Mohammed had just returned home feeling insanely exhausted. He had tried to catch a quick nap in the bus ride home, but it wasn't enough. On top of that, he grew guilty for not giving Nami a chance to defend herself. Though he kept on telling himself that it was the right move as it was what he was taught from a young age.

There are always more snakes in new grass. A message left to him by his father and one of the only pieces of advice he considered useful in the South. Though doubt kept on holding him back as he remembered the few memories he and Nami had together. The turtleneck she lent him served as a reminder of her kindness.

He sighed before planting himself on his bed. As stiff as it was, at least he could lie down on it.

He stayed there for a good ten minutes before forcing himself up. His mother had the night shift, so it was up to him to make dinner. He took off his blazer and tie and walked straight to the kitchen.

Using his magic, he lit the gas stove and placed the frying pan on the flame. After that he cut a cube of butter and threw it in the heating pan. Grabbing the pre-cut onions from the fridge, he threw them in and let them sizzle for a while. Fried rice was the meal for the night, a recipe his mom taught him. Once he was done with the rice, he made a chicken soup with some onion rings on the side. Tempering the heat with magic to quicken the process.

"Show off." He heard his brother comment from behind him.

Mohammed turned to shoot back a clever retort but softened when he saw the bruised eye and bleeding nose on his brother.

"Hassan, what happened!?" He switched off the fire and ran straight to his younger brother.

"What do you think?" Hassan's snarky tone exposed his defensiveness, clueing Mohammed in what might've happened.

"Who was it?" Mohammed asked, this time dawning a more serious look.

"Just a bunch of no-bodies from school who think they can step up on my turf." Hassan explained. Moe could tell his brother wasn't telling him the full story, but he ignored it.

"Are they affiliated? You know if they are, I could get it dealt with." Hassan scoffed at Mohammed's question.

"You're right, things like that should be easy for a mage like you." Mohammed could sense the underlying envy in his brother's tone.

"If I was a mage like you and dad then all of this would've never happened." Mohammed sighed and kneeled to be level with his younger brother. He locked his gaze with his, communicating with him a message that needed no words.

"Listen, I know you want to protect me, but you school in the North now big bro. I can't keep relying on you and Nate." He argued.

"But that's what a big brother is for, I protect you from all the unnecessary stuff, so you can focus on living a good life." Mohammed spoke in a gentle tone, hoping that his message could get through his brother.

"How long do you want me to stay helpless?" The question was a sudden shock, and before Mohammed could answer, his brother continued.

"If you keep fighting for me, then I'll never learn to fight back. I don't want to be a weakling anymore. I want you to teach me Magic." Moe hesitated as a brief memory of how he learned came to him. His brow contorted into multiple folds as the memory brought with it a stinging pain all over his body.

"I can't---" He mumbled out.

"Why!?" Hassan roared, his patience running thin.

"Because I don't know how to!" It wasn't a complete lie, sure he could tell him about how he learned and what he had to go through, but he wasn't sure if that would teach him anything. Worst of all, he'd have to revisit those memories he tried so hard to ignore.

"When I first learned magic, I was really young, I can barely remember how dad taught me. All I remember was how much pain I had to go through in order to learn it." Another half-truth, but to protect his brother from experiencing the same pain he went through, Moe didn't mind lying. Hassan groaned in anger and left the kitchen.

"Hassan!" Mohammed called out, but he was ignored. He sighed and went back to cooking.

He's right. Moe thought. Hassan eventually needs to learn how to protect himself but teaching him magic is out of the question. He threw the ingredients he prepared together, and periodically flipped the rice. Watching the flames rise with a dejected expression on him.

I don't care what happens, as long as I'm still here, I'll make sure Hassan never has to learn magic. He picked up his phone and dialed Nathaniel to tell him the news, and give one simple instruction. "We'll have to increase policing in Zone 7, make sure Jumbo gets the memo." As always, Nathaniel agreed to his instructions without question. Moe smiled; trust was a rare commodity in the South which was why he was glad to have Nate on his side.

His thoughts slipped back into the argument he had with Nami, reopening the pit of guilt he tried to ignore with his cooking. He shook his head.

Can't get stuck up on that. I've made my choice. Mohammed thought.

He finished dinner and called the twins to come eat, but Greshme was the only one to come. Hassan stayed in his room. The two ate dinner quietly and once they were done, Moe washed the dishes while his sister prepared for bed. He tried to talk to his little brother but was stopped at the door by his little sister.

"Hassan says he doesn't want to speak to you." She said, standing with the door half open.

"Ai come on Greshme, can't you just let me in." Moe pleaded.

Hassan walked up to the door and just when Moe was about to speak, the door was slammed in his face with the sound of the lock clicking.

Moe sighed and just walked to his room in defeat.

____________________________________________________

Moe twisted and turned in his bed as large beads of sweat plagued his body. His heart raced a million miles a minute and his movements were overly erratic. He felt a weight hold him down making it practically impossible to breathe. He grabbed his sheets as if he wanted to tear them off and then finally, he shot up from his sleeping position, his heart banging violently against his chest.

He took sharp breaths as he felt weirdly out of it, like he had just completed a 100-mile marathon just sprinting. He grasped his chest as his heart felt ready to jump out. This happened for a brief 5 minutes before he could finally calm down.

He got out of bed to check on the twins who, as always, were cuddled up together even though they had separate beds. This time it was Hassan who migrated over to his sister's bed which wasn't usually the case. He entered the room and let out a few balls of light that radiated a soft heat that warmed the room. Kissing the two on the forehead he lingered on his brother as he remembered his earlier words. They still stung, but it never shifted his conviction.

Just as he exited the room, he could hear loud thuds from his mother's room. The thuds came in constant intervals, as if someone was hammering a nail. He slowly walked towards the door and faint moans could be heard coming from the other side. His body began shaking intensely as if he was afraid of what lay on the other side of that door. He took a deep breath and turned the knob, entering the room.

.

.

.

.

.

Wide-eyed, he saw his mother being held down by the throat. The culprit, a shirtless man on top of her. The man loosened his grip on her and slowly turned to him, his face covered by the shadows of the night.

Fire erupted from Moe's entire body as he looked at the man with intense malice. Moe dashed towards him with nothing but killer intent riddled all over his face, but within a flash, the man countered, grabbing Moe on the mouth and slamming him on the floor while simultaneously extinguishing his flame.

He looked Moe dead in the eye with a sadistic smile on his face. His figure glowed in the moonlight as he straightened himself. A chiseled naked physique with lean muscle and broad shoulders. His body patterned with chest hair and his face hosting a dark unkempt beard and shoulder length curly hair. Though the feature that sent a cold shiver down his spine was the heartless amber eyes that stared back at him.

"Hello, son. I'm sorry for my violent introduction, but I was still a little busy." His low and composed voice shook every bone in his body.

"M-Moe sweety, I can explain." His mother's voice called out to him. She covered her body with the blanket they were under and instantly a sick feeling rose in his stomach.

His breathing got erratic as his heart felt like it stopped in place. Just as the man reached out to help him up, he instinctively stood up and ran towards the door, tripping and stubbing his toe on his way outside the house but not stopping. He sprinted in the cold, dark night. Running as fast as his legs could carry him.

Why! How! He panicked as he slowly descended into madness. Anger, sadness, hatred and fear. These were the emotions that plagued him, accompanied by a sickening feeling in his gut. Mohammed stopped to vomit next to a sign that ironically read 'welcome home.' Memories of his past parading in his mind without consent. He continued his run not knowing where he was running to. He just ran, trying his hardest to silence the memories.

He ran until his legs felt numb and then collapsed when they couldn't run any further. He turned over to look at the gloomy clouds over head and felt the first drop of rain land on his nose. Shortly after, the entire street was wet with rain with the soothing scent of wet tar finally getting him to calm down. He surveyed his surroundings to see that he had somehow ended up in Nathaniel's neighborhood. Picking himself up with what little strength he had left, he walked to his friend's house, dragging his feet the entire way.

The rain seemed to intensify as the wind blew his hair all over until they were too damp to move, the curls of his hair sticking on his forehead. For the first time in a while he began to shiver as the cold got to him. He wore no shirt to cover his scars, only wearing the drenched pajama pants he left with.

When he arrived a passing thought of Nami came to him before he knocked on the door.

Is this what they call karma? He wondered at the cruel irony of it all. He knocked and after a minute, the door swung open with him staring down the barrel of a Desert Eagle.

"Mohammed?" Nathaniel asked before putting his gun down.

Mohammed studied the floor, unable to look his friend in the eye. The shame of him being there made worse by the request he was about to make of him.

"I need a place to sleep."