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2. angel

a/n: remember the fascinating fact about me from last chapter? it has a part 2: i didn't concentrate in grammar classes bc my attention span is horribly short. i proofread the last chapter 5 times, but when i reread it after i posted it, it still had so many mistakes. so, again, please point out mistakes and let me know what u think.

the song above is my newest obsession by one of my revived obsessions. it's arabic but there are basically only 2 words in the whole song. i hope u enjoy.

chapter dedicated to the wonderful micky sconemiche for a bunch of reasons. 1. she pointed out mistakes and very constructively commented on everything last chapter. 2. she's an amazing writer/artist/person. 3. she liked alaa wardi (the artist in the vid above) when i tweeted about him. see? that's what u get for commenting a lot and following me on twitter.

enjoy!

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In the time that Scott waited for his father to come back, he cried, blamed himself, cried some more, called out his father's name until the echoes came back so strong to a point that scared him – and essentially made him realize that his voice was stronger than he had perceived it to be – cried again for a while and then he fell asleep. This process went on for a while until he lost track of where the cycle started and where it ended.

During his short naps – which didn't feel like sleeping, more like losing the ability and desire to continue thinking – he saw his father. Sometimes he was working; other times he was singing lullabies to a 3-year-old version of his son. Scott couldn't understand how he knew what his father looked like working, considering he's never been to work with him, or how he remembered memories from 14 years ago, but he was too tired to question it. Or too reckless, he couldn't decide.

At some point when he wasn't aware of how conscious he was, he saw his father walking towards him. He thought he blinked – or maybe he didn't – then his father was floating before him. He raised his eyes to the wall of the canyon, of which he couldn't see anything but a hazy blur, and his father was hovering above him and singing. Shocked and suspicious, Scott raised his head to get a better view, but his father's voice came from below him. Looking below him, the voice became a vague hum from beside him, sounding like his father was grinning while singing. He whipped his head to the side, and then his father was gone. Again.

He blinked at the memory, now knowing that he had reached a point pathetic enough to start hallucinating. He tried blinking away the tears forming at the back of his eyes, but it was useless. These tears were supposed to be there, and supposed to be falling, and unlike him, they were they were should be. They were not lost in a country without their father for God only knows how long.

He had seen the burning Sinai sun rise one time so far. Or two. Or maybe three. His perception was awfully clouded, and it didn't make much of a difference to him. Because like everything, the sun was where it was supposed to be, doing what it should do and casually being itself. Maybe the sun is now up, looking down at him and wondering what a stupid, American 17-year-old is doing in Egypt alone. It probably dismisses the thought at the point where it realizes that he is stupid.
Simply because truly was stupid and no one should give a stupid boy their time.

If he was less stupid, he would have gone with his father and not decided to lay down because of a stupid headache and a little dizzy feeling. What kind of strong person stops what they were doing for a passing headache? If he had not, he would probably now be with his father, wherever he is. Perhaps he would be dead, and that may be what he is supposed to be doing now. Or maybe he was supposed to be roaming around aimlessly lost in this burning hot foreign land with his father. Maybe singing to the wolves somewhere, or illegally crossing borders.