#ialmostcriedwhilewritingthis

Mac closed the door behind him. For a moment he was just staring into the darkness of his house. He closed his eyes and tried to get the overwhelming feeling out of his head. He tried to keep his breathing steady and fought against the lump that formed in his throat... he rubbed his hand over his face. An image flashed in front of his eyes. The way his dad looked at him before he left the room. It was the last time he saw him. For ever. His chest tightened. He couldnt hold it back anymore. Tears started welling up in his eyes. A chocked sob escaped his lips. He glided down the door. He couldnt hold it back anymore... sobbing and trembling he half sat half laid there, not able to stop the tears that streamed down his face, as his pain of many years finally escaped the mind of its owner who held it back for so many years, hiding it so no one could see it. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't see. He couldn't think of anything else than the pain in his aching heart. He had only cried like this once before in his life... that was when his Mother had died. Now the memories crashed into him like a trainwreck. He could see himself as a five year old at her funeral at the graveyard. Around him crying people. It was at this moment when he first realised what death meant. That it was something you could't change... something not reversible. Something that caused pain to the ones left behind. And this pain would never fully go away. He still missed his mom. A lot. And now also his dad. People always say hope dies last. But hope died when his father did. Hope to catch up for all those missing years, hope for the lost memories. Hope to build at least something like a stable father-son relationship... Now all the hope was gone. And that was what caused him the most pain. The fact that he wasn't able to fix it. He had been in a lot of pain in his life, but nothing could compare to what he was feeling right now. He tried to sit up, leaned against the door, still shaking, quiet whimpers escaped his mouth. The crying exhausted him. He wished he could stop his trembling fingers and the burning feeling in his chest but he couldn't. He slowly exhaled and tried to get up, slowly with shaky legs he walked up to the teracce. He needed some air. He buried his nails in the wood of the Railing. It hurt. But not as much as the aching pain in his heart. Something came back to his mind. When he had heard the explosion and his brain had registered that his dad was dead, he thought about, what if one day it would be him? The one staying to finish the job, the one scarificing his life to save the others? What would his death do to his family? He didn't want to think about it. He felt guilty that he probably one day would cause his family so much pain. He swallowed down the upcoming lump that formed again in his throat. The next weeks were going to be hard, really hard. He found out some things on this day... And the fact that he had a living aunt on the "bad side" wouldnt make it better... He squeezed his eyes shut, as the tears started again. An image flashed in front of his eyes. The last thing his Dad had told him. "I can't fix this. But YOU can!" Mac opened his eyes again, staring at the nightskyline of L.A. "i can fix this" he whispered in the dark not trusting his voice. He looked down at his hands that finally had stopped shaking. "I can fix" this he said again, louder, steadier this time. His facial expression shifted to a little smile. He looked up at the stars in the nightsky"I WILL fix this!"