It's easier to run

Replacing this pain with something numb

It's so much easier to go

Than face all this pain here all alone

He felt the air move and wanted to run. To stop exist and cease the endless pain. The endless presence of a man he no longer felt worthy to call his father. Not to even consider family again.

There was no more salvation worth for this man who's shadow would never step aside and let him be.

But he saw no light at the end of the day…

Gil happened to swing by and allowed Malcolm a bit of freedom as he was about to fly out to some conference for law enforcement and so the entire team received invitations and he understood the importance of education and sharing of knowledge, not one to pass up that opportunity as he once did. And he has been a profiler for less than Gil was a cop. Yet he made the most notorious case of that shit. He was all smiles and cheeks as the man left him be.

Then his mother brought fresh set of food and instructions for her son to survive for a few days until she's back from a short trip to some special event she was invited and couldn't take him along.

His sister only left a hearty text bragging about some girls trip to places with fancy names and parties and that he should maybe consider some night out as well.

Malcolm couldn't believe his own eyes and ears when he realized his entire family was about to leave town and leave him be for a couple days.

He promised to stay in and maybe use the rooftop as an excuse for fresh air or the pool for some exercise. Pinky promise and all.

He waited out until everyone has sent their plane pictures and promised to text back after landing.

Contrary to most people's belief he knew exactly how to use his phoned stalk everyone to double check and he even was skilled enough to make sure the cop side of his gang wasn't in on some games. It just wasn't something he allowed the world to know, a detail or few to keep to himself and for personal use only.

Something has been taken

from deep inside of me

A secret I've kept locked away

no one can ever see

The hand that was holding his phone didn't loose the grip for a long time. He didn't feel the time moving but he felt the air around him to change.

"My boy, you sure look like someone about to do some shady business."

The man was back. His voice tore through his body, mind and soul like a poison that would kill you slowly and extra painful.

He hated his old man more than was okay in any kind of book but there was nothing to do about that. Unless…

"My boy, why so sour? It's been a nice day, hasn't it? There's no reason to be this grumpy."

Malcolm glared at his hands, avoiding the reaction he could have in a moment of uncontrolled rage. There was nothing holding him back now. He could just trash the place in blind rage and call some cleaning crew afterwards and leave the city for a day.

What a freedom inspiring thought. He knew that won't happen especially because Jessica has her spies planted across the city that would spot him immediately and notify her regardless of her location. His mother could sometimes be so suffocating.

He could just hide on the roof terrace but then he'd fight even more demons. He knew that his lack of self preservation would lead if not to an embarrassment then something way worse. No rooftops then. Or was it too late and the thought wouldn't leave him?

He hadn't been up there for more than once and at the time he was semi-sober and it was bright day and Ains just dragged him up there for a coffee break and a chat. Malcolm knew that he wouldn't walk up to the very ledge otherwise something would happen that night. And there's another reason he slept chained to his own bed, not just so he wouldn't throw himself out the window.

"My boy, such an ignorance is extremely impolite, I thought I did teach you far better than this."

Oh the reflection of the man wouldn't leave him alone. His hands started to tremble again, eyes still refusing to look up at his one persistent demon. Through the years he's been struggling to bury the memories and all the disturbing thoughts but to no avail.

Wounds so deep they never show,

they never go away

Like moving pictures in my head,

for years and years they've played

There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape from the presence of his own demons. He was drowning and suffocating. There were no places to hide, the walls felt like closing in on him, vision tunnelling. The resistance to keep the images and memories away started to pull him under.

A thought occurred that maybe this was why he became so out of control for the past… god, what even was time…

What if he's spiralled somehow so badly that now it's turning into some psychosis?

To Malcolm that would be basically admitting he needed some more serious consulting and possible institutionalising and revamped med routine all over again. Just like that time he allowed his dark side to seep through a bit and Jessica believed all the rumours meant he was going off rails because of his sleeping disorder and possibly with his PTSD escalating the entire condition into something new. Seeing his own mother that worried made the realization hit - some demons and their accompanying feats must stay in the dark, he won't be ever again able to afford loose it like that…

But he had apparently managed to slip few more times than was okay for his state. There was part of NYPD now behind him and his sister was now closer than ever with his mother not even remotely denying her snooping and poking and prodding habits now that HE was all so near and dear to them all. He did have some mild complaint of how his financial situation got managed through his mother still, yeah, well, sometimes coming from the richest side of history came with certain downs. However he always had his own way to keep his founds and that's why some of his darkest secrets used to be kept hidden to this day.

Until a box of drugs explodes in the face and his brain supplies a sneaky throwback to the times he used to be pretty much besties with a certain white powder and nosebleeds ended up his companions far more longer than his mother suspected. And those were the times he also managed to slip out of things and stuffs as well. It turned out to be a major trigger to what once was a big part of his life and in variety of different ways than your regular teenager, so he didn't feel like absolute asshole thinking back.

Sure Vijay had managed to throw some actual parties and he did pull through to some tight situations when he's managed to miscalculate his ability to hold a drink against some more hardened teens but that also taught him few tips and tricks especially given how his own mother seemed to never let go of a glass of whatever the hell was her mood like.

But Malcolm wasn't some bland drone of a human being. He had his reasons then and he still has them now, it's just a thing now that he's more than old enough to make his own life choices he expected to be allowed to make and shape his life the way he needed it to be however he cannot.

For an adult he's too restricted in his choices now that he's back in NY and within the range of his family. It made him miss the relative freedom of his choices but it was far better than the fate he knew was deliberately lurking behind the shadows of his existence. His father was one of the examples of what kind of life to avoid, he crossed his fingers and swallowed a prayer to never go back to that life even if he had just a short moment to live in similar situation.

Which now was a part of his demons to keep buried. And that's how he found himself back to the tiny hidden compartment he'd placed in a hard to reach spot. He had to look to be sure because after the last occurrence he had to start keep tabs on his stuff.

Luckily there was still enough to last him a while and he knew few more things he kept around that could work in case of emergency. But it also meant he had to see another one kept in a separate location which involved to go upstairs and lurk around his rooftop garden, which then led to another issue he never had addressed with anyone out of fear for more restricted life and even larger pile of pills he had to take to keep his sanity semi-intact.

They did work the best for a while in the beginning starting this therapy but at this point years later he had his suspicions of needing a reevaluation and maybe some added therapy types because just sitting there and talking with the same person for many years feels like not enough, but also like his own subconsciousness keeping to certain ideas refusing to let go.

It's easier to run

Replacing this pain with something numb

It's so much easier to go

Than face all this pain here all alone