Dream ≠ h.h.j

10

> Kim Hanna's POV

I saw the tip of the pen and the unconscious piece of memory slips through my mind. Everything was a blur, and the images flickered hazily through my mind, but just enough that I could make out the dark figures moving. 

No matter how many times I saw it, I was at school, in one of the student council room. It was dark, I guessed that it was late afternoon, approaching dusk even. The clouds were dark grey and a thunderstorm was coming by the harsh droplets of rain. It was picking its speed and the wind thrashed and rattled against the window.

I saw one of the figure crouching down, the others standing and looking up at her- a girl I think- offering a hand. I couldn't read any of their expressions but I saw the faint color of our school uniforms, red and white peaking through the darkness. 

My chest tightens as I stand and watch the foreboding scene, my hand reaching to my hair and straightening it to comfort myself. To what exactly I did not know.  I hugged myself tighter and walked backwards, wanting to escape this place, my breathe haggard. 

My heart was pumping fast, so much so that I could feel a sudden rush of blood in my head making me unsteady on my feet. Lighter, I could feel myself getting, much lighter. I wanted to get myself away from the image, I wanted to turn my back and run, but I could not peel my eyes away from it. 

I did not realize it but I was no longer standing, my hands on the cold ground while I watched helplessly.

She would strike.

That thought appeared suddenly and I did not know exactly why, but there was a strong conviction that it was right. I did not know how the black figure came to be about a girl, but I didn't question it. Worst, I could not prepare it though I had seen it coming. The figure standing raised her thin arms and struck down towards to girl. 

I screamed. 

My body had retracted in fear, for the girl perhaps, but I was trembling vigorously. My eyes widened and my screams would not stop, it would not stop the cursed image of the figure banging their fist on her relentlessly- they could not hear it. I wanted to march inside and stop everything if I had the courage to, but terror filled me numb. I was paralyzed.

My throat was hoarse and hurting, but I did not stop. I pushed my head down by force and enclosed myself within the warmth of my arms, though I could barely feel any. I shut my eyes tightly and felt the wet and moist tears escaping from eyes. I later realized I had been crying for a while, but I did not bother, it was not important. 

I was clutching myself tightly, away from the scene, from the rest of the world. My mind was blank and I couldn't think of anything, nothing had made sense, and for the very first time, I can feel myself going insane. It was perfectly possible to reach the level of insanity I had read about, watched on television where it was deemed as a hoax by my mother, and finally, it struck me true to be capable of the thing I feared most.

...

"You woke?" a voice said softly. 

I opened my heavy eyes and felt weak, my mind particularly lazy and dense, with my thoughts slow and unmoving. I looked at the navy-haired boy in front of me and despite the horrible state I was in, I managed a small smile.

"Hyunjin." I breathed out. "You're here." 

He looked tired and weary, but effortlessly handsome as always. I realized that my head was on lap and we were under a white tree, glowing and luminous like that of an angel's property, full of light and power. It was incredibly bright, but not blinding- it was calm for that matter.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Yes." 

His expression was unreadable and full of mystery, like that of a canvas with spilled colorful paint. There was that fiery red sharpness to his face yet that unmistakable blue hidden in his eyes, locked behind layers of substances that created a single file of color. When mixed together, well, a masterpiece really. 

"I-" I croaked meekly. "I was scared." 

It was foolish even uttering such embarrassing words, a part of me knew that instantly. I knew that yet I needed comfort from someone to soothe the stabbing image from my mind. I wanted to erase it completely; I seek destruction of the brutal memory. Goosebumps trailed from my arms thinking about it, but I shut my eyes tightly and reached to hug his waist. 

He welcomed me and enveloped his arms around me warmly, affectionately. I could smell faint aromatic scent of flowers on his white clothes, refreshing and relaxing. I felt him kiss the crown of my head slowly and placed his hand on it. 

"I'm sorry." he whispered and frowned slightly. "It was hard on you wasn't it?"

Flickers of passing photos flooded my mind and I could feel the familiar lump in my throat, threatening to rise again. 

"Yes." I admitted honestly. "I didn't know what it was but..." 

My throat had swelled from my previous shoutings and talking itself was a hard chore. My eyes felt puffy and even if I wanted to cry, there was nothing left. No tears, no moisture, just the harsh feeling of pain in my heart and body. 

I buried myself further in his clothes, not having the energy to continue speaking. 

"Don't think about it." he reassured me, circling his thumbs on my temples to soothe me. "Only a bad dream." 

I was surprised but I did feel lighter and my head was clearing as he comforted me again and again. Not enough to clear the thunderous storms but just enough to keep me awake and talking in short phrases. We were there for hours I can guess. He played with my hair, traced strange patterns on my arms and accompanied me while I could not talk anymore as I descended into darkness. 

I remembered the very last thought in my hazy conscious. 

It was only a bad dream, nothing more. 

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