It was a short nightmare. Short, but enough to tear my heart up just a little bit more. 639Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8xSEau6rV7
It took place at my school, Encore. I don't recall what mood I was in, where I was headed from, or even what grade I was in. I only recall walking past the C-building, there he came from, Jarod. An onslaught of confusion and hysteria followed; Jarod was dead, wasn't he?
He talked to me, walked with me to my class, and I remember it felt so real. Then, in that false bliss, I thought that perhaps that "bad day" was just a dream I had experienced, that Jarod was still alive. He was there, clear as day, and as our arms brushed as we walked side by side through that narrow hall, I felt him.
Dreams were never tangible, not to me. But I felt him, he was alive.
He hugged me before I walked into the class, his arms tight around me, and I felt it. I was so happy, happier than I had been since that seemingly false day had passed, and I looked back to see him smiling at me, waiting at the door.
"Do you remember him?" I recall asking the teacher.639Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCvr5cbi9bI
"Who?"639Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ81gjBWVWVN
"Jarod, the boy I walked in with? He was in your class last year."639Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoS50c1ejuL
"BuBu...you came in alone..."
My smile faded. A familiar , heavy ache returned to my previously peaceful and joyful heart, painful, like adorned with knives.
The bliss was a dream. A nightmare. And it hurt so damn much.
That bad day was real. Jarod had died.
I remember waking up, tears running down my face. I don't think I slept again that night.
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