hate this. I totally hate being this... weak bastard whose pain seems to be the only language he understands. It is, however, the only language I do understand. Which brings me to my next disturbing factor: my mate.

It would be totally unfair for me to hold on to this bond, not when I know I have nothing to offer her but pain - over and over again. Not when I know there isn't a part of me that is whole, and that even if I do try to give her a part of myself, she'd only end up with my broken pieces.

Sherneil doesn't deserve that. Heck, she didn't deserve a mate like me right from the start.

And I intend to correct the mistake. Because everything be damned, I was undeserving of a mate.

Before I allowed myself to do something terrible, I grabbed my phone from the floor with my bloodied hand and quickly scrolled through the contacts to find Mama's name. Talking to Mama always helps, but I don't like imposing on her, so I hardly call when I'm in a shitty mood like this. Funnily enough though, Mama always seems to notice when I need her the most.

And it made me feel even worse.

"Yarona dan Albarka," Mama's soft voice floated through my ears. "How is my big boy doing?"

I sucked in a deep sigh, shutting my eyes as I let the calmness of her voice soothe the burning pain in my chest. "Mamana ina wuni?" I greeted, putting in as much happiness as I could in my voice. "I am fine. And how is the world's best mama doing?"

She chuckled. "This old woman is suffering from an ailment of missing her son. Is there a remedy for that?"

I couldn't help it. Heck, I couldn't hold it even if I tried to contain it. The laughter ripped itself out of me before I could do anything, and I liked it. I liked the feeling it evoked.

"There should definitely be a remedy to that. The old woman can definitely visit said son."

There was a pause from her end, and I wondered if Baba was close by.

"You know I would if I could. The last time I saw you was a year ago, Maverick. Do you think you are being fair to this mother of yours?" Mama asked quietly.

I scratched my head, unable to say anything. Last year, Mama visited me back at the human world, and it didn't end well, because Baba came down to drag her back. Knowing Mama, she didn't back down and refused to return till she spent the week she planned there with me.

It was one of those few happy moments of my life, and Mama was the reason for it.

"I'll come for dinner tonight," I finally said.

"You will?" Mama asked, a hint of shock in her voice. "You would come to...Zambele?"

"I am already in Zambele, Mama," I replied with a small laugh. "I'll come to have dinner with you today. Is that okay?"

"More than okay!" Mama sang happily. "This old woman is finally feeling very much better. Your remedy seems to work perfectly, my fine boy."

I laughed, my body shaking from the impact before silence finally settled between us.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked quietly after a moment.

There it was. The care. The love. The want. All that I yearned for desperately from Baba. Why can't I just embrace what Mama has for me and completely forget about Baba's existence? Why does it never feel enough?

"You do know that you can talk to me, right? Only if and when you want to, Maverick. I just want you to know that regardless of what you think, regardless of what you are made to believe, I have and will always love you. And you will always, always be my son. Always."

"I know," I said tightly, looking up at the ceiling in a bid to stop the tears gathering in my eyes. "I know, Mama," I said again. "I'm just not strong enough, yet. I still feel like a failure..."

"Kul! Kar in sake jin ka fadi haka! (No! I don't want to ever hear you say that!)" Mama snapped. "I am not going to dictate how you should feel, or tell you what you should think. All I'm going to say is that you should be kind to yourself, Maverick. Your heart deserves that. Your body deserves that. And your mate deserves that as well. Above all though, YOU deserve that."

I worked around the tightness in my throat, the images of Sherneil on the couch as I took her without any gentleness. The image of her from last night, calm and collected in a place she knows so well. Then the image of Mama's dazzling smile, her big hugs, and wonderful food. And I knew then that for these two women, I could be anything. I could DO anything.

Including trying to...love myself.

"I promise you I'm trying," I muttered. Lies. Fat bloody thick lies, but she doesn't have to know that. "I will make you proud someday..."

"I am already proud of you, Maverick. Always have been. Now, enough of these soul-shattering talks. What would you like me to make for you?"

"My favourite!" I said with a wide grin, my mood instantly switching as I remembered the days Aiden and I ate from the same plate and then fought over who would lick the plate clean last.

"You've got it!" She laughed. "Do Aiden and Natasha know you are here?"

"No. I plan to surprise them both."

"Great! I will invite them for dinner too then watch how things unfold." Mama chuckled. "It would be a sight to see. And I bet Nana would be thrilled to see you too. We all missed you."

"I missed you all too," I replied, "but I've got to go now. I'll see you tonight, Mamana."

"Take very good care of yourself, my son. See you tonight."

I held onto the phone long after Mama had ended the call, and for some reason, I was filled with the urge of wanting to see my mate.