13th July

I had a dream.

Actually, I didn't have a dream, did I? It was mostly blank, I didn't dream of anything at all.

My eyes opened as I stared at the ceiling. Huh, did I have a dream? Was it normal to have dreamless sleep? I was not sure. What could be the reason behind it anyway? Maybe it was because of my state of mind.

What happened yesterday? I didn't feel like thinking about it, I felt bad enough. I made Pink cry, I was a shitty person alright. Why did I have to go and make such a nice girl, a seemingly nice girl, cry? What was wrong with me? I laid down on the bed, shifting uncomfortably, my mind filled with regret. What would have happened if I had agreed? Would she have reacted differently? Of course, she would, why wouldn't she? I mean, by what Red said, she was probably playing around with me. Yeah… that crying was most likely an act, yeah, an act. I have no reason to regret anything, I did the right thing, definitely.

Fuck me, why did I do that?

I hit my bed, getting up. I scratched my head, feeling the residual pain on my scalp. I got up in my dark room, what time was it? I wished I had a clock in my room. I paused, oh right, I did. I turned around, but could not see the red light produced by my clock. Did my parents get rid of it? I wonder.

I went up to the switch and flicked it on, my room being engulfed in light. I looked around, not exactly sure why I did so either. I stretched, letting out a loud yawn as I did. I looked at my sketchbook, it has been a long time since I sketched, huh? I sat down and held the pencil gently in my hands, feeling like it was such a foreign object.

Being stuck in the hospital for those few days really did have an effect on me. For one, I missed the week of school, I wasn't sure if I'll know what's happening when I return. I let my pencil touch the paper, feeling the familiar feeling of the pencil against the paper. The soft sound of the scratches of each stroke. I let my mind wander, what should I be doing?

Huh, I thought. I thought about random stuff. I wonder what I was going to do today. My father never said a thing, and he refused to tell me anything. My mind and heart were in disarray after my encounter with Pink. Until I find out who she really is, I doubted my uneasiness would ever leave me. Maybe we could try and go somewhere like the shopping mall? Maybe if my father needed anything. Maybe my mother would want to do some shopping .

"I wonder..." I whispered.

I stopped my pencil. On it, I had accidentally drawn something similar to a face. It was a rough sketch, and not at all detailed, however, I could somewhat make it up. It was a girl, and her eyes were half-closed, tears flowing out and down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. I closed the sketchbook, not wanting to think too much about it.

I stood and walked out of the room and into the living room. How much time had passed? From the living room's window, I could see a faint sunlight. I guess it was the early morning. I felt fine, so I think I was completely cured of that illness, for now.

"Good morning," I said as I saw a cat.

Our family cat, Mei. She was a back and white cat. I poked her stomach playfully, the cat reacting by playfully scratching at my hand. I rubbed its belly, but she did not like it one bit. She jumped off the couch and disappeared under once again.

I turned around, and my father was there. I had not noticed when he had stepped that close to me. He wore a suit, a dark suit. He handed me something and told me, "Change into this."

"Why?" I asked, understandably confused.

"I'll tell you later." My father told me. "Just change."

I did as he said, after doing my business and taking a shower, of course. I ended up wearing the white buttoned-up shirt and the black suit, along with a dark blue tie. I was also told to wear a pair of black pants that reached my ankles. My father said nothing more, he only waited in the living room, staring at his hands that were clasped in front of him.

I walked up to him, and he stood up, standing facing me. He had a gentle smile on his face, a deep sadness in his eyes. What was he sad about? Why wasn't he telling me? What's going on?

My father pulled a circular tin, a can of hair gel. He helped me apply some hair gel, swiping my hair back. I stood there, feeling his fingers run through my hair. He finished and hugged me close, whispering, "Whatever you hear or see, please, don't be too sad. I'm begging you, don't be too sad."

"Why?"

He squeezed me tighter and walked back to the kitchen to wash his hands. He came out, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. He put his shoes on, and so did I. He walked slow, perhaps too slow, as if he didn't even want to go to our destination. He was avoiding my question, he did not want to explain anything to me. Why was he being that way? What had happened?

We got in a taxi which my father had called over. The mood was silent, and I was so distracted by the way my father was acting that I failed to hear the destination. I could feel my heart thumping, wherever we were going, it was not going to be happy, is it?

I looked out the window the entire time, watching the passing scenery, not particularly interested.

The taxi stopped.

I stood outside it, my father leading the way.

It was weird. There were so many faceless people in the building. They pointed and stared at me. All of them seemed grey, all of them were blurry. I could only tell that they were looking, that they were pointing, talking about me. I walked behind my father. He seemed to split the grey seas, people moving aside as he walked. I walked behind him as if he was the light that guided me through.

Where were we? Why were there so many people?

My father stopped.

I stopped and saw.

My heart stopped.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

It can't be, right? It's a dream, everything's a dream, right. Yeah, must be, there was no way what I was seeing was real. No way, can't be. Get out of here! Please, let all of this be a dream.

In front of me, was a brown box, which was weirdly shaped. Under the box, were yellow flowers, not just yellow, orange, red. But most stark of all, directly in the middle, as if staring at me, were black flowers, pitch black. On those black flowers, a picture. I took a step back.

My father walked up to it.

I turned around and ran in the other direction, pushing through the crowd, pushing through the faceless people. It can't be, I refuse to believe it. I ran to the road as fast as I could, but someone managed to grab my hand. I stopped, shaking.

The feeling in my chest, the heat in my face. My eyes felt so hot, and wet. My face felt warm, and I was sweating profusely. I looked down, closing my eyes, shivering. My father wrapped his arms around me and patted my back. He was also shaking, and I could tell, we were both in tears.

"How long…" I asked, soft.

"I got news the day before." My father replied. "Forgive me, my son."

I let out a scream, one I had never met out before in my life. A scream of absolute despair. What was I doing in a public place? But to me, it was not public at all, it was as if I was alone with my fathers he continued to pay me back, trying to calm me down.

"How?" I asked, shouting.

"It was a road accident." My father replied, his voice breaking. "They say she jumped in front of the car."

I cried, burying my face in my father's chest. He was trying to calm me down, and at that point, I had no more tears left to cry. I stood there, staring blankly at the ground. I whispered to my father, "Let's go home."

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes..." I replied, softer this time.

At home, I sat on my bed, staring at the blank wall. I stopped thinking, I stopped moving. My father tried to get me to eat something, but I just had no appetite for it. No, I don't want to accept it, but it was painfully obvious.

Life was meant to end, but not this way. Not in a fucking road accident!

I remember the whole scene from the building, the box, a casket. The picture, my mother.

Kill me.

At night, I laid on my bed, shivering. I shook and could not stop myself. I did not feel hungry, did not feel thirsty, did not feel bored. I felt my tears flow down once again. If I ever meet that driver, I'm going to kill him, I'm going to fucking kill him and hang his corpse on his front door. His family too, his family should see it. If they don't react enough, I'll go make them feel what I'm feeling right now. Where was that son of a bitch? I want to know where he was, I wanted to snap his neck, gut him and nail him to his front door like Jesus.

Why? Of all the bad people in the world, why couldn't one of them have died instead? What did my mother ever do? Hey, it's unfair, right? Shouldn't that guy also suffer the same fate? It's only fair. Accident or not, doesn't change the fact that he murdered someone, and my mother no less. If I ever meet him, I'll keep a weapon on hand. Hell, maybe I'll grab a brick and slug the fucker.

Hey, so what about my day with my family? How can I go on one… when…

Fuck it, I'll just die.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Beep… Beep… Beep…