RUNS IN THE FAMILY 𐦟 SALTBURN

01

- { ° 𐦟 ° } -

1998



"Kieran, darling? Can you come here?"

The boy's head perked up, his book immediately forgotten in favor of his mother's voice. It still held a bit of a posh lilt from her childhood in England, though that was many years ago.

He pushed his spinning chair away from his desk so fast the wheels nearly left the floor, and he quickly placed his socked feet on the wooden floorboards.

As his body's weight began to rest on his legs in preparation to scurry out the bedroom door, he felt a sudden surge of pain. He let out a sharp cry before falling forward.

Now, before we continue there are a few things you must know about young Kieran Start.

He was seven, he had a brother four years older, he loved soccer, he did not know his father, and he was very sick- not that he was aware of that last point quite yet.

Not sick in the traditional way, or at least not often. But he had asthma and had had pneumonia twice, bronchitis once. More pressing at the moment, however, were the sudden bouts of joint pain he was prone to having.

None of these moments of discomfort could compare to the jaw clenching, finger curling, eye watering pain he felt as he collapsed.

The thud that this subsequently caused must have been concerning, for the next thing he heard was, "Farleigh, be a dear and check on him?" and a groan from his older brother.

"What's your problem?" he demanded as soon as Kieran was within his line of sight.

He whimpered, pointing lamely to his legs.
"...hurts..."

Farleigh rolled his brown eyes and crossed his thin arms, a perfect model of preteen disdain. "Get up, Mom wants to talk to you or something."

He puffed out his round cheeks and squared himself as much as he could, preparing his tiny body as if for war. He pushed himself into a kneeling position, but before he could get much further he felt...something...slide...

A dull popping noise followed this odd feeling, then-

He knew three things. He was screaming. His left knee hurt so much he wished it were gone entirely. His brother had left the doorway.

- { ° 𐦟 ° } -

2002



There was genuinely not a single thing pleasurable about traveling.

Having to choose what to bring along, knowing full well there's a chance you'll forget something vital was bad enough- worse when you were Kieran Start.

His bag when visiting anywhere invariably included several books, a small set of paints and a hand bound book of blank watercolor paper, sweaters, and an ipod.

But it also held dofetilide for his arrhythmia, iron pills for his anemia, an inhaler for his asthma, braces for his knees, wrists, hips, and back, and pain medication for his everything.