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C.R. Beck’s Followers (13)
C.R. Beck
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The Mastering
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published
2014
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2 editions
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“Aren’t you scared?" I asked. She had a way about her that made you question existence.
"I am strong," she answered. Her voice grew with every word. "I am fiercely beautiful," she continued. Her face lit up with every utterance. "And I am not afraid," she whispered. I swear she rose a thousand feet with every note.
To this day I’ve never seen anything like the girl. She made breathing hurt. She swore she’d change it all. And now? Look at her. She’s defying gravity.”
―
"I am strong," she answered. Her voice grew with every word. "I am fiercely beautiful," she continued. Her face lit up with every utterance. "And I am not afraid," she whispered. I swear she rose a thousand feet with every note.
To this day I’ve never seen anything like the girl. She made breathing hurt. She swore she’d change it all. And now? Look at her. She’s defying gravity.”
―
“A few casualties always come with the war,” Zadok answers.
I stare at him for a moment, caught off-guard by his merciless approach. “I doubt you’d say the same if you were one of them.”
He looks at me with tired eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong.” His whole body sags, finally showing what age has done to him. “My whole family was a casualty at the Baghdad institute. My parents helped found it. It was the first institute to be targeted by its own government. They went down with it. I was twenty-five. The Jerusalem institute sent help as soon as they found out, before the Iraqi government could search the ruins. I was the only person they found still remotely close to being alive.”
His gaze looks lost as he continues. “It took me three years to recover, and four to become a carrier again. It took me that long to re-master my fear of being out of control.” His eyes shift to mine. “Don’t accuse me of not understanding the cost of this war. I understand plenty. I give myself up for it every day.”
―
I stare at him for a moment, caught off-guard by his merciless approach. “I doubt you’d say the same if you were one of them.”
He looks at me with tired eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong.” His whole body sags, finally showing what age has done to him. “My whole family was a casualty at the Baghdad institute. My parents helped found it. It was the first institute to be targeted by its own government. They went down with it. I was twenty-five. The Jerusalem institute sent help as soon as they found out, before the Iraqi government could search the ruins. I was the only person they found still remotely close to being alive.”
His gaze looks lost as he continues. “It took me three years to recover, and four to become a carrier again. It took me that long to re-master my fear of being out of control.” His eyes shift to mine. “Don’t accuse me of not understanding the cost of this war. I understand plenty. I give myself up for it every day.”
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