Runaway's Liberation

Prologue

Trigger Warning: Suicide, death

"How's it going?"

"Not bad."

That was the only response my cousin, Nolan, gave me that afternoon. He was staring out the window, watching the raindrops hit the glass, trailing down, while the sun's weak rays faintly illuminated the scene.

We could both see the wet pavement below, the paving stones slick and darkened by the rain, and the road, shining like a mirror. The streets were a blur of people holding umbrellas, their bright colors a stark contrast to the grayness of the sky.

Nolan had been in this hospital room for over a month now. I watched him in silence, his body still, his wrists wrapped in bandages that bore the faint stain of dried blood.

Hindi ito masyadong umiimik mula ng dumating ako. We weren't really close. And "Nolan"—the name I always called him—was only his second name.

Pinapanood ko lang siya na pagmasdan ang labas habang iniisip kung paanong dumating siya sa sitwasyon na 'to. Bumalik ulit lahat sa isip ko... I can still remember, and I can still recall how I woke up one midnight because of the ringing of my phone, how I ignored the call, and how it made me hesitant to answer until I received a voice message and heard Nolan's voice on the other end.

I don't really know what happened to him. Halos wala akong ideya. I just heard from our relatives that he had tried to take his own life multiple times already. Slashing his wrists, standing on train tracks, and walking onto roads where cars and trucks could hit him. He was once even found in his room, overdosed on sleeping pills. He cheated on his exams, failed his subjects, and was even caught using his phone during class. When his professor confiscated his phone and took a picture of the screen to report him, she saw that he was on a website asking an AI how to die without his body getting found. And all the AI responded with was, "I'm really sorry you're feeling this way, but I can't assist with that."

He was losing it. It got so bad that he had to drop out of university. I didn't know much after that—just that he stayed in his room for weeks. And then it happened again. His ways. His relapses. Drugs.

My aunts told me he had completely fallen from grace. They said he was on crack, that he was losing his mind... his sanity. That he wasn't the good and bright kid anymore. That he's not the perfect one any longer.

They said they were so disappointed.

"What a loss," they said, and things like, "He used to be great. What happened to him?" or "It's his mom's fault."

Muntik na akong matawa. Mukha silang siraulo. Ang kikitid ng utak. Paano nangyari 'yon? Paanong ganoon sila mag-isip e ang tanda-tanda na nila? Aren't the adults supposed to be the one who could understand the younger ones? Aren't they always acting like a know-it-all?

Muntik ulit akong matawa nang ma-realize na medyo marami naman pala akong nalalaman tungkol sa nangyari. Andito nga ako ngayon, eh. Binabantayan siya. Hindi ko rin alam kung bakit.

Probably because I understand him? Or probably because I know how hard it must be?

Muling bumalik sa isip ko ang gabing 'yon.

"I will rot in this room forever... Please help."

It was a short and quick voicemail. Pamilyar ang boses. I looked at the screen of my phone and saw an unknown number. So I called the number back to confirm who it was. It just kept ringing... ringing... until he answered.

"Hello—"

"I'm going to rot. My soul's going to rot. I am rotting!"

It was the same thing he'd said in the voicemail. He kept repeating those words like he was rehearsing them, over and over. Nakapagtataka. Bumubulong lang siya, binubulong niya lang lahat ng 'yon pero halos mabingi ako noon. And then I heard him panting heavily. Na parang mauubusan na siya ng hininga. It made me freeze in place. I couldn't bring myself to speak. I didn't know what to say.