The fog shrouded the park. It was ten thirty and snow fell over the woodchips. A lone boy sat with a suitcase on a bench with tears falling like gentle rain down his freezing face.

“I have to do this,” he murmured to himself. “I need to do it for Dad!” He burst out a loud sob, but he stopped as he heard footsteps. He looked up and saw a figure standing with a quicksilver pea coat covering his torso and charcoal beanie hugging his head. The man’s brown hair was like a lion’s mane and it covered his back and forehead. The boy looked into his face innocently and realized he was no older than nineteen. The two eyed each other for a few moments until the standing teenager pulled out a tissue and handed it to the boy. The boy looked at it and back into the teenager’s face and saw concern in his olive green eyes. The teenager revealed a small smirk and nodded. The boy took the tissue and wiped his eyes and nose.

“You’ll freeze out here,” grumbled the teenager. His voice was grizzled and lacked emotion. He then took a seat next to the boy.

“I’m not gonna stay here long,” muttered the boy. “I’m gonna run away tonight.” The teenager looked at the boy with a concerned expression. The boy opened his suitcase and began explaining to the teenager what he had. The teenager watched the boy show him the mangled objects in his suitcase, which he knew would mot be sufficient enough to keep the boy alive for a week. During all of this though he saw a little life in the boy’s eyes. That comforted him greatly.

“I’ve got everything I need. Money, food, blankets, and my marbles.” The teenager’s eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.

“Marbles?” questioned the teenager.

“Yeah, my dad and I played marbles a lot when he was alive. He was a bank guard and died during a robbery though. He always kept his best marble it in his wallet, but when he died it went missing. The robbers probably stole it. My mom was sad for a while, but she wants to marry this new guy who I don’t like. He tries to play marbles with me, but it’s not the same! I want my dad back and that’s why I’m running away!” The teenager was dumbfounded. All this time his guilt was torturing him. All this time he had been depressed. All this time he wanted to take back his mistake, but what is his fate? He meets the son of the man who has caused him all this pain.

“This can’t be happening,” he thought to himself. “It’s him.” He swallowed loudly and began to speak.

“You know you really shouldn’t run aw-“ said the teenager until he stopped mid sentence. A van arrived at the park and a tall man slowly creeped towards the bench where the two were conversing. The park light shinned through the fog and the man was revealed. He was old and he had a distorted grin that frightened both of the boys. He stood about three meters in front of the bench and looked directly into the teenager’s eyes.

“Step aside from the boy,” spat out the old man. The teenager stood up and didn’t look away from the man’s eyes.

“You’ve gotta be crazy if you think I’m gonna let you hurt him,” said the teenager emotionlessly. He pulled his hand out of his pocket to reveal a knife. The boy behind him gasped, but the teenager put his free hand back motioning him to calm down. The old man’s smile faded away.

“I didn’t want to do this, but it looks like you’ve got a death wish,” sneered the man. He pulled out a gun, cocked it and aimed it at the teenager.

“RUN NOW!!” screamed the teenager. It was too late though. The man pulled the trigger and a bullet flew through the teenager’s chest. He collapsed to the ground with his scarlet blood staining the snow.

“NOOOOOO!!!!” shrieked the boy. He continued to scream in agony and the old man sprinted back to his van and sped away from the park. The boy continued to wail, but the teenager raised his finger up to the boy’s face in a silencing motion.

“I’m so sorry,” said the teenager as a tear ran down his cheek. “This is how it should be. Please don’t run away from home. Please . . .” He lowered his hand from the boy’s face and pointed to his breast pocket. With that motion, his hand went limp and his eyes closed. The boy brushed his sleeve against his wet face and reached into the teen’s pocket. Inside there he felt and object. The boy’s eyes widened as grasped it and pulled it out of his pocket. It was a marble . . . not just any marble though. It was his dad’s.