10th July

I had a dream.

I stared in front of me, staring at a single person there. I could recognise the location we were in, and I was not sure what to think about it. To my left, a line of windows lined the wall. I looked out the windows, I could see the stars that shine brightly in the sky. It was dark outside, unnervingly dark. The room was lighted with the ceiling lights of the classroom. For some reason, I felt that I was rather… isolated.

To my right, more windows, this time leading to the hallway, along with a door at the front of the class. Brown cabinets lined the back of the class, and tables were arranged in an orderly fashion. Equally spread apart, facing the front straight.

What was I doing in a classroom?

I sat at the back, the second seat from the right, where I would normally sit in class. At the front of the class, I could see some scribbles written in chalk, messy handwriting.

Sitting directly in front of me, was a girl, according to my assumptions. I could see her wearing a black jacket, which was unusual for the night. Her blonde ponytail hung short, hanging in a background of darkness. She was facing the front, as if not noticing me at all. Who was she? What was I doing here?

I tried to reach out to ask her but pulled myself back. Such a scenario was not normal, I started to get paranoid as to the reason I was in class at this time of the night.

The mood in the room was oddly tense. Silence hung in the air, nothing moved, not even a bug. I held my breath, listening to the thumping of my heart in my throat. I could tell something was off, but what exactly? I stared at the clock at the top of the blackboard, the hour hand remaining in place as the second hand moved in an anti-clockwise direction. Was time going backwards? I couldn't be.

I looked forward, and the girl was still unmoving, not even a flinch, as if she was a statue. I dared not go up to her to speak to her, or even look at her. It was too weird, the setting I was in was too weird.

There was the ticking of a clock that rang without warning. Except this time, it sounded different from usual.

Tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock-Tick Tock-Tick. The clock sounded throughout.

I listened, entranced as to why it sounded that way, a slow fear building up inside of me quickly. I stared at the clock as it continuously ticked backwards, and the girl did not move. I watched, and watched, and watched.

And there came a shriek of the audio system. I covered my eyes to no success, the shriek hurting my ears. But the girl in front of me did not flinch.

I listened, wondering what would the audio system be used for at this time of the night. Something was definitely wrong, I needed to leave, I needed to go home.

'.loohcs eht etaucave esaelp stneduts lla ,teaper I .loohcs eht etaucave esaelp ,stneduts llA'

What was going on? The sound of it was crooked and full of static. The voice was choppy and made no sense, what was he saying? My right leg started shaking uncontrollably as I waited. I should be going, I should be leaving, but something prevented me from doing so. What was happening to me?

The girl finally stood up.

She did not turn around, she did not look anywhere except forward. I could not see her face, and I could not tell what was her expression. She walked up to the blackboard, each step paced and calm. The sound of each footstep rang throughout, so clear that it was as if nothing else existed in the world. No sound overpowered her footsteps. The clock seemed to have stopped working, and the audio system had stopped some time ago. The girl stepped and stopped right in front of the blackboard, reaching for the duster.

From the bottom of the blackboard, she swiped up slowly. As if removing a layer of dust, a new image trailed behind the duster. From what I could assume, a drawing done with chalk. She stopped the duster and lifted it before swiping down on the blackboard, having the same effect. She continued with this action, slow and steady, the picture coming into realisation.

There was an umbrella, a simple flat triangle with a line down the middle. There were two stickmen figures drawn on either side. The one on the left was obviously a girl, with pigtails and a doll, a wide grin on her face. The on one the right had no hair or any other accessories.

It was a love umbrella, I read up an article that people used to tease those in a relationship. So who did the two stickmen represent?

The girl put the duster down and reached out for a stick of chalk. She held it gently in her hands, her fingers caked with a light layer of chalk powder. She lifted it and placed it in the female stickman's neck. With a flick of the wrist, she drew something around her neck, like a scarf, except, she then connected it to the umbrella above.

It was a crude drawing, the lines were rough and shaky. She lifted the chalk and used the hand to rub away the smile on the male stickman's face, the face smudging into a mess. She then drew a frown on his face. She dropped the chalk on the floor, producing a light clack, along with the snapping of the chalk. The chalk rolled on the ground for a while before coming to a stop, not too far away from her. What was she doing to the stickmen? What was it supposed to represent? I did not know, and was unsure of whether I wanted to know.

The girl did not turn around, she did not look at me as she sat at the teacher's table, facing the blackboard. She leaned back, using her arms as support by holding the table behind her. She seemed to be judging her art or appreciating it.

The blackboard cracked and shattered.

My eyes flew open.

I stared at the familiar ceiling once again. I looked to the right, and my father was there again as if he had never left to begin with. He noticed me and gave me a nod, putting a cup of water near my lips. I felt more tired than ever, what was to become of me? I seem to have lesser time, and the days I live seem to get shorter and shorter. What about school? What about the people I know? I slowly drank water.

My father told me, "Your mother's not coming again today, rough day at work."

I understood that my mother needed to work to support the family, but why couldn't she at least spare me some thought? Why not? I understood how important her job was, not just to her, but to me, but an hour or half shouldn't have been that hard. I was her son, she had taken care of me so well, wouldn't she at least try to see me. Even if she came when I was unconscious, as long as I knew that she had visited, I would feel much better. But according to my father, my mother's job has been more stressful than ever, whatever she worked as.

Maybe she just didn't want to see me anymore. Recently, I've been thinking, I rarely got to speak to my mother. I forgot how many days ago did it start, but she seemed so low energy. She never even looked at me once, much less speak to me. That shopping trip with my father, as much fun as that was, I would have much preferred if both my parents had come along. We could go on a full family activity, even if it was just to go buy groceries from the supermarket. I wanted to do some sort of activity with her, I just wanted to be with my family. But she never talked to me, she never bothered looking at me for the past few days. I'm hospitalised, sick and in pain, she never showed up.

Maybe she didn't want me anymore. She probably found out that all her problems could be solved should I no longer be part of the family. She probably thought that I was a burden, she was going to leave me, and soon, my father would too.

As more days go by, the doctors are trying their best to help me, but in the end, it depended on my body's natural healing system for me to fully recover. However long that may take, I did not know. I just hoped that it would be soon.

"There's no need to worry, both of us still love you." My father said.

It was supposed to be heartwarming, but I could not help but think about what liars they were. Who would love someone like me, I doubted even my parents wanted me. If they could legally abandon me, they probably would have done so.

"Your mother and I…" My father continued, a kind of sad look on his face. "Well… we, um… are working things out, yeah, working things out for when you return."

I could read between the lines, it just meant that they were most likely arguing. Whether it be the financial issue or themselves. I doubted it was the financial burden, neither my mother nor father were big spenders. We lived simple lives, and if we were in trouble, they would work together to get out of it. Thinking about it, it was most likely the lack of time they spent together, with my mother too tired to even speak.

They shouldn't be fighting between themselves, if they wanted someone to blame, it should have been me.

My father patted my shoulder, saying, "I'll be going back to work tomorrow. I'll rich here the moment my job ends, but you might not be awake at that time. For now, take care of yourself and recover, okay?"

I managed a slight nod, my body feeling too heavy to even move.

Okay.

My father nodded and looked away. He was such a reliable person, around him, I felt secure, safe, like nothing around me could bring me down. I loved my father, I loved my mother, I loved my family, I would never want to part with them. I know I may be an annoyance, but I still want to be with them, I want to be there until the day I died.

My eyes started to drop once again. Another short day, it was too short, in fact. What was I doing? Such a short day, when will I once again live a normal life?

I had a dream, at least, I think it was a dream.

I looked around in the dark hospital room. I had already silenced out the outside noise, but I could still hear faint breathing in the silent room. What time was it? Judging by the lights being turned off, it couldn't have been early. I looked to the right, and my mother was there. She seemed tired, her eyes half opened as she looked at me, almost as if she was in a trance. Her eyes started to tear up as she faced me, reaching out to hug me.

I could hear her whispers.

"I'm so sorry for being such a useless mother…"

She's wrong.

"I can't even take care of you properly…"

She's wrong.

"I know you won't forgive me…"

She's wrong.

"Please, if there is a God out there, please help my child… Please… help him…"

My mother fell back into her seat, her eyes closing before she nodded. She seemed so tired, unnaturally so. I could hear her whisper, "I need to go… I need to go make you some porridge… porridge always make you better… yeah, yeah… porridge… I'll make porridge for my little child, he's sure to be better."

My eyes closed shut.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

What was this pain in my chest that I felt?

Beep… Beep… Be- BANG!