Freaks

39 • runaways

❝i have late night conversations with the moon.
he tells me about the sun and i tell him about you.❞
ｓ. ｌ. ｇｒａｙ

___

ＴＨＥＲＥ is an ocean between the island and me, yet when I fly, it seems almost infinitesimal.

The sea is a blur of blue, speckled in glitter, capturing sunlight in its waves and releasing it again into the deep in a flurry of white crashes. I fly as low as I dare, watching the sea flash with gold, as the flames around me illuminate my reflection. This is the fastest I've ever flown, but it's no surprise why — I am being chased. By memories, by worries, by the faces that haunt my dreams. And until I'm ready to face them, my only choice is to run away.

The distance between me and the island dwindles rapidly, and soon I know I'll have to make a decision: to land or not to land?

I rise higher into the sky the closer I get to the island. Slowly, tentatively, I circle it, pondering over my options. Then something on the ground catches my eye and I realise there was never any choice in the first place.

It starts simple.

A small twinkling light from a nearby settlement goes out. A ringing alarm bell. Then sirens. Then a flash of red and blue dashing down the narrow roads after it. A car chase, I realise.

From my viewpoint, the vehicles are the size of toy cars zooming round a race track. I hover closer to the ground to watch the scene unfurl.

Minutes later and the police still haven't caught the driver of the vehicle. My eyes trail after the perpetrator. They are nearing a crowded area. If they could barrage that road before he drives down there they could cut him off and corner him in, I think to myself.

Without further thought, I fly ahead in the direction the getaway driver intended to turn, kicking a pile of broken branches into the road and lighting them on fire in a line that spans the length of the road,

WEEE-OHH! WEEE-OHH! WEEE-OHH!

That must be the police, they are coming soon. Both of them.

I shoot into the air, landing on the roof of a nearby building to enable me to watch the action.

At the site of the blockaded roads, the driver swerves sharply, marking the roads in black as he skids to a stop.

Moments later the police catch up to him and he's apprehended.

I watch from the shadows as the perpetrator is handcuffed and transferred to one of the police cars, then I slip away, into the dusk and fly back to the DA. And for reasons I can't fully comprehend, my heart feels lighter. I can smile without having to force it. I can relax without having to think. Perhaps I may not be able to solve my own problems yet, but at least I can solve other people's.

Maybe that's why I return again the following day.

And two days after that.

And a week after that.

Maybe it's the want to forget, to stop feeling so helpless that drives me back to that same balcony. That drives me to fall out of the skies and into the arms of danger.