Putting the Pieces Together part I

Liam

Our weekend in Michigan was great. With no TV or internet we explored the woods, went swimming in the lake, skipped stones and built awesome fires at night. His focus was on me and we talked about all kinds of stuff and both made promises we knew we could never keep, but promised we would try. We felt refreshed and like we were starting a new chapter. A better chapter.

But not long after we were back, life seemed to take on some kind of edge. I can't put it into words because there aren't any for what I was feeling—if I was feeling anything at all. But my gut says that I was. I know work was intense, something was going on. The hours were always long, but now, even when Dad was home, it's like his mind was still embroiled elsewhere. I knew he was trying to fight it—but he was losing, and losing badly. It was like the fire that had always kept him alive seemed to be consuming him.

It felt like he was both pushing me away and pulling me close. But I think he was only pushing Hailey away. It seemed like wherever she was, he wasn't. I began to feel bad for her. I wondered if something had happened at work, because he was never home to have any issues here. He would get up early and have breakfast with me before he left. But he was always gone before Hailey woke up. He would come home late but would meet me after school and give me a ride home or be sure to take time out for my soccer games. But then he would disappear again.

He made me join two after-school programs that kept me there until 4:30 or 5:00 depending on what the group was doing. On Monday I have Creative Writing and on Thursday I have Book Club. Wednesday is soccer practice and Saturday I have games. Every-other Friday is my drum lesson. But he or sometimes Hailey are there to take me. I was so confused. I felt as if we couldn't get into any rhythm, but I think that was the point. He didn't want anyone in sync with him.

Something is different, but I have no idea what it is But I think what scared me the most was Hailey. She could see the same things I did, proving my gut was right. She tried to smile her way through it, but she too, was losing, and losing badly. What was my father doing, and why was he doing it?

One night just a few days ago, he looked distant. Like any light left in his eyes was disappearing. He smiled at me, told me it had just been a difficult day, but I knew it had been more than that. Then he picked me up after school, and he wasn't wearing his badge or gun. He almost always wore them, especially in the middle of the day. He looked naked without them. They had always been the constant in my life; Dad equaled badge and gun. Rarely was there a time when one was without the other.

His face was serious when he suggested a walk, we rarely, if ever did that. He was driving Hailey's vehicle, which was also weird. He parked it on a residential street and climbed out, stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for me to join him. My mind was frantic, wondering what he was going to say and trying to be grateful in the fact that at least I might have an idea soon about what was going on in our lives. We walked quietly, keeping our thoughts to ourselves when we came across a playground a few blocks up that had a merry-go-round. I smiled and hopped on, momentarily forgetting the discord and dissension that had wrapped up our little family. The brightly colored disc used to be my favorite when I was younger. I sat down and stuck my leg out, pushing myself in a circle. Life so often felt like a redundant circle, around and around we go. Everything spinning out of control. Dad nodded his head for me to hang on and began to spin me faster and faster. I remembered him doing this a few times when I was a little kid. Spinning me so fast as I giggled uncontrollably, unsure if it was fear or fun that created the laughter. I still didn't know. But a smile had crept to my lips.

Finally, as I hit top speed he stepped back and watched me swirl around and eventually slow down to a stop. I tried to find my balance, but as I got off I realized I was still really wobbly and began to walk sideways. He reached out and pulled me towards him, promising me that I was safe. He held me tightly and that's when I knew something was very wrong.

Finally I stepped back and looked at him. His eyes were intense, somehow both distant and present, the blue somehow bluer. His face was serious. Like I was in big trouble, but I couldn't think of anything that I had done recently that would require going for a walk and such a serious discussion. Despite feeling innocent, my body began to feel like it was on a roller coaster, with waves of uncertainty washing over me. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I was officially terrified.

Ain't no Devil by Andrea Wasse

Jay

A Drink Before the War by Sinead O'Connor

I didn't know how to start this conversation. This kid had been through nearly everything with me, the good, the bad, the really ugly. He had nursed me through two bullet wounds and a fear that he had lost me for during one of them. He was always waiting for me every night and was there with me every morning. He deserved to have much better life, a much better father. And I wanted to do anything I could to deliver that, but I was suffocating here in Chicago and just couldn't stay any longer.

He finally broke the silence. "Where's your badge? And gun? Why are you driving Hailey's car?" He peppered me with questions, his eyes uncertain, his voice fevered.

I swallowed hard as we made our way to a nearby picnic table. I nodded for him to sit down and he did. I sat next to him, both of us turned to the side, facing each other. "We've had a lot of tough cases in my career, but recently they've been even harder." I began still unsure of how I was going to explain all of this. I hadn't slept well since my recent altercation in the warehouse; feeling the blood slicked knife in my hand and the weight of my victim on top of me whenever I tried to close my eyes.

"Like the FBI one?" He asked.

"Yes, like that one." I agreed, recalling how Walker North had brought my son into the mix and how desperate and angry it had made me. Why that hadn't been my final straw I'll never know.

"Is that why you've been working so much?"

I smiled, but it was weak and meaningless. I had been absent because I had, for whatever reason, flung myself into Voight's orbit. The way he handled everything, believing his actions and therefore mine were for the greater good. It was beginning to feel right—all his actions and decisions. It hadn't been that long ago when I questioned nearly everything he did, now in my eyes he could do no wrong. I have no idea why, what changed, but change it had.

Trouble had always followed Voight and one day it would consume him. And if I was nearby it would take me as well. Each year the stakes got higher and it would be beyond unfair for my son to pay the price of our misdeeds.

That along with the feeling that I was a precipice of disaster. All the trauma I've endured, barely escaping time and time again. I had always felt that I had been a good cop, even a great cop so that was where I placed my efforts. In turn I had always questioned my parenting skills and happily turned much of the responsibilities over to a babysitter. But now Liam was too old for me to rely on others. I felt as if I was on borrowed time on this job and therefore Liam was on borrowed time as well, with an uncertain fate ahead of him. I had sacrificed one for the other and now it was time to sacrifice the other for the one.

Last week, I had come to a scene where one fifteen year-old shot another and then turned the gun on himself. Onlookers blamed the lack of parenting these days and I realized I was very much a lacking parent. My son deserved more of me. I often thought that if I died, Will would do a great job. That emotion had once bled over to the point where Liam had picked up on it after overhearing a conversation not meant for his ears. But if Will raised him he would lose an uncle, as Will would then be relegated into the role of father and no longer the fun uncle. And as much as my brother loved Liam, nobody could love that kid as much as me. He had lost his mother, a wound that hadn't, and would probably never heal. I had to step up or get out of the way.

My hand involuntarily clenched as I felt myself stabbing that man, the man whose name I can't even remember, if I had even known it to begin with. I was fighting for my life. I could still feel his hands around my throat, squeezing. At one point I had even thought to just surrender to it. Let him take me. Only, I thought of Liam and the fact that I still had the will to live.

I should have never been there. But I had to protect Lenny. But I nearly died. But justice was served. But the truth was buried. But now I have one more thing to carry. Life was just one more but and there were too many to count and they were getting heavy. My PTSD had raised its ugly head, brought on by circumstances that I had brought on. How many times was I going to do this dance? How many times was I going to expose Liam to this uncertainty? He has faced it too many times already.

I wasn't even sure who I was anymore. I was sick of pretending to be okay when I was anything but. I had to get out, get away. It was taking more energy than I had left. There was no choice—leave or not only lose myself, but lose everything. There is a thin line between being a monster and being a hero.

"Dad, Dad. What do you have to tell me?" Liam asked, pulling me from my thoughts. I relaxed my hand and did my best to smile. I can tell his emotions are building up, he's getting shaky, a slight tremor in his voice. He knows whatever I have to say is going to be impactful and its scaring him. I'm scared too.

I clear my throat and do my best to keep my focus as I look him in the eye. "I don't have my badge, gun or the truck because I resigned from my job. Do you know what that means?" I ask him.

He looks at me, confusion in his eyes. "You quit?" I nod, confirming that he is correct. "But you said you could only ever be a policeman."

"I know."

"What about money?"

"I was offered another job. It's in Bolivia. Do you know where that is?"

"South America?" He questions, his voice rising.

"Yes. Drug interdiction. Stopping drugs and drug cartels. It's a job like being back in the military."

His eyes begin to water, and he turns his head away from me. He's squeezing his eyes closed in effort not to cry, but I can hear his breathing hitch and get erratic. He won't look back at me, but then I hear him burst open allowing everything he had been trying to hold back come forth. "You're going to leave me? How can you do that? You are going to leave me just like Mom did." He accuses as he finally looks at me. He only stops speaking because his sobs interrupt his words. A woman pushing a toddler on the swings looks my way with sympathy in her eyes.

"I can't go," he hiccups, briefly gaining some control of his emotions. "They won't let me, you won't take me."

"You're right, you can't go, I couldn't take you." I agree. "Which is why I didn't take the job. I had thought for a moment that maybe it would be good for you to be away from me; split time between Hailey and Will, but then I realized that the best place for you is with me and the best place for me is with you."

His sobs slow down as he looks at me. "This man who told me about the job in Bolivia, found something else." I explain. "It's a federal position. Something somewhat unique."

"I can go too?" He asks as he drags his forearm across is face in an attempt to dry his face, the relief already evident. He doesn't even bother to ask me where we're going.

"You go where I go. That's if you'll go with me?" I ask him with sincerity.

He reaches for me, places his trembling hands on either side of my face, like he did when he was young and had something very important to tell me. I see the scar on his hand from the time he put it through the glass after I had been shot. The emotion plunges through me. "Dad, I'll go with you. Always." He says, his voice quiet but firm, his eyes watery but focused. "Always." He repeats.

Haunted by Adonia

Incoming by Greg Felden

Liam

Dad dropped me off at the neighbors while he went to tell Hailey about his new job, along with the fact that he and I would be leaving in a couple of days. I couldn't believe that he had told me before mentioning it to her; that she hadn't even been a part of the conversation. He knew it was going to be difficult news and he didn't want me around for it. I felt terrible for her. I had no doubt she wouldn't leave her job here in Chicago, especially with no warning, and Dad knew that as well. She didn't deserve this and it really wasn't fair for Dad to put her through it. But there were things she didn't know and I felt it was my responsibility to tell her. So after Dad texted and told me he had left the apartment and for me to give Hailey a few minutes alone, I ignored him and went straight home.

"Hey Liam," she said as I came through the door, I could tell from her red rimmed eyes that she had been crying. She looked past me at the door, perhaps waiting for some kind of reprieve.

"He's not with me." I tell her as I look behind me to ensure I was alone.

"Oh okay. How are you?" She asked, her blue eyes liquid, just as mine were not that long ago. She was doing everything in her power to stay in control as her her body trembled with grief and a suddenly unknown future.

"I'm sorry. About what's happening," I elaborate. "What he's doing—well it's a dick move and you don't deserve it."

"Liam! You shouldn't talk like that. Especially about your father." She snaps, and despite his actions she remains loyal.

"Sorry, but it is and he knows it. But he can't help it. He gets these dark days, or that's what I call them anyway. I always remember them being a part of our lives. He's better since he got counseling, but it's always there—his history, his memories. Something happened recently to tip him over." She looked at me with an unreadable expression. "He didn't tell me of course, but I can feel it, see it." I think back to the time he was beating the crap out of guy who I think was named Shane. He beat up his wife and Dad stopped him. I walked in during the end, where the man was a bloody pulp and Dad just couldn't stop hitting him. I called out to him, he looked at me and his fist finally settled. But what if I hadn't been there? It made me wonder if something had recently happened like that, but I wasn't there to stop him.

"When I was little," I begin again, "he would cry out in his sleep and I would climb into bed with him. It's one of my first memories. I remember dragging my favorite blanket with me and I gave that up when I was four. Once I got in next to him he would quiet down and sleep better. I think he always believed I was the one having the bad dreams."

"I didn't know that," she said.

"Since he's been with you—well he's been pretty good at night; right?"

"Yeah. Mostly." She agrees.

"Something happened that opened up the scar on his soul. If he doesn't leave then it might split all the way open and he doesn't want that to happen. He loves you too much for that to happen. He can't stay here, he knows that. But he doesn't feel right about leaving you either; I can tell, even if he can't. He's focused on the future, because if he isn't, then he'll dwell on the past and he can't bear that. War is a constant in his life, even when it's just with himself."

"When did you get so smart?" She asked, as tears leaked down her face, despite her best effort.

"It started when I was four," I say with a weak smile. "He's an amazing man, who gave so much and lost a lot in Afghanistan, and even more here in Chicago, and he just has nothing left. So he has to go and see what pieces he can put back together, because if he doesn't, there won't be enough pieces left."

"Liam," she begins.

I put my hand up to stop her. "Please don't. Our need for one another is mutual. Once when I was young, not long before my mother left, I wasn't feeling well, or just having a major tantrum, I can't even recall anymore; I wouldn't calm down until I saw him, until he stopped what he was doing and came to me. I had just needed my dad. Once my mother left, well it cemented our need for one another.

"I'm going to be a teenager next year and that scares him. I'm growing up, becoming independent. You've seen it—the last year, having me go from after-school care to the library, to school groups now, all so I won't be alone. Because if I'm alone then I'm pulling away. I'm making it sound so dysfunctional, this mutual dependence, but he has always questioned himself as a father and he's running out of time to do it right. I think this is a stab at getting it right and doing better for himself."

"How did you put all that together?" She asks me.

"Therapy. I've had sessions. Plus, I found a couple of great books. And, oh, the internet. And it's just something I know. I need him to be safe. He knows that I need him to be safe. This move is his gift to me as much as it is to himself.

"War leaves an imprint on your soul, it is forever changed, no matter how many years go by, you can't go back to who you were before. I'm not sure if he is trying to, but he knows he can't stay where he is now."

Hailey

I stood there mesmerized by my stepson's words. He went from twelve to a twenty-three-year-old grad student doing his thesis on familial relationships. He had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into his conclusions. And I think he was right about all of it.

"I felt him pulling away. It started sometime during the summer. I didn't know what to do or say." I began.

"I know. He does that. But with me, I'm his responsibility, so he can't stay away for long." Liam says, his face matter of fact.

"He was all about the job, Voight, not telling me his plans, omitting his activities." I tell him before I realize that I need to shut up. Liam was twelve and didn't need to hear this.

"Voight. Sarge. He's always been Sarge to me. He has this pull and sometimes he sucks you in. I don't think he means to; it just happens." Liam says quietly.

"I think I know what you mean," I say trying to smile for his sake.

"I know something happened with the FBI and that might have started to smolder inside him. Then he tried to combat it by taking on the world. But the world hit back, and it hurt more than he could imagine."

"Dammit Liam. You know more than—"

"I stay quiet, but I'm always watching. I've made notes, pored over them, connected dots and practiced this speech since I learned we were leaving." He interrupts. "I know you often thought I was acting out and being a brat. I guess I was, but it was because I needed to bring him into the present. If he has to deal with me, then he is in my orbit, not Voight's, not the Intelligence Unit, not some fucked up memories from Afghanistan, but mine."

I wipe my eyes, totally amazed at this young man in front of me. I let the language go, because, well he is allowed to use the word today. He had been aware of so much and dealt with it all on his own. "Will you be okay?" I ask because I don't know what else to say.

"I will. We will. And you will. He told me it would be eight or nine months. The school year. But for your sake don't hold him to it." I try and hold back a sob and Liam's face softens. "He loves you. I have no doubt of that. But sometimes the battle is bigger than he believes it is. His job often gave him an outlet. Get the bad guys. That's what he always told me. But it's a liability as well. Even though the job has its flaws, it has been a crutch. Now he won't have it. I'm not sure what that is going to mean for him. Or for you. But please remember his love."

"He'll have this new job though," I point out.

"He will. And we'll see what he does with it. Or what it does with him. He believes he is doing the right thing, so there's that. But he was unfair to you. And me. I don't want to leave Chicago. This is my home. But I go where he goes. I don't want him to go to Bolivia and if I decide to stay here then that is exactly what he will do. I can't imagine the Canadian Cartel is in the same league as the South American contingency."

Again I am floored by Liam's understanding of things so much bigger than him. I guess every child survives what their parents hand down to them. I did by spending every day trying not to get hit. Liam never had to fight that battle, but his is just as big, and it would kill Jay to realize the extent of the struggle.

If You Care For Me by Evan Barlow

The following day I sit in the car and trying to rein in my emotions before driving away from the apartment that I shared much too briefly with Jay and Liam. I think back to when Jay came home just a day ago with the news that sent me reeling.

I stood there mute, wanting to say something, anything. But the words wouldn't come. My husband had just told me that he was leaving and it was an announcement not a conversation. Finally I found the words and I make my tongue work. "You didn't have to resign. You could have taken a leave of absence. Moved to a different unit. There were other options. Taking Liam halfway across the country? He just started school. Seventh grade is hard enough without being uprooted." I ramble, avoiding the one thing that has pierced me the most; that he is leaving me.

"I know it won't be easy for any of us. But if I stay here—I can't stay here. I just can't. I feel like I am caught in this loop and this is the only option that will get me out of it. I go to Bolivia and leave Liam with Will, or I go to upstate New York where we start over."

"Start over?" I ask. "That makes it sound permanent." I say, thinking I wasn't included in the we that he mentioned or was I, as I was being forced to start over all alone.

"It's not. It's just for eight months or so. The school year. But it's a new start. I need to refocus my priorities. Get myself right. I don't have much longer to become the father I had hoped to be. To be the husband that you deserve."

"I didn't know that you had gone so wrong?"

"Yes you did," he tells me. "You said it a few weeks ago, that this didn't feel like me or us, and you were right. You pointed out how to deal with Liam, the most basic of rules of parenting that I had never bothered to have the patience for. There's been a lot wrong for a long time."

"But leaving? I didn't mean," I begin losing my train of thought.

"This is the only way. I need an opportunity that will take me from all the confusion, the situations that we keep finding ourselves in. Roy Walton, Walker North, me stabbing and killing a man in a place I should have never been in. The lies swirling around us all over again. I can't keep doing it and pretend that I am the man that I want to be. I can't come home to my son and pretend that I am the man that he thinks I am. I'm being pulled into a vortex that I'm afraid I won't be able to get out of. It's now or never."

I nod, trying to understand. I'm asking myself if this was my fault. Was it him helping me with the Roy Walton case that tipped him over? Was that the gateway that led him down this path he desperately needed to get away from? Was it North using Liam as a pawn, that pushed Jay so far he couldn't come back. His child vulnerable, because of me? Because of Jay? A line drawn that had been crossed pushing Jay into a world he had wanted no part of. I can still see him standing there just days ago, knife in his bloody hand, in shock. I knew then that a piece of him was gone and never coming back. I think all of us were afraid, just as Liam had said, that he didn't have too many more pieces to lose. So maybe this was for the best. As he looked into my eyes and told me I was the love of his life, I believed him. And I could tell he believed it too. But in the end would that mean anything?

Jay

There's Something Dark Inside of Me by Dustin Kensrue

Don't follow by Shelby Merry

"Hey, it's Sarge," Liam says as we get to the door of the airport.

We both walk over to him, Liam lagging behind me. "I thought you weren't much for long goodbyes." I say.

"But I am up for a goodbye. Hey Liam, off on a big adventure with your dad?" Voight asks looking over at Liam.

"Yeah," Liam admits quietly as he looks towards Hank.

"I bet you'll have a great time. Can I have a goodbye hug?"

Liam gives a slight nod and moves over giving Sarge the old preteen side hug, causing Hank to look up with a smile cocked on his lips. I smile back. Liam is growing up a little bit each day.

"I need to talk to your dad for a minute. Can you wait over there," he asks pointing back towards the doors we had nearly gone through a minute before.

Liam mumbles okay and heads that way before Voight stops him. "Text me a couple of times a week so I know you're doing okay? Alright?" He asks again when Liam is silent. I'm not sure why he is suddenly so quiet and resistant.

"I will," Liam finally replies.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he states as he makes his way out of earshot.

"Not staying to say goodbye to anyone at the district?"

I shake my head as I look back at Liam, who is absorbed at looking off into the distance, his thumbs hooked into the straps on his backpack. "No. If I stay, then I risk staying, and I can't stay." Hank nods. "I know it's a crappy thing to do, but I feel like I don't have a choice." I say as I think to myself that it is a horrible thing to do and a terrible example for Liam, the people that he called Aunt and Uncle for years, didn't even rate an in-person 'see ya later'.

"A fellow soldier once told me that you can't beat every demon every time, and right now all my demons are ganging up on me. Look I know that not everything is black and white, but this job will provide more boundaries than I've been dealing with recently, or for a long time."

"Look, you can have any job you want in the department; with or without my help."

Inside I agree. I know that a lot of doors would be open for me. But that's not the point.

"I know it's been a rough year. But sometimes all the turmoil inside you is the only thing keeping you together." He points out as if it's a good thing.

"Yeah," I admit. "But it doesn't have to be that way. He deserves better than that," I explain as I look back at my son. I have a better chance of figuring out all the things that seem so blurry here. Better hours, more time with Liam. I can't pass it up. I have to try."

"Military or civilian position?"

"Civilian. Federal. Drug interdiction, smuggling from Canada as well as going over cold cases. New eyes from a big city cop with a lot of experience."

"Eight months?"

"Yes."

"So you'll be back then?"

"Probably not." Though I'm not sure why those words came out so easily. But then I guess I did know, but I just wasn't ready to admit it yet.

"Look, I know you don't want to me be like me and you don't have to." He tells me.

"No," I reply quickly. "No, I do want to be like you, and that's the problem." I say looking once again at Liam whose gaze is fixed on the parking area, anywhere but on us. "It's happening, I can't let it happen. This summer it was like I was watching someone else, like I didn't have a say in what I was doing. It's not your fault," I assure him. "This is all on me. I pulled away from Hailey, I wasn't the same with Liam."

"But you're leaving her behind now." He reminds me.

"I know. But we haven't given up. None of this is fair to her. But these past weeks, months, haven't been fair to her either. Right now this is for the best."

"If you're sure then," he says looking me in the eye.

"I am."

"Take good care of him," he says nodding towards Liam.

"I will." I promise him and mean it.

Memory is a monster. It just won't let you forget. We settle into our seats on the plane. The last-minute fares must have cost a fortune, but I wasn't paying so it was of little consequence to me. It felt nice to be so desperately wanted. There would be a house and vehicle waiting for us in Plattsburgh as well. We only packed clothes and a few special items, everything else we'll need will be provided for us.

I offer Liam the window seat, but he declines and seems content in the middle seat. A middle-aged woman fills out the row as she settles into the aisle seat. After a quiet greeting she puts in her earbuds and pulls out a novel. The plane begins its assent and I watch the skyline appear and then disappear behind us, and suddenly realize why Liam wanted no part of the window. It was hard to watch our home grow smaller and smaller. Other than my stint in the Army, Chicago had always been home, and Liam had known no other locale. How could I rip him from the city he loved? But I had to go, that I had never been more certain of. It was either take him or leave him behind and I didn't think I could survive leaving him. It felt clear to me that his emotion in the park showed me there was little choice in the matter. Neither of us would survive without the other.

I look over at him as he stares at his opened book, turned to the same page it was on five minutes ago. "It will never be the same, but maybe we can make whatever happens better." I tell him.

"We will," he assures me before he goes back to staring at the same page.

I wasn't sure if seeing Voight was a good or bad thing for Liam. He had seemed so guarded, detached, realizing there were so many that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to. Or perhaps it had just hit him that this was goodbye to everything and everyone he had ever known. Our small family had been officially disbanded and Will didn't even get the courtesy of a goodbye. We knew no one where we were going. Both an advantage and terrifying.

He finally put his book back in his backpack and then picked up his phone and began to scroll around briefly until he laid his head on my shoulder. Then his nervous energy began to surface. "Dad, what do you call a bee that comes from America?" he asked. "USB." He replied, before I could even hazard a guess.

"Dad, what did the buffalo say to his son at the school drop-off? Bison." He says, before rushing to the next one. "Dad, what do you get when a chicken lays an egg at the top of a hill? Eggrolls," he giggles. "Dad," he continues, "this is my step ladder, I never knew my real ladder." He says, then realizes this one hit wrong. His stepmother left behind as if she didn't rate enough for more than a momentary consideration. How does a twelve-year-old understand that? The message it sends is of quiet or not so quiet desperation that I'm sure he is becoming aware of with each passing minute.

I just knew that to have any chance, I couldn't stay. I thought I could handle it. The quiet lies we tell ourselves. The constant trauma from the job caused the PTSD to gurgle within me. The only way I was combating it was becoming the one thing I had always abhorred, and it took me way too long to realize that. And worse, it felt so good to be that person, doing those things. Being in charge, not caring what I had to do to get what I wanted. It was a road that would end and end badly as it often does with bullies. Maybe not soon, but it would happen eventually. Walker North had taught me that we were resilient, but not untouchable.

I suddenly realize that Liam has his face buried in my sleeve and it is wet with his tears.

The soundtrack songs are within the story.

To be continued...