I'm not sure how to start this because I don't remember where it all began. I was with him, someone who held my hand for a year but decided to let me go in a matter of days. I'm pretty sure we all know his name now. I'll never forget it, because it stirs all kinds of emotions in me, from bliss to anger, and it brings joy and grudges.
The thing with my dreams is, they're really unpredictable. I don't understand the pattern in them; sometimes they're funny, sometimes they're bloody. Sometimes they make zero sense, sometimes they blow my mind about something I was once clueless about in the past. This time, my dreams decided to bring back something which I'd never thought of in such a long time.
It's only been about two months since he left. I've cried, I've screamed, I've walked in a daze on the roads, I've drank half my health away. The pain was over when I found my new love, the expressways of my country. The loneliness was gone when I reunited with my parents and met Heroine. It was all over.
I never thought of him anymore. Still, my mind decided to stir up a dream about him.
The difference about the 'him' in the dream was how willing he was to explore new corners with me. In reality, he never wanted to go further than bus interchanges that had buses to Johore.
We were somewhere on the purple line, though I'm not sure which station exactly. The initial plan was to catch a movie, and we had to walk through this institution to get to the cinema. Some kind of weird school.
...The 'he' in the dream was exactly as I remember him. He displayed exactly the qualities which had made me fall head over heels, made me stay, made me devastated to have to let him go. I'm just saying. Not that it bothers me.
I bumped into this huge middle-aged man, who I later learnt was the Headmaster of the school. He made all the people there sit in this long line, including 'him' and I. I saw one of the students' notebook, in which she had carved onto the cover for her friend next to her to read: "Fight or flight, in which is death".
The Headmaster saw us engrossed with the cover of this notebook, and he snatched it out of us. The girls in front of me held their breath, hoping he couldn't make out the words on the cover. He didn't, but he was not happy with us. Me, especially, for some reason.
When he walked away, the girls whispered to me about an uprising. About how they'd been locked in this school for many years, forced to be slaves and to study all day, everyday. About how they've been planning to fight back for their rights, for their stolen lives. About how the plan for this rebellion was to "Fight, because flight ensures death."
What bothered me most was how, apparently, 'he' and I were also part of this school already, made slaves for having trespassed the school property. That was what made me choose to fight; because flight was instant death. [I didn't know what way exactly, but it was what scared the students there]
That was what I did. I went against whatever the Headmaster said. I refused to do anything he asked. Another boy followed suit. Eventually the Headmaster realised our constant defying, and took us into this single room, just a box across the street of where everyone else was.
The Headmaster told us to surrender ourselves; and by that, he meant he wanted us as a sacrifice. He demanded we gave up our heads, literally. As he was talking away, the other boy made signals to me for us to try and run. It was a good idea, but I remembered the 'Fight or Flight' thing, about how running away leads to death.
In the end, the idiot boy made a run out the door. Because the Headmaster couldn't react in time, he decided to vent it on me. My hair was pulled, my face was slapped. He pulled me to the pillory, trying to secure my head and hands in the woodwork. All I could do was struggle to release his latch on me.
Eventually I managed to escape his grasp, and it was my turn to run out the door. I totally forgot about the whole "Fight, because if you run, you die" theme, and just as I was about to run back across the street to everyone else was, I realised something odd.
Everyone was dead. Even my prince, who was sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood forming out of his neck.
I ran to him first, and tried to awaken him, although he was obviously dead. I held him in my arms, but it wasn't long before I realised the monsters coming for me. They were these completely black and white monsters, thin strands on their heads being their only hair. They were human, but they were not. And humans definitely did not float around corpses the way these things did.
One got to me, and I let out a scream just as I was brought back to the scene in which I ran out the door. Yep, I was brought back in time. This time, I didn't stop to hold the 'he' in my arms. This time, I decided to run to the wall, scale it, and made a run for it. This time, I lived.
Honestly, the part that bothers me most, is not the cold, or the dark, or the bloody, but his presence. It may be just a dream, but it bothers me so bad I haven't stopped thinking of it since I woke up. I haven't stopped thinking of him, to be exact.
And I just realised I called him my prince again. Mm, not gonna change that.
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