I know it's not home.
But I need an escape.
So I'm flying away.
To a memory-free place.

Sean leaned back into the leather-covered foam of his plane seat, eyes lazily gazing out the windows. He swallowed thickly, sighing through his nose as he thought about what he was doing. He'd left Ireland. His home. Not forever. Maybe. But for now, he needed to get away. Everything reminded him of Maddie. Just five years...

He'd already arranged to crash at Mark's place, to which Mark was ecstatic about and had no problems with. He didn't quite understand why Sean was coming over, but he didn't question it.

The deep blue waves of the ocean were quite visible through the thin wisps of clouds as Jack let his head slide forward until it bumped against the window. He didn't quite care that it hurt like a bitch, he just lost himself in the rippling of the ocean far below. Blue on blue.

Before he knew it, darkness had all but consumed him, and he lost himself to dreams.

"Why Sean? Why did ya' push her...so high? Why didn't ya' stop? How stupid could ya' be!?" Pa screamed at me.

It was te' same dream again. Te' same...memory. I've had tis' one more often tan' enough. It's like a first player X-Box game. I can see my hands, and everyting' around me. But I can't see myself. Not even when I look in te' mirror. And I know why.

I broke it. Like when people say you're ugly and te' mirror broke because it couldn't stand te' sight of you. Yeah...kinda like tat'. Except I wasn't ugly. At least, not on te' outside. I was a monster. I killed my sister. I didn't recognise myself anymore. Just a murderer. I hated myself. I broke te' mirror. Punched it. Shattered it into a hundred fragments. Ten' drug tem' across my arms. My veins. Myself. My blood is probably still there, staining the wooden tiled floor.

Hey look, I'm replaying a memory witin' a memory. And it's one of t'ose' ones where ya' can feel everyt'ing t'at happens. Yeah, I felt it all. Again. Time ta' wake up.

Jack woke up in a cold sweat, brow creased and hands clammy. He closed his eyes as he attempted to steady his uneasy breathing. After a while he managed to calm down, and opened his eyes to look down at his trembling legs. He then lifted his left arm and rolled up the sleeve. Tracing his fain scars, he cringed with regret. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down as the flight attendant suddenly announced that they were landing.

Pulling out his phone, he typed a quick message into Twitter. For no particular reason except to himself, to let the reality of what he was doing sink in, he sent:

@Jack_Septic_Eye
Goodbye Ireland, I'll see you again, maybe. And hello LA!! I hope you still get snow occasionally.

It was winter when I lost you.
It was winter when I cried.
It was winter when we buried you.
It was snowing through the night.
I know because I slept outside.
Ma and Pa wouldn't let me in.
I don't blame them, I'm a murderer.
I've committed the biggest sin.
But the snow is beautiful still.
And it calms me when it hurts.
I hope where I go it snows.
It helps me feel less alone.