14th July

I had a dream.

I stood in front of a building. The building, I recognised it. It was the hospital which I was at when I was sick recently, but I wasn't too sure whether it was the exact same one. I looked around. It was dark, it was late in the night. The lights of the hospital shone dimly, and where I stood, it was completely dark. The neon sign of the hospital was dim, and in front of the hospital, was a road.

The road flashed with light, red and yellow lights as the cars drove by. The cars seemed fast, were vehicles supposed to be moving that quickly? What was the speed limit of cars? Besides, what was I doing back at the hospital? I don't remember ever wanting to come back. Unless, of course, I was sick again. I don't feel that sick though.

I looked around, there seemed to be a lack of people. I looked at the road, there were no bumpers at the side to stop the cars from driving off the road. I stepped away from the road, not feeling safe. I turned to look at the hospital once again, and I saw a figure walking out.

It was dark.

The clouds hid the moon, the stars no longer twinkled due to light pollution. The sky was so dark that nothing seemed to exist. There was a light breeze. It was too dark for me to see, but I could tell from the silhouette that it was a person. The person had long hair and walked weirdly. The person walked slowly, each step seeming hard for her. Was she sick? I assume she's a woman from her hair. Was she sick? What was she doing outside the hospital? And why was no one stopping her?

I watched as she staggered towards the road. What was she doing? Was she going to wait for someone to pick her up? It's pretty dangerous, she should probably step back.

'Porridge for my son…'

It was a soft whisper, almost like she was in a trance. Her voice was so tired, and hearing her voice made me tear up. No, it couldn't be, what was I seeing? The woman, from her voice, I could tell that she was undoubtedly my mother.

What was she talking about? What porridge? What porridge was she talking about? What did it have to do with me? I tried to reach out, but could not move. I wanted to go to my mother, give her a hug, stop her. She continued walking forward, her body swaying. She was not in the right state of mind, what was she thinking about.

He'll feel better.

I could hear nothing, but could tell what she was saying, I knew what she was saying. I tried to scream, but no voice came out. My mother seemed to have heard my inaudible plea. She turned to face me, and my sight was filled with light. I could see my mother, as if she was surrounded by a white light. She looked me in the eyes, and her mouth twisted into a gentle smile as she saw me. I stared, my mother looking at me.

'Mom will always lo-'

A loud bang.

I stared at what was in front of me blankly. The car stopped at the side of the road, the traffic also stops. On the road, a trail of blood on the road, was a limp body. I saw a man step out of the car. More and more people stepped out of their cars, phones in their hands. Those fuckers were taking pictures.

What was so interesting about it, huh? Why are they taking pictures of my mother? Was her death worthy to post on your shitty Social Media posts? Do those people want their own families to be killed, have their pictures taken and posted online for views? So that they could get the pathetic feeling of being famous by a few 'likes'? Absolute pieces of shit.

I scratched m arm, snarling at them.

We're humans like that? Why were they so stupid?

My eyes flew opened.

I blinked at the ceiling, still feeling the residual feeling of hatred and disgust. I lifted my right arm and slammed down on my bed, frustrated. I threw the blanket off me violently before grabbing a handful of my bedsheet, pulling at it until it threatened to tear apart. I sat up, letting go of my bedsheet. I stared at my hands. I have to keep going, but what was the point anymore? The only thing I'll end up doing is dragging my father down more, I'll eventually be left behind again. I looked to the side, seeing the dark.

My alarm clock rang, filling the room with an annoying shrill.

I grabbed the alarm and threw it at the ground, the clock breaking apart. I stared at the broken pieces of the clock in the dark room, breathing hard. I stood up and kicked my bed before calming down. I knew my dream enraged me, but what exactly made me so angry? I did not know, and was unsure if I wanted to know. I went to my switch, flicking the lights on before going to my table. I looked around at my art supplies for a few seconds. Drawing could help me, I could forget about everything if I drew, right? I opened my sketchbook, flipping past my previous sketches and to a new, blank page.

I do not know what I was thinking, I threw the sketchbook at the window, slamming the pencil on the table. I proceeded to then press one end of the pencil against the table, the other end pushing down, snapping the pencil in half. The loose half of the pencil rolled away, and shattered pencil lead sprinkled the table. I tossed the half I was holding and pressed my head on the table, my arms wrapped around my head.

Why was life so unfair to me? And only to me?

Hey God, if there is a God. Why me? First I was given this weak body, riddled with disease, with this minuscule strength that was unable to survive without medical treatment. In time, I was sure to co tract a fatal disease. I was born in an average family, so it wasn't like the bills were cheap. Even after that, my family was forced to work, and my mother was forced to work till she seemed so worn out. My mother would then get involved in a traffic accident. You have to be kidding me, why did no one else go through what I did? Why were others healthy? Was it because of something I did in my previous life? What was it? Why? Why only me?

Why couldn't I be the one who died instead? My parents could be happy together, my father could still have her, they still have each other. They could have my funeral, and be over and done with. I'll be there only temporarily. Nothing else mattered, in fact, wouldn't my death benefit both my parents and myself? I'll have to stop going through this pain, this pain that hurt so badly. I should have died, my mother should have survived.

I heard a knock at my door.

It was my father, he did not open the door. He spoke from behind the door. His voice was shaky and soft, "Tomorrow's the day."

I did not reply.

"Are you awake?" He asked, his voice still soft.

I did not reply.

"I'm really sorry, that I couldn't help your mother."

I did not reply.

"I know you will need your personal space, but… never mind."

I did not reply.

"I guess you're asleep, huh?"

I stood up without making a sound, walking towards the door without a sound. I turned my back against the door and sat down with my back pressed against the door. Maybe it was the shift in the door, or maybe the light from the bottom of the door, my father seemed to know I was there and listening.

"Tomorrow… we need to go. To send her off. You'll attend, right?"

I did not reply.

"You don't need to go to school. I won't force you."

I did not reply.

There was silence for a few seconds, as if he was thinking about what to say.

"I have to go to work soon." My father told me. "Will you be alright? If you don't feel well, call me, okay? I'll rush right home."

I did not reply.

"Please, drink water, eat something." My father pleaded.

I did not reply.

I brought my knees to my chest as I hugged my knees close. I looked down at the ground, not sure how to respond, and not wanting to respond. My head hurt, my throat was dry, and my stomach churned. I was not in the best of conditions, but I couldn't give less of a shit about myself.

"I… I know I'm not a good parent." My father said to me, his voice breaking. "I… I don't know what the future will be."

I did not reply.

"I'm not sure if I can properly take care of you."

I did not reply.

Here it was. Just what I expected. My father couldn't take care of me and was probably going to abandon me. It made sense, I understood his reason for it. With the money he made, how would he ever take care of my medical expenses, or even both our lives in general? I don't mind that he leaves me, yeah, I don't mind at all.

…

Who was I kidding? Why would I ever want my father to abandon me? I don't want him to leave my side ever! I want to be with him, I want to have a father. My mother was gone, the only family I had left was my father. I can't simply be abandoned by him, no, I can't! Don't leave me!

"I got offered a job at the next town over." He continued.

I did not reply, only shaking.

"I met with a friend of mine recently…"

I did not reply, tears flowing down my face as I tried to wipe them away. My nose became blocked with mucus as I tried to sniff.

"The day after tomorrow, I'll bring you over to meet them." He said.

I did not reply.

"They can take care of you better than I can."

Please don't! Was what I wanted to shout, but could not bring myself to.

"Just remember, Rhyar." My father said.

I felt a thud on the door, as if he had hit his head against the door. "I'm a useless father, aren't I?"

His voice was so shaky and weak, and so in pain. "I can't even take care of my own son!"

I did not reply.

There were a few seconds, what assumed my father to be regaining his composure.

"But just remember." He said more of a whisper, his voice filled with such pain. "I'll always love you."

There was a few seconds.

"Me too." I said.

I stood up and opened the door, no one there. I fell to my knees again, holding the doorknob. My father's shoes were no longer there. I kicked the door, slammed it over and over again. I screamed, cried and eventually fell on the sofa.

That's right, I needed to drink water, my father told me to. I needed to eat, my father told me to.

I wanted them to abandon me, but I didn't mean it. I don't want to be alone, please, I want to be with my father. Please, at least while I'm healthy, I want to live with my father. I want to do everyday things with him. I'll even learn how to cook! I'll do the dishes, I'll do the laundry. I'll be a good child and not ask for anything. We can live poor, I can drop out of school, I don't care. I just don't want to be apart from my father. Please… please…

That night, I went to sleep early, wanting to escape the reality that plagued me.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Cold, so, so cold.

Beep… Beep… Beep…