About a month ago, all I was can be described as the following: Mable Taylor, the girlfriend of my beloved T. The sole daughter of two wonderful men. A scholar, a learner, a future leader.

Now? I mean nothing to this planet. And it means nothing to me.

I was never made to be of this world. I know that, now.

Quietly, May plotted her own self-eulogy in her head, because she figured she had never been much of a good runner, anyway.

Her and Phoebe bolted as fast as they could, struggling to run through the mud. With every squelch and squish below her feet, May wondered if running from her parents was really the right choice. They weren't enemies per say; yet they certainly wanted something different for her than what she wanted for herself.

(Then again, Miss Taylor did not give much information justifying her choices about her parents via her Tumblr post—therefore, I won't try any further to justify it myself and will continue the action.)

All at the same time as running from the men who raised her, May heard the sound of Poop Tattoo's voice in her head, "Run, run, but wherever you go? I'll find you."

"Get out of my head!" May shouted, struggling to unstick her shoe from some mud. In the end, she was forced to leave one shoe behind.

"Can you blame me, darling? I'm only doing what I'm told, like a good bounty hunter does."

"Shut up!" May said, as if it would help.

"More like a 'files hunter', really. Hunting my own kind to prevent being hunted or locked in a cage. Sucks. But it pays the bills."

"I don't care!" May retorted.

Breathing rather hard, Phoebe said, "You look like you're nuts right now! And tell him that he still needs to call me back."

"Not the time!" But she could see her parents' flashlight gleaming against a nearby tree. May could hear the sound of Poop Tattoo's voice in her head, and he was saying, "It'll all be over, soon."

"Mable?" her dad called out, his voice ever-so-recognizable.

"Honey, we just want to help you!" her father called.

She breathed louder as she continued to run from them.

"Should've listened to them, May."

"Everyone just leave me alone!" she screamed. Then, she fell elbow and knees first into the mud.

"Wake up, May. Time to wake up."

Phoebe was quick to help her up. "I'll take them on if I need to!"

"Don't hurt my parents," May said, resuming her run. "They're just—"

A bolt of lightning cracked in the distance, prompting Phoebe to scream, "I feel like I just peed my pants right now!"

"It's okay to take secrets to the grave!" May wasn't sure why she said that; only that her adrenaline was pumping and it seemed like she needed to say something.

Finally, they saw the shadow of the tree emerging before them, stretching out over the wet and muddy land. There was a fleeting thought that if they were successful, leaving this world for the next one over would mean leaving everything behind. Then again, all May envisioned of a better world was one where she would not have to make such a choice. Therefore, she went as fast as a woman in mud could go toward that damn tree.

Something hard grazed her foot and she yelped. Glancing down, she saw a sharp and heavy rock. Poop Tattoo was several feet behind her.

And right behind him was her dad with an arm full of rocks. "Sorry, baby girl!" he shouted. "That was meant for him, not you!"

"Honey, you're a terrible aim!" her father yelled. He was covered in mud splatter all the way up to his chin.

May's heart sunk to see them both there, fighting for her. It was easier to let go when it seemed as though there was less holding her to this world.

After a split second of looking between May and her parents, Phoebe grabbed for the rock that had been thrown and hurled it toward their attacker. That hit Poop Tattoo right into the shoulder and he groaned, falling to his knees. While he wriggled in pain, a suddenly more confident Phoebe started kicking the crap out of him.

That was when May took the opportunity to rush to her parents, despite all the effort she went through to get away from them in the first place.

"Mable!" her father exclaimed. They both hugged her, despite being muddy and sweaty.

She buried her face in her dad's shoulder, just as she said, "I love you. I know you were just trying to protect me, but. . . I. . . I just. . ."

Her father pulled away from the hug and placed both strong hands on her shoulders.

Both men cast a serious glance toward the tree. They looked to one another. Then, back at May.

"You have to go," her dad said, his voice soft, his gaze penetrating into her eyes. "Take the chance your mother never had."

"Do what you have to do," her father said. His voice was broken.

May could feel her own face getting hot. She wanted to ask them if they were sure, and for a second, she fought the urge not to beg them to just take her home.

But then, hail balls slammed down on them, because oh, of course they did. The sky never opened up and poured down balls of ice when everything was going well.