Green.

I think I suck at this one. Don't you think so?

            I was there. I was standing right there when the dark green suited man killed the lady. I was trembling right there when he stabbed the lady three times exactly on the gut, making her spit out pints of thick crimson blood. He wasn’t aware of my presence, I’ll never doubt that. He just stabbed her with this piece of real sharp weeding knife, I think, wiped away the blood that was drooling on it, and walked away without taking a glance back.

 

            I woke up, startling and gasping for air. I blinked my pair of eyes open, hoping to find light but found nothing. I was drowned. I was drowned with both fear and darkness. I could hardly breathe. So, I started to scream.

            At first, I thought I would just wail, because I was only in darkness. I knew it was just a really bad, bad dream that would fly away in the end, but panic overwhelmed my nerves. At the mere thought of the man, I started to shout and scream and shriek, nothing but, “NO!” My heart beat like drum beats, faster and faster as I breathe.

            Out of the sudden, lights flickered and switched on, telling me where I was.

            It was a warm looking room. The light was a hint of pure golden, making everything seemed cosy and superbly warm. I was sitting upright on a bed, and I was covered with warm white blankets. Only then I realized that it was my room.

            “Shia? Shia, honey,” a voice petrified me. I quickly turned my head to where the voice was.

            It was my dad, coming to the rescue. He was wearing his normal dark green robe, and that only made me screamed louder at the presence of the word ‘green’. I brought my hands to my face, digging my nails into my palms so hardly until there were traces of my nails on my palms. I started crying wildly, sobbing and coughing in the wildest manners.

            “Shia,” dad kept on calling my name. He came closer and bent down to check on me. “Hey, hey, look at me.” Dad sat down and held my hands, which had already turned into tight balls. He found out that I wasn’t going to open my eyes and look at him, so he brought me into his warm, fatherly embrace.

            There was something so strange in his way of calming me. It was so soft and delicate and comforting, as if his own heart was telling me over and over again that there was nothing to fear. He caressed me the way a father would when I was madly crying on his shoulder. He shushed me with the utmost lovely way. He hugged me, bringing my ear to his chest, the way he used to do when he told me he loved me.

            “He--He killed her,” I panted. I didn’t know what I said next, but everything sounded as if they were about the bad dream I just had.

            My mind went all fuzzy and foggy. Who exactly was that man? He had been haunting my my mind everytime I closed my eyes, trying to find the dreamland. I hadn’t even figured out who he was. I jsut couldn’t. He seemed like he didn’t even exist, but the dreams made him real the more.

            “Who, Shia?” Dad whispered into my right ear and hugged me tighter. “Who are you talking about?”

            “Him.”

            And all of the sudden, the man was right in front of me--the exact weeding knife in his right grip, and the dark emerald velvet coat.