Purpose

The Prisoner

A popular saying goes, "Live life to the fullest."

What does it mean to live? Like truly living your life?

Does living feel like flying high to the sky? Does living feel like being invincible? Does living feel like being a bird that is free?

How do people know that they are truly living their life?

How can a person say 'I've lived' so surely?

Are they really sure that they lived their life to the fullest instead of just being alive and going with life's flow?

How does one live life?

How?

Saint is sure he isn't living his life. He is just alive.

He is just breathing.

He can't remember anything else except his university, the hospital, and his room.

What's the difference between today and yesterday? Did he do anything memorable this month? How about last month? Or last year?

Everything is just a blur.

The only times that his memories are not a mess is when he is with his three friends.

He does not know when they all started going to the hideout nor when they started to become friends.

But he is sure that when everything is choking him, when everything is making it hard to breathe, he found his breath of fresh air in the presence of the squad.

Saint looked around his large room.

It feels empty. It makes him small.

He hates this place.

His room is larger than their hideout. And he'd choose their hideout over his cold room in a heartbeat.

This room is bare. No sentimental things or anything important is found.

It is indeed his prison.

Unlike his room, their hideout is full of pictures pasted on the wall. It was full of reminders that the 98-line had each other --- that amidst their broken selves, they can have a moment of happiness and freedom.

He looked at the time in his phone.

00:18

So it is already past midnight, he noted.

He was glad that his parents will be out of town this weekend for some business related meetings.

He left a note on his bed that says, "Don't worry about me. Don't tell Mom & Dad."

He is sure their servants will be able to read it tomorrow (or more like later) when they check up on him.

And instead of escaping through his window like he usually does, Saint silently left his house through the front door since his parents are away.

He heads to the only place he feels the safest.

Their hideout.

-

He was all alone in the hideout and he cannot sleep.

He is wide awake staring at the moon from the window.

Until he heard the lock click.

And Title entered, full of a new batch of bruises even if his previous bruises aren't fully healed yet.

"Saint," Title muttered quietly.

Saint nodded at his friend. "Do you want to talk about it?"

His friend glanced at him and sat on the sofa. "The same as usual. The old man let out his frustrations on me."

Saint was about to stand up to help Title but the latter held up his hand.

"I'm fine. Just stay there," Title said, as he leaned back to the sofa.

So as he was told, Saint went back to his seat by the window.

"On second thought, can you get the first aid kit for me?"

Saint sighed and looked disapprovingly at Title who just grinned.

After handing Title the first aid kit, he went back to his seat and stared at the moon.

"Why is snow white?" Saint asked out of the blue.

There was a pause before Title answered, "I don't know."

"Why is a heart called a heart?"

"Why do royalties wear a crown?"

"Why are myths called fiction?"

"How come people vary in skin color?"

Saint was just speaking a lot of questions as he gazed at the moon.

Title just finished treating his wounds when Saint looked at him as he asked, "Do you know why not all chocolates are sweet?"

He looked at Saint, unamused. "My name is Title, not Google."

Saint laughed. "I know, Title. But I'm serious though."

Title shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because chocolates have varieties on them?"

Saint shook his head. "It is because not all sweet things can be sweet."

This got Title confused. "Example?"

"Friendship, joy, and life."

"Please elaborate."

Saint look at the moon again. "If there is friendship, there is betrayal. If there is joy, there is sorrow."

He placed his right hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

I'm alive. I will live.

He looked at Title who was waiting for him to finish.

"And if there is life, there is death."