VII | Runaway

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OUR MINDS ARE QUICK TO FLOAT between one thought and another.

All throughout life, we float between our fears of the future and our disappointments of the past, and somehow, we forget to breathe in the present. And we're stuck in the middle of life moving on around us, trying to make sense of the unknown, what remains written in our destiny. Perhaps in the little moment of stillness, we remember that we have to live in the present, and that it's not our burden to try to make sense of it all.

Yeah, sure there will be moments and things that need to be sorted through, but in stillness there is a quiet sense of calm. And in that moment, you can gather enough strength to prepare you for what is to come. But that's where this theory doesn't work. Because even if we saw Mom give away little pieces of her heart to Dad only to be broken, we still chose to not face the facts.

And perhaps that is the biggest misery that made things turn out like this.

"And then Aaron forced Logan to wear the fairy wings, Tashi wore a ballerina tutu, and we all danced in a circle till our feet hurt." Ravi and Aaron have been trying to feed Jordan fruit because he needs to eat something other than the hospital's raspberry jello for strength. God knows he needs it after the attack. Jordan cannot stop giggling and Ravi's storytelling-coaxing is working considering the fact that he's finished half the bowl of fruit that Vince bought for him. One more story, and by then he'll be done with the entire bowl. Go team.

Vincent comes to sit next to me on my hospital bed, spreading his long legs over it till they dangle off the edges. He gently rests my shoulder on his suit-padded shoulder. It's like we've all elapsed into an acknowledged silence, as if we are all choosing to ignore the comfortable truths that taint our pasts. Deep down, I know it's only short-term till I'll have to face their harsh criticisms and judgements – years of pent-up anger they will throw my way because I left them when they needed me the most. Penance has to be paid, and I am willing to bear the brunt of it.

Logan is still asleep on the bed next to me. Despite getting shot by a bullet, my injuries aren't worse than his. Nobody has told me what pushed Logan to this state, but I have a few guesses which I suspect are correct.

Vincent rests his head on top of mine. We used to sit like this, sprawled on the sofa when I was in highschool. After a boy broke my heart, or during low moments, especially during mom's birthdays every year, after she left, he'd put on my modern family (ironic because we are just as dysfunctional as them) and we'd sit by the television, just the two of us. I'd liked to pretend that I'd never felt the pain of mom leaving us, but every year on her birthday, or our parents' wedding anniversary, it felt like a shock of cold water. I'd try my best not to cry, but it was always the same: I'd find an excuse to stay in my room all day, and cry to mom's favourite albums. I tried my best to play the music and cry softly, but if my brothers knew or heard, they'd never mentioned it.

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