Keemun

"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life." - Richard Bach

We were lying in the bed later that night trying to get a few hours of shuteye before our planned drive the next day morning, when Dylan turned to look at me. I turned to face him as well, resting my face on the palms of my hands. Tenderly he pushed the stubborn curls from my face, brushing his fingers down my face. My breath caught in my throat as his eyes stared intently into mine, swirling with a mixture of emotions.

"Don't move." He whispered, his breath fanning across my face. The bed sheet ruffled as he moved his body closer to mine. My breathing became heavy, but I didn't dare move a muscle as he rested his forehead against mine, palm splayed across my cheek. Our fastening breaths matched, as we gazed into each other's eyes. His eyes showed a myriad of conflicting emotions as he inched forward. My eyes fluttered closed as he placed his soft lips on mine, the tension finally ceasing once the contact was made. He began kissing me gently, with the utmost care as if I were glass and could break under his touch.

He was pulling away when my heart kicked in and kissed him back. I wasn't a stranger to intimacy, but with Dylan I felt like I had forgotten how to breathe let alone kiss. In that moment, I broke down my walls and finally let him in. Donna's words echoed in my mind all day. Just let go.

As I kissed Dylan I finally... Let go. My body relaxed into his warm, inviting arms. His flat hand trailed down my back to the lower end of my spine, applying just the slightest of pressures to my skin. The kiss ended too quickly for my liking, but I tried not to show my disappointment as Dylan gave me a slow smile that had my stomach flip. "You look tired. We should probably sleep." I nodded, snuggling into the crook of his arm and closed my eyes, not before I felt him kiss the top of my head and close his arms around my body.

I woke up with sweat dripping down my face and silent tears staining my cheeks. My chest was heaving as if I had run a marathon and my mouth was dry. "Elise, calm down. It was just a dream. It was just dream. You're okay. I got you, I'm here for you. You're safe now." Dylan's strong, calming voice sounded through the haze of my nightmare. The ringing in my ears was subsiding as he continued to console my frazzled heart. I looked at him through tear filled eyes, ashamed that I was haunted by my memories.

"Whatever your dream was, you're safe now. This is where we are now," he swept his hand across the room. "I don't need to know your dream to know it was a memory, a bad one at that. But that's just it. It's a memory now because right now, right here is all that matters. You need to learn how to let go of the past." He stroked my arm, as he rested his chin on my head while I listened to his steady heartbeat. He hugged me tightly; rocking us back and forth till the gentle movement lulled me back into an empty sleep.

Morning came around too quickly, and we were already on the road immediately after breakfast. After the previous night's vulnerability I felt braver to face my feelings. I glanced at Dylan's hand resting on the gear shifter and my own pair placed on my legs. I reached over and threaded my fingers through his and enclosed his hand in mine. Briefly, he looked my way and smiled, squeezing my hand as a sign of reassurance.

In just over a week, my world as I knew it had changed ever so slightly. It's like the earth had moved on its axis and I was displaced. All these emotions and feelings I was experiencing was both new and yet somewhat familiar. Deep down I had locked away these memories that once made me feel. Now I only felt numbness, the only thing I could feel after the pain had gone. It was the only thing that made sense to my fragile heart.

I stared out to the highway, watching my surroundings change the further away we travelled from our last stopover. I don't know when I dozed off but when I opened my eyes again we were at a gas station. "Here's some god awful tea, and a bag of chips. There wasn't much choice there." Dylan looked at me apologetically as he handed me the Styrofoam and the chips. "I imagined you were kind of craving your tea fix since it's been a while." I nodded thankfully.

Don't you get tired of driving?

"No not at all. I love driving. The feeling of gliding down the practically empty highways is quite a liberating feeling." He smiled.

May I have a turn at driving? I typed, hesitating before showing him the message.

"Of course! It's a straight road from here for at least two or three hours. Can you manage it till the next service station?" He asked getting out the car. I nodded as he handed me the keys. I slid into the driver's seat placing my hands on the steering wheel, relishing the feel of the stitching of the leather under my fingertips. It had been a while since I drove a car but I never forgot. Back when I first gotten my license I used it as an escape, my short-lived freedom.

Eventually, when everything started to lose colour, the use of the car became redundant and instead became a haven for dust and depression. The world around me started to lose meaning as the light that kept me innocent slowly flickered to its death. Dylan came along like a wildfire and began colouring in the black and white, injecting the rainbow back into my life. He was restoring my hollow soul with love and care.

I adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting the car, easing it out on to the road. When I saw Dylan dozing off, I felt a pang of guilt. He never indicated his weariness, hiding his feelings behind that smile even if it felt genuine. I relaxed in my seat, enjoying the smooth ride when I heard a quiet rattling noise. Under the steering wheel sat an orange bottle, squeezed between the plastic. Glancing at Dylan I wiggled it free.

Prozac. Why was Dylan on antidepressant drugs? I realised I knew nothing about the boy sleeping beside me and by the looks of the pills in my hand there was more to him than meets the eye. He was damaged, just like me and I was determined to find out why.

I stuffed the pills back where I found them and turned on the radio to fill the silence with some soothing jazz. Music used to fill me with joy, take me away from this world. I would get lost in the lyrics, feel the strum of the guitar on my heart, and allow myself to be someone not from this world. When my world became ugly the words became taunts, the melodies did nothing to fill my empty soul and the beauty was lost. The world as I knew it became unfamiliar and scary, daunting even. For so long I had lived in the dark, made it my friend. I allowed myself to be completely consumed by this ugly beast, opening the gates to my most vulnerable parts, living with it inside me. How, in so little days, had Dylan showed me that there is more beyond the suffocating blackness. He was showing me that I can be free of my shackles.

"Morning," Dylan's husky voice sounded. My eyes flicked to his as he yawned. "Sorry." He laughed.

"Do you want me to take over? You've been driving for a long time now." I just shook my head. "Okay, well at least pull over the next service station, I'm starving. I'm sure you are too." I sighed and focused back on the road.

"You've changed." He mentioned. I frowned at him. "In a good way. There's something more lighter about the way you look. The way your face settles when you think I'm not looking. Underneath all that pain, there's a girl who's bigger than life, who is not afraid. I want to show you that you can be that girl. I want you to see that's there's more to life then the sadness you feel right now. If I could take away all your pain right now, I would."

I could just look at him with sad eyes. With the next service station coming up ahead, I pulled in and parked the car. "Stay here, I'll get the food."

I can come and help you know. I typed. Plus I need to stretch my legs.

"Okay then." He smiled, helping me out the car. Our hands touched and my heart skipped a beat. I thought I would never feel again. My heart had become numb to emotion and only beat to torture me with this existence.

Our food came quickly, which we decided to eat on the way instead of at the restaurant. I quietly sipped on my cup of tea, leaning back in my seat as Dylan picked at his fries. The journey felt long, with the stale silence between us, our last conversation lingering in the space between our bodies. Sighing, I placed my empty cup into our makeshift trashcan and pulled out my notebook from my backpack lying on the backseat. Since our first meeting, I hadn't felt the need to writing anything down. For the first time, I felt like I had someone who truly understood me. Someone who I didn't need to hide myself from.

I can't make sense of these feelings I'm having when I'm around Dylan. It's like I've started to live again. And yet, I know it's wrong. It's wrong to be happy, it's so wrong when she's not here. I don't deserve to be happy. Not when it was my fault. Why has my heart started to beat for another, when it died a long time ago? How does Dylan have the power to resurrect my damaged soul?

"We're here." He announced, causing me to snap my notebook shut and look up to see a modest mansion, with a colourful front yard upon which little kids roamed freely. Above the doorway hung a sign, Gillian Gilroy's Orphanage

"You coming?" Dylan asked, knocking on my window. I nodded, stuffing my notebook back into my bag and hopping out the car. The kids who were playing outside noticed me and Dylan, and ran to greet us at the front. They must have only been around five or six, not old enough to have experienced pain, with faces full of joy and boundless amount of energy. To anyone else, a mass of toddlers running towards you would have been intimidating and at first it was, but when they hugged our legs and giggled, the fear just melted away. I kneeled down to their heights to get a better look at their innocent, happy faces. They looked fearless, ready to face the world with their makeshift capes and wands. When was the last time I had no inhibitions like them? When was the last time I lived fearlessly?

"Kids! Snack time!" A young woman called from the entrance. Immediately the clan ran through the house eager to refuel before they embarked on another mission. "Hi, how can I help you two?" The woman asked as we approached her.

"We want to help out for the day." Dylan said.

"Oh, that's nice. We don't get many volunteers around here so we're always welcoming the help when it does come along. I just need you to fill in a few forms before you can interact with the kids, but from the looks of it, they seem to like the pair of you." She laughed. "I'm Natasha by the way. I'm Gillian's right hand man, or woman should I say. The two of us run this orphanage."

Ask her why they started this orphanage. I typed to Dylan.

"We started this because we realised there were too many kids being left out on the streets to fend for themselves. At least here they can have a real future ahead of them and they don't have to grow up alone." She smiled when she noticed my lack of verbal communication. "Most of these children have been with us since they were born, and over the years we have had many successful adoptions where the kids are living in safe, loving environments. We take pride that each child who passes through our orphanage will have the best outcome we can provide." She explained as we wandering through the house. Each room we passed was brightly painted, filled with toys and books for all ages. The children and the 'parents' both expelled a sunny disposition throughout the hallways.

"We're a family. We may not be from the same mother and father, but here family doesn't mean blood. Every child here is part of a larger family, one with more meaning. In this orphanage, we help each other out. The older kids act like extensions of our mothering system. Since we're heavily understaffed the older kids who can't get adopted act as siblings for the younger ones. It's not the best system but it works. We're all very close knit." I could definitely see that. All the components of the orphanage worked so well together, and yet it didn't seem mechanical in any way.

We joined the kids, both older and younger, in the dining room where they were munching on an assortment of snacks. A young girl, around nine years of age, sitting in the furthest corner caught my eye. Her curly flaxen hair, trailed down her pink pinafore as she sat quietly, sipping from her cup of juice. Distractedly, I strode over to her. I took the empty chair beside her, grabbing a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table. She looked at me curiously.

Hi. I signed with my hands.

Hello. She replied.

I'm Elise.

My name is Emma. How did you know I can't hear?

Because you weren't speaking to the kids next to you.

Some of them know how to sign. But I didn't feel like talking today.

Do you like it here?

Yeah I do. They take care of me really well. They're my family now. Miss Gillian is the best mom any girl can ask for. We help each other out. I have an older brother called Gregory. He's not my real brother, but he's my brother in the sibling system. He's sitting over there. She pointed to a boy in the midst of a conversation with another kid around the same age as him. He's 16. And I love him even though we don't have the same mom. She signed proudly.

I'm happy for you.

You're not happy. She signed.

I am.

I can see it in your eyes. The sadness. I've accepted that these people are my family now. My real parents might have left me but that doesn't mean that these other kids like me can't be my family too. I'm really happy now, you can be too. That boy, I think he likes you. I think he makes you happy. He can be your family. I looked at Dylan laughing and smiling with the children around him. He looked completely at home as he told them stories, bonding with even the oldest of kids. She was right. The kids, all of them, were happy. It was almost like they had forgotten that they had ever been abandoned.

How easy it was for kids so young to just forget the bad. They looked for the good in everything, so unlike me. Their innocence and naivety, their wonder and curiosity were what helped them to be happy in even the darkest of moments. However, the most beautiful thing that I had seen in that orphanage was the strength family had with repairing the hurt these children had endured. Through Emma's eyes, I could see how much love they had for each other; the fact that they weren't related didn't matter to them.

To the children who didn't have a traditional family, their surrogate one had become everything so they gave all the love they had to offer to each other. They fixed each other's hearts. That, to me was a wonder in itself.