"Hey! Run right now! You have to go and see your father! I know... we know what's going on, idiot! Go!"

These five, known as the school's first five prisoners, tried their best to cover me up just to have me go to my father... to the hospital.

As I ran towards behind the classroom, once I've reached the 20-meter wall, I searched for a door to break down. Now that I found a way to escape, I ran hastily, breaking the door that had a lock on it.

After I ran through it, I fell down to the ground and held my arm because of the too much force I used to break the door.

The bodyguards knew what happened and they took action right away.

"Family is the first priority! Go!"

Before I knew it, those four made their first strategy through Kenneth's guidance. They faced the bodyguards bare-handed, while the guards were armed.

I then took my own way up to the back gate to search if there were guards watching me. When I finally made it outside, I then hopped into the taxi that was waiting outside the school. The guards couldn't get a hand of me since I rushed the taxi driver.

The school's a huge institution but it's so easy to find an escape outside. The guards are too spoiled that they even forget to lock and apply the censor to the gates.

• • • • •

"Father! Father!"

As I trembled, opening room 214's door, where they put my father to get some tests, the pain on my mother's face was the first thing I had seen. She held my father's hand as tight as it's the first time I'd seen her like this.

On the other hand, my father on the bed with that life support he has on didn't move at all. With the unusual and breathtaking beeping sound of the life support machine, I realized that I'm already too late.

"S-Son..." following my mother's call was an unending sob. "Y-Your father's gone, son... your father's gone!"

I feel like the world has betrayed me again.

For a brief minute, my brain stutters, and my eyes take in more light than I anticipated. Every part of me comes to a halt while my thoughts catch up. After a chilly wash, I emerge from the shadows, experiencing a new warmth to the day. "It'll be okay, Ma," I said, placing one hand on my mother's shoulder.

The scene was unbelievable, almost shocking. My mind was thrown into disarray, unable to grasp or absorb the information being delivered to it by my eyes. I averted my gaze, then returned to see whether it was still there, my father's death, and his not moving body. That's what it was. Then my training kicked in, I was prepared to handle this type of situation.

Yet I wasn't able to say goodbye to him. I didn't even have the chance to apologize to him. I am such an idiot person. This world is a hungry place. Even lives it will take it.

"What's wrong? Why was he not able to wait for me? Why!? Why!? Where were you!?" I screamed to the workers who kept their mouths shut. "You don't have any idea what have you done!"

"S-Sir, please calm down."

"How will I be able to calm down, huh? Do you want me to eat pills? Can't you see what's happening here? My father just died! He died!"

Anger is something I channel into my passions, using it as rocket fuel to make the world a better place. When I have lashed out or lost control, I apologize and learn from the experience - how to become more like my father, who endured so much while remaining calm and nice to everybody. Oh, how good were those days.

"Calm down, son," my mother cried as much as she wanted while I am here, standing and blaming the workers when it's not their mistake.

Sadness is a painful cleanser. It is an opportunity to detox and review what is helpful and what is hurting, an opportunity to make new choices and educate people of my limits, needs, and weaknesses.

There are moments when my emotions seem damaged, and much like a physical bruise, they need time to emerge and fully reveal themselves. However, at this period, I have the opportunity to lessen, decrease, and make them more bearable.

So... I pull myself out the door for some endorphin-boosting exercise, no matter how difficult it is. It's a type of self-medication, I suppose, but there are worse options. I suppose it's a healthy coping mechanism.

The rage in my eyes revealed the fearful kid within, the youngster who had been trained to fight while being deprived of the affection he sought. I could sense the sorrow beneath it and my soul sinking in this façade I'd created to fit a world of apathy. But I can't and won't resist it since it's too difficult for me. I can only offer myself a blank, allowing myself to shadow the box till I need sunshine.

"I despise you and wish you the best of luck in the future. I saw it all through your eyes, how you got into those mindsets, how you felt enough callousness and coldness to harm me the way you did. I can picture myself in your shoes, tossing me overboard and watching me drown. I'm not sure whether that's forgiveness, but it's my last destination in the tale of what we once were. The road ahead demands my mission, responsibility, experiences, difficulties, delights, and sufferings. It was always my route and never yours. All it took was a fork in the road to reveal that," these must be the words my father is saying right now.

Does he despise me?

I've known my father well. He won't spite those words on me.

"It is simpler to hate than it is to accept our loss, Zeus. It's simpler to chase diversions than it is to see the pure flame we once had a turn to ash. I chose to travel through this sadness with love intact, knowing that on the other side comes our redemption, real forgiveness. All paths will head forward, never backward, and will branch out into the future. None can be seen more than one step at a time. Love is the only guidepost, the only road back home."

Those must be the words he'd say to me, right?

My biggest asset, my emotional warmth, is not a weakness... It's on the ground floor. It is the foundation of who I am, the person I was born to be. I'm sensitive, vulnerable, and I wear my heart on my sleeve for everybody to see... and it requires courage to do so...

For a long time, I felt you made me feel a particular way. Whenever I was unhappy, lonely, or annoyed, I blamed you. But why are you here? Why not another person? I think it's because you're the one I love the most, father, the one who makes me feel the most cherished. Was I upset because you couldn't take my suffering away? That you couldn't cure me with simple words and loving eyes? Maybe.

But that isn't right. I want to treat you the way you deserve... with the same tenderness and compassion that you have shown me So I'm learning to walk with stronger legs and iron boots. My emotions continue to hit me like a ton of bricks, and the anguish I feel is palpable, but I know it's all in my head. I've learned to keep walking anyway, to behave as if they're not even there... and they won't be for long.

At such a young age, why does he have to say goodbye first?