Promise?

Chapter 7

"Believe it or not, lady, I'm a Time Lord. The last time lord alive. See, it all started with the time war," Roland began as he stared up at her, face blank. She looked shocked.

What was he talking about?

He was human.

Lyric's mother stood in an ugly sweater with flip-flops; her hair was greasy, and she wore no pants. Her boyfriend was behind her in a dirty white vest with shorts on, and they were both high. He wanted to cower in a corner, embarrassed. He was surprised she could leave the house in that state.

"Hold up, they are your parents?" Roland asked, looking at Lyric. Lyric shrugged. They weren’t. They had never acted like a parent.

"Like hell I am. I'm just waiting until he turns 18. Then he's on his own," she spat as she smoked a cigarette.

"Lady, he's asthmatic. You’re not supposed to smoke around him," Roland deadpanned. Why was he sticking up for him? “And you do see the oxygen on his face? One wrong move, and we all blow up.”

"Gyah, who let the hobos into the hospital?" Roland's brother asked as he walked in. "Hey, look, the cute boy is sitting up."

Who did he keep calling a cute boy?

"They're not hobos. They're his parents."

"You're shitting me," Creed replied, as he eyed them both with a look of disgust on his face. Lyric smiled a little at that.

"Yeah, no, they're hobos, of course; I'm not shitting you, you stupid dick."

"So rude," Roland gave his brother the middle finger. “And mean."

"Can you all get lost?!" she snapped.

Lyric’s eyes widened; they'd leave, and then she'd let him hit him. Lyric-eyed boyfriend 23, he believed he was. He looked like he had some pent-up anger; he couldn’t wait to get out, and Lyric was the perfect opportunity. They hadn't even moved past the doorway.

Just because Lyric was used to the pain didn’t mean he liked or wanted the pain. "I can't. Claire made me promise not to, and if I did, she'd probably get Chris on me."

"I thought he wasn't your parole officer anymore."

"You thought wrong. I f****d up.”

"Ahh, nice, say hi to Chris for me."

"I hate you."

"You get used to it."

"So, no, lady, I won't leave. You’re welcome to make me, though," Creed said as he took a seat on Lyric’s bed, quickly bringing his legs to his chest and making sure not to touch the older boy. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let himself dirty the boy.

"Don't do that, moron; Claire said he doesn’t like being touched sometimes, and this is one of those times," Roland said as he sighed. Was he annoying him?

"Also, what the hell have you done to this boy? He's scarred as f**k; I mean, his neck's been strangled,” Creed asked as he eyed his neck.

"That was Billy," Roland replied.

"Billy, who?"

"Billy Ray Cyrus! Which f*****g Billy do you think?!"

Who was Billy Ray Cyrus?

"Oh, no, but Billy's hands aren't that big. See? There are two sets of marks. One would fit perfectly with either of the hobos in front of us.

"Huh, who would have thought they'd let hobos in," Zeke said as he walked in, his friends behind him and behind Claire, another boy who looked like the male version of her.

"I swear to god, I'm innocent!" Creed yelled at the boy-like version of Claire.

He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Creed, can someone tell me why there are two hobos? Lyric, Pain in the ass one and two, my ass of a sister, her pissy Asian friend, her coffee-loving friend and pain in the ass one's best friend here . . . Ah, s**t, they're not hobos, it's Andria and her current boyfriend . . . My bad." Boy Claire said, and judging from his uniform, he was a police officer. He wore a police uniform, but now his mother had hidden her cigarette.

It was too crowded.

The walls seem to be closing in on him! Why were they getting smaller?

"I don't think the machine is supposed to beep like that," Max whispered as he eyed the machine. Again, Lyric didn’t think anyone paid attention to him. But he was right. They weren’t supposed to be beeping like that.

A nurse came rushing in. "He's feeling overwhelmed. I will have to ask at least four people to leave." Oh, it was Maxine. She was a lovely old lady with grey hair and pretty blue eyes.

She always talked to Lyric when she was on shift. Even if she were in a different ward, she'd make time for him and not make him feel lonely. Lyric liked Maxine.

"That's easy. How about you all leave? I need to talk to Lyric before he changes modes," Claire said.

"Take him! Oh, and once you're out, stay out for two weeks," mother's boyfriend snapped.

"What does he mean?" Roland asked as he glared at him. Lyric shrugged, pretending not to know.

"Have fun. We're leaving.” She grabbed her boyfriend's arm, and the two of them left. Maxine left, waving goodbye, promising she'd be back soon.

A minute later, only Roland, Claire and Lyric were left. "Row, that means you too."

"No. I'm staying."

"Why?"

"Because I am."

"I am too tired to complain," Claire muttered.

"First of Lyric, that last sentence, what did she mean?"

Lyric shrugged. "Don't shrug! You know what she was talking about," Roland said. He shrugged. He thought that action seemed to piss him off more.

"Row, calm your ass down."

"The phone call I had with her, she was screwing her boyfriend. Was she going to talk to you like that?" Lyric didn't reply.

"Lyric, I need to know," she whispered gently. He wouldn't get close to her, her friends or Max.

She was way too nice.

She would leave, or she’d want something.

He didn't reply again. "Okay, let's do it like this. You ask me a question, we answer; we ask you a question, you answer." Lyric thought about it for a second. He nodded. He had too many questions that needed answers.

Both Roland and Claire seemed to smile at that. Claire's was more prominent, but Roland's was . . . more better. Lyric liked Roland's smile.

"Okay, us first. Why was your mother f*****g her boyfriend while she rang you?" Claire asked cautiously.

Lyric didn’t know. She regularly f****d her boyfriend when she rang him. Lyric took out his phone and typed: "I don't know."

Okay. His turn. "What's a time lord?" Lyric turned the phone so Roland could see what he had typed. Roland read the words and laughed.

Why was he laughing?

Lyric was serious.

He frowned. He needed Roland to stop laughing at him.

"A time lord is a . . . Creature. They look human but are hundreds of years old and have two hearts. They regenerate when they die. They also have a TARDIS,” Roland said. “It's from Doctor Who?'"

Confused, he typed: "Doctor, what?"

"Not what. Who. Doctor Who. It's a show." Oh, he understood now. He nodded at them both.

"What did she mean when she said you'll be alone when you turn 18?" Roland asked this time.

He was sitting in the chair beside him, and he looked pretty. His green eyes were beautiful, but today, they had eye bags. They also seemed . . . darker than they did on Monday, maybe because the light was hitting them nicely.

Oh, right, he had asked a question. What she meant by that was that the moment Lyric turned 18, he would no longer be living with her. She'd get rid of him sooner, but her side of the family didn't agree. So it wasn't straightforward.

Instead, he typed, "When I turn 18, I'm leaving."

"Leaving where?" Roland asked quickly. Did he think he meant leaving by heading up north?

Lyric shrugged.

His turn. “Who's Billy Ray Cyrus?"

"You seriously don't know who Billy Ray Cyrus is?" Roland asked, and he shook my head no. "He's . . . remember Miley Cyrus?"

He quickly typed, "The one who came in like a wrecking ball?"

Roland snorted. "Yes, the one who came in like a wrecking ball, it's her dad."

Ohh.

"Now, the final question is, what happened to your body?" Claire asked cautiously.

He froze.

Please. No one was supposed to ask about that. He didn't like talking about it. He didn’t like those memories. Lyric bit his lip. Hard. Until he accidentally tasted blood. Roland reached his hand out, but he smacked it away. Roland rolled his eyes.

He didn't want to tell them.

So, he typed his most common lie. "I'm clumsy."

~*~