3 am.

I'm back in my room, but I can't sleep. It's Monday and I have to go to school in the morning, but I know I won't be able to get any rest tonight. Not after everything that has happened.

When I came back into the house an hour ago, I found mom on the sofa in the living room. She had fallen asleep, the phone in her hand, her face puffy and her eyes red from crying. I took it from her and saw that she had called my cell phone 30 times. I had left it in my room when I ran. She woke up immediately, and hugged me so tightly that I thought she'd crash my ribcage, but I didn't care. I felt so warm and comfortable and loved in her arms that I never wanted her to let go.

She then told me that dad had left again. After I had run out of the room, he had obviously gone back to not talking at all. Mom had tried to talk to him, but he had just ignored her. Dad had a business trip to Europe scheduled for today, so he had just grabbed a suitcase, packed his things and left without another word.

I didn't know what to say, so I just sat down next to her on the sofa. When I looked in her eyes, I saw so much sorrow I could barely stand it. She had always been so strong and brave and beautiful. Now she sat there, crying quietly, holding on to my hand and looking like her whole world had just collapsed.

It probably had.

I know that she loves dad dearly, although I never really understood why. I know that they were college sweethearts, and have gone through everything together for such a long time. She just accepts him, with all his mood swings and turmoil. I'm not sure how much she gets in return, but it seems enough for her. It's some kind of weird symbiosis I don't really understand.

Then, there's Cooper and I. I know that she loves us with all her heart.

And what do we all do at one point or another?

We run. Preferably in the middle of the night. We run off as fast as we can, leaving her alone with all the mess we've caused.

I feel so guilty about not taking my phone and at least letting her know that I was alright. She never said anything, but I think I scared her to death.

It's kind of weird that I'm worrying about her so much. I should be lying in my bed, crying into the pillows and feeling sorry for myself. Instead, all I think about right now is how I can make her feel better.

I guess that's what you do when you truly love someone.

Huh. I suddenly feel so much older than only three days ago.