Free Flesh Ravenous (Book 1) by James M. Gabagat Page A

vigor. Maybe it was a habit. “Hey, Lawrence, you there?” she spoke politely to make up for the obtrusive knock.
    “I’m not here, Sonya.” Lawrence said from within the closed room.
    “Oh, you’re not in there. Well, Lawrence, have you seen Lawrence around?”
    “Sonya, I’m not in the mood to see you or hear you right now,” He spoke indifferently but not angrily. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he were actually angry.
    “I really just wanna talk.” She maintained her politeness. It sounded blatantly false to her. “Please, Lawrence.”
    “Why are you nice to me all of the sudden? I don’t think I like it very much.”
    Sonya lost patience. “You know what? I’m just gonna fucking come in anyway. If you don’t like it, that’s too bad.” She turned the knob with her usual, almost uncontrollable, vigor and entered the room.
    Lawrence sat on one of two armchairs with a quilted blanket wrapped over his shoulders, his head laid back, and his arms hung lazily off the armrests. He didn’t regard Sonya or move from his position. He almost looked asleep with his eyes open.
    Sonya walked tentatively toward Lawrence. When he said he didn’t want to see her or hear her, he must’ve meant it, judging by his unresponsiveness.
    “Just wish me a happy Thanksgiving and leave,” said Lawrence. “Don’t stress me out. I told you I’m not in the mood.”
    Sonya took the empty armchair and sat with a stiff posture, not intending to stay beside him long. “Give me a chance to be nice to you right now. I think you owe me for saving your life outside.”
    “You mean from that dead kid with the blonde afro puff? I could’ve easily taken him down myself. I don’t owe you anything, Sonya. I could’ve taken him out with my fists.”
    Sonya so badly wanted to laugh. Taken him out with his fists, he says. Oh my God that’s hilarious. “Would you please, Lawrence?” She begged, even though she was always too prideful to beg. She owed it to Lawrence, from the night he and Kyle had snuck out. Lawrence had to fend off several of the dead things by himself to return to the house safely. That was after he was forced to kill his best friend. It was surely a difficult night for Lawrence, and Sonya never offered him sympathy, only blamed him for Kyle, telling Lawrence he was too weak to protect anyone. She had told Lawrence she wished it was him instead of Kyle laying with a bullet in the brain on Ian David’s bed. She later realized that her words were below cruel, below foolish, and had always been too ashamed and too proud to apologize ever since. Truly she was sorry. Lawrence was never someone she hated.
    “Okay, Sonya,” he smiled, sneeringly and mischievously it looked, “be nice to me.” He sounded maniacally subtle, like a kidnapper flaunting a lollipop in front of a child.
    “I was wrong,” Sonya went straight to the point. “Wrong about what I said and how I acted, I—”
    “Sonya, just apologize,” Lawrence said flatly. “That’s all you have to do.”
    Sonya was unsure of his response. Was he still mad? Was he ready to forgive? “If I do, will you forgive me?”
    Lawrence finally stirred from his indolent stupor and faced her. “I’ve forgiven you a long time ago. I just want an apology because you wounded me with the things you said. I’m not weak and I’m not a failure—at least, I now try hard not to be. Just because I don’t act bitchy, like you, doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything.”
    Sonya relaxed and slowly settled into the armchair, resting her head back. “I’m sorry, Lawrence. I’m really sorry for everything I’ve said.”
    “I forgive you.”
    “Happy Thanksgiving, I guess.”
    Lawrence smiled, and this time it was a normal smile of contentment, not some up-to-no-good grin, which was typical of him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
    Sonya considered leaving the room, now that they’d reconciled (It wasn’t really reconciliation, the two were never close friends to begin with),