First described by Walter Bradford Cannon, the fight-or-flight theory is a reaction that happens in response to when the mind recognizes a harmful event or threat to survival.

It's a defence reaction.

The term itself "fight-or-flight" depicts the choices our ancient ancestors had to make. Either they fought, or they fled.

Either we fight, or we flee.

Scientifically speaking, in response to the stress that causes "fight-or-flight", a sudden release of hormones activates our body's sympathetic nervous system which then stimulates adrenal glands. They then release catecholamines such as adrenaline and noradrenaline.

Every situation is different so there is no right answer to "fight-or-flight". Sometimes it's better to stay and face the problem, other times it's easier to just run away from it.

And that's what I did.

That's how I found myself in Seattle, Washington. Running away was easier than staying to face my problem.

Plural.

Problems.

I definitely had more than one.

Maybe my problem was that I kept running and running so the problems just kept mounting up. I was good at it though, the whole running away part. I had been doing that my entire life.

It seemed like with running, you were always in control. In control of where you'd go next. That's what I told myself anyway, but I knew it wasn't true.

You are never in as much control as it may seem.

"One bus ticket to Olympic Sculpture Park please," I said and fumbled with my backpack as I tried to get out the money needed to pay for the ticket, "Or the bus that can get me closest to it."

I was worried the man behind the glass would be suspicious of me but he didn't even bat an eye as he took my money in exchange for the flimsy slip of paper.

"Bus 24 should be here in about five minutes," He told me and pointed over to a pole, "It should come right over there."

I quickly thanked him before hurrying off to the bus stop where there were already a few people gathered around, waiting. I kept my eyes trained on the ground, wanting to avoid eye contact at all costs. Even as a young child I was told I had very expressive eyes and that seemed to unfortunately always work to my disadvantage.

It wasn't long before Bus 24 arrived and I scurried on, making sure I never looked anyone in the eyes in the process. I handed the bus driver my ticket and hurried to the back of the bus.

With my backpack settled on my lap, I turned my gaze to focus on the scenery on the other side of the window. It was a rather gloomy day, looking like it was going to rain at any moment. It wasn't raining now but with the dark and angry clouds, I wouldn't be surprised if it started raining now.

At this moment, I felt oddly calm. Right now, my mind was telling me that it was working. That I had run far ahead of my problems and that they were still trailing behind me.

That everything was under control.

I knew how the deception of mind worked though, far too well. Deep down, I knew none of that was true and as dangerous as it was, I was giving in a little bit to my mind. Before I could be pulled in too far though, I quickly snapped myself out of it.

I had to be on guard at all times.

Taking a deep breath, I tore my eyes away from the window to glance around the bus. Besides me and the driver, there was also a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties and an elderly man on the bus. There was also a man with a little kid who seemed to be his son and was probably around five or six.

I noticed that all of them were sitting on the right side of the bus, unlike me, and it oddly reminded me of how alone I was now. The boy saw that I was staring and offered me a wide smile.

To my surprise, I smiled back. It wasn't a forced smile either, which was something I had been doing quite often lately.

Usually, I wouldn't do such a thing, but maybe it was how the little kid reminded me of Stella in how he smiled at me.

Sweet and gentle Stella.

The boy's hair was tousled and he wore a bright orange shirt and track shorts. He had two of those Hotwheels cars you could sometimes get at grocery stores and was rolling them around on the seats.

He probably didn't care that he had absolutely no control over things. He didn't need to have complete control.

It sounds like I'm a controlling person but I'm really not. It's complicated because in a way, I am a controlling person but in many ways, I'm not. I learned the hard way that I always had to be in control, mostly of myself, though I wish I had control over other things.

I wished for a lot of things.

I wished my mother which surprised me greatly since I had such hatred towards her. Maybe deep down, I loved her and deep down she loved me, or maybe that's just what I kept telling myself. Maybe it was all mind over matter.

Though I wasn't sure if I loved my mother, I was sure I loved Stella. Everyone loved Stella, how could you not? Even the most heartless of the heartless wouldn't be able to hate Stella. Even my mother loved Stella. Maybe she didn't know it, but I did. I saw the love in her eyes when she looked at Stella, something she never had with me. That's how lovable Stella was.

The bus was steadily rolling down the streets of Seattle now. For a moment, I wondered how I got here. Why I was even here, on this bus, heading to a park I only learned of a few hours ago.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of pure fear ripple through my body, sending a shiver down my spine. It was in that second everything I should be worried about crossed my mind before it was quickly shut out, my running mind refusing to think about them. I hugged my backpack closer to my body and returned my eyes back outside the window.

There was no noise besides the occasional car sounds coming from the little boy playing with his Hotwheels and the sound of real cars zooming by. I was usually one to enjoy silence but the silence was also scary at times. It is then you are left with your mind and your mind isn't always a friendly thing.

I was utterly alone now, and in some way, that was reassuring to me. At the same time though, the thought was terrifying. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on something else. Not the solitude I was now in. Not the strong urge in the pit of my stomach screaming at me to satisfy the monster inside me.

The monster wasn't in me. I was the monster. I had become the monster that was now the sole focus of my world.

That wasn't completely true.

If the monster was my sole focus, I wouldn't be on this bus. There was still that tiny sliver of Summer Brown that had gotten me here.

Or maybe it was the monster that got me on this bus right now because Summer wouldn't have even gotten me to Seattle. Or maybe she would have.

In the short moments that I had my eyes closed, I was quickly reminded about how nothing is in your control. My eyes flew open to the sound of a deafening crash followed by an ear-splitting scream and in a quick flash, I thought two cars had crashed outside the bus.

It was in that quick flash that I also saw the two seats in front of me start to lean to the right and I realized, much to my horror, that it wasn't just the two seats, but the whole bus that was leaning.

A cry of fear came flying out my mouth as the bus tipped side-ways, throwing me out of my seat before I was knocked unconscious.

The last thing I saw was the petrified face of the little boy who had smiled at me just as his tiny body smashed into one of the bus windows.

Nothing is in your control.