"Fight, flight, or screw up royally."
"They were tied together with string; no matter what happened or how far they traveled apart, they still found their way back to each other."
Two years before the legendary names: Connor Lassiter, Risa Ward, and...
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BRIAN
On day 5 after departing from Emme, Brian now drives through Illinois. He wasn't sure how he's been making it so far considering that he doesn't have very much money and is an unwind AWOL. He's not too sure how much farther he can make it before having to ditch the car altogether. He might have to hotwire another vehicle soon.
Being alone only left him with his thoughts. And his thoughts stressed him out. When he walks into shops or gas stations, people always second glance at him. But nothing ever happens. No juvies are called. No guns are pointed at him. No parts pirates. Whenever a police cruiser drives near, he gets super tensed up. But again, nothing happens. And for some reason it angers Brian a bit.
I'm just invisible now. No one cares enough to even spare me a hello or a call to Juvenile Authority. Brian says to himself as he passes the boundary lines between Illinois and Indiana.
He feels emotionally and physically exhausted. He's had little to no sleep this past week. Brian's been living off goldfish, animal crackers, and Arizona $1 teas. It's not much, but it keeps him somewhat stable.
He wonders at times what would've happened if he chose to stay with Emme. Would he be warm and cozy under layers of blankets in a guest bedroom? Would he be eating warm breakfasts and watching early morning cartoons? Maybe he would actually have the chance to build a relationship with Emme. Maybe there could've been something more between them.
But it was too late for that. Brian made his choice. And now he'll have to live without seeing her again.
And he was wrong with that too.
----
He passed a sign saying, Entering Akron, Ohio.
Brian pulled into a grocery store to pick up maybe a sandwich from the deli section and a drink. Maybe he'd be able to score some cheap chap stick for his dry lips. Or maybe some sun glasses for the blaring light that always seems to catch his eye sight for hours.
He parked towards the side of the parking lot to avoid being seen as possible. He kept his hood up and head down, but still not trying to act too suspicious.
"Is this all for ya?" the woman with bright red hair in a bun asked with a slight southern accent.
Brian nodded slightly, "Yup."
"Alrighty. There you go," she smiled brightly as she handed over the bag of food.
He forced a smile and headed out back to the car. Every time he saw it, he felt so out of place. It seemed way too nice of a car for an unwind AWOL to drive. And for someone looking in, it was way too nice of a car for a young boy in a dirty hoodie and jean jacket to have.
"Hey! Mister! Wait up," a voice called from behind him. Brian turned around confused, not sure if the voice was directed toward him.
But it was. The voice belonged to the red haired woman who checked him out. She was hurrying after him in her uniform, her bun partially falling out in the process. He furrowed his brows as he looked at her, keys in hand, just about to unlock the car door and continue his journey onward.
"You forgot your wallet," the woman said in a breath, winded by the sprint.
Brian grabbed the wallet. And it was a moment too late for him to realize he doesn't even have a wallet. An electric shock jolted throughout his body, making his knees buckle beneath him. He didn't even feel the rough ground of the pavement as he passed out.
----
Memory
His mother laid in a hospital bed. Each of her breaths were strained and she barely looked alive. She had lung cancer. The doctors tried to reassure the family, but even Brian knew deep down that she was beyond repair. They noticed it too late. There wouldn't be enough medicine that could fix this now.
Her hair had long fallen out. There was now only a few fuzzy patches left. Brian remembered when her beautiful dark hair cascaded down her back like a drape. He remembered trying to braid it as they sat on the couch watching a TV show that didn't even matter at the time.
But now Brian, 12, sat next to his mother's hospital bed, desperately trying to reassure himself that everything will be fine. He held her hand tightly, but she could barely even grasp back. It felt like holding a hand that was already dead.
His mother shifted in her bed and opened her eye lids. Brian instantly tensed up and squeezed her hand tighter.
"Brian," his mom said in a hoarse whisper. Tears formed in the creases of his eyes. He couldn't held himself. Every time she spoke, he knew he was losing her.
"Yeah, Mom?" he responded, his voice breaking.
"I need you to do something for me," she could barely get the words out above a whisper.
Brian nodded. "Anything."
"I need you to protect your dad. He's already stressed as it is and I don't need you losing him too, okay? I also need you to protect others. You know I was always bullied as a kid. I need you to stand up, got it?" Brian was impressed that she was able to say so much.
"Always, Mom, always."
His mother fell back asleep.
And a couple hours later her heart monitor when flat.
