My Hunter || D. Dixon (On Hold)

Five - Concentration

As a kid, you would play that game - Concentration 64 or something. I never understood the 64. Why 64? Why not 74? 84? 24?

Anyway, you'd play the game. The point of it was to say something in result to a category, but the catch is you can't repeat or hesitate.

I'm not positive why kids would play it. Maybe it was so that they could increase their mental skills, or perhaps it was a more memorization game.

But either way, it was a fun game kids would do when they were bored in fire drills or when they wanted to hang out after school.

If you think back to those fire-drills and 5:30 PM playdates after school, concentration was something to take your mind off of things.

It was something to whisper into your ear and remind you that it's okay to escape reality for a bit - even if it's just for a minute or two.

Physically concentrating on something else during that game is difficult - you don't remember your problems, you don't focus on anything besides the category - which can go on for hours if you tried hard enough.

Maybe that was the appeal of it. Maybe it was so that you could forget your issues for a minute, but only for a minute because once it's done, you relive the sadness and depression laces that coat your head and you remind yourself that you were only in this fake world for a minute.

It cracks your head and makes your problems on a scale - it shows what is actually wrong if anything actually is.

So you continue playing this mind-numbing, stupid game that makes your hands turn red from the constant clapping and the constant scraping of skin.

It makes you laugh with your friends as they put a sour expression on their lips, pursed as if they had just eaten a lemon.

You chuckle lightly as they sigh and put their hands down in defeat, and then you continue playing the same game. Repeating the stupid rhyme.

Concentration, 64.

No repeats or hesitation.

I'll go first, you'll go last,

The category is - anything!

But, concentration is really only fun when you're eight. When you begin to grow up, the game slowly falls down.

You're afraid to do the rhyme in fear of being different or viewed at as weird or childish, so you stop.

But then how else will you forget about the problems that lace your head?

Except you need concentration as a teenager or adult more than you need it when you're six. Because when you're fifteen and depressed, it's a lot worse than being six and sad.

So instead of concentration, you resort to splitting your skin into two with a blade.

Anything to get that feeling you got as a kid - to forget everything, for a minute.

And concentrate.

When the truck pulled to a stop reality had set in. This was a group that we could stay with and trust. There would be no more problems with trust anyone for so long anymore. No sleeping with one eye open in fear, no worrying about the safety of my brother and niece as much as I do.

Everyone but us and Rick rushed out of the truck. I brush Caleb's hair out of his face, smiling as he wakes up. "Come on, we got people to meet." I lightly push him so that he's sitting up and nod leaning on me. We got out of the truck before Rick, the rather large group that we were brought to looked at us in curiosity. Morales smiled, holding two kids in his arms with who I believe to be his wife beside him.

Just as he went to introduce us, Rick walked out, nodding to him with a small smile. No more than five seconds after he walked out was there a kid yelling. "Dad!" A boy yelled, running up to him as fast as he could. The look on Rick's face was one that I don't think I'd ever forget. He knelt down, crying as he now hugged the child, picking him up as he stood.

A smile pulled at my face, watching as he started to walk forward a bit, to a pretty lady with brunette hair. She hugged both of them, the look on her face saying that she didn't believe that this was real. Jessica stood a bit behind Caleb and me as Morales walked up to us. He brought us closer to the group, everyone putting their attention on us.

I shifted a bit, my hand tapping my thigh out of anxiety at the number of foreign eyes on me. "These two saved out lives and Rick's in Atlanta," Morales explains to the group. A lot of which smiled at us and others didn't seem to care too much for the three of us.

Morales moved out of the way, leaving me to do the introduction. "I'm Luna, this is my brother Caleb and his daughter Jessica." I greet the group, eyes darting around at the people before they stopped on a black haired man in a cop uniform who was walking up to us. He patted Rick on the back as he passed him, Rick returning the pat before going back to his family.

I held my head high, watching the built man with caution, just because the people we met are good doesn't mean the others are. He held his hand out to me. "I'm Shane." He starts. "You guys are more than welcome to stay here. Make yourselves at home." I nod my head, glancing to Caleb and Jess, who were already talking with Morales and his family. Turning away from the pair, I walk over to where Rick was with his family, talking about what had happened.

I stand next to Rick as he pats my shoulder. "This girl saved my life. Without her, I wouldn't be here." He boasts, making me roll my eyes at him. The woman immediately hugged me and thanked me repeatedly. Maybe this was the right choice.