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Hyperventilating, I shoot up from my bed with a cold panic. Panting.
My heart is thumping wildly in my chest. Sweat poured all over me. My mouth dried in terror.
That nightmare. Again.
But this time, it is different. It is more dreadful, frightening, and scary. I was struggling in my sleep before I finally woke up. This time, I saw his face. I had never seen his face before. I only saw what he was doing. Until now, I never knew who was behind it. This time, not only did he point a gun at me, he also pointed a gun at Elsa, and finally, when someone rushed in to save us, he pointed a gun at him too.
Realizing my body is still shaking from the shock, I drape the duvet around me, grabbing my phone and flickering the bedside lamp on.
Hugging my body to myself as I shuddered once more, remembering vividly the nightmare this time. Frantically, I began to search for a number. Jungkook's.
I stopped searching, when his name is already in view. My hands tremble as I debate giving him a call.
I'm sure he is at his apartment. This is already 3 a.m. in the morning. After calming myself with a series of exhalations, I rise from the bed and stroll to check on Elsa in her room. She is sleeping soundly.
I was unable to go back to bed for fear of experiencing that horrible dream of that guy in black that sneaked into my house, pulling the trigger after placing his Glock on my child's chest.
After that, he shot Jungkook too, and finally me. That was when I woke up. I was screaming. I was shouting. Pleading to him not to kill my child, but he did.
I sigh and begin to make trips around the house till morning comes. I take a quick bath, apply a little makeup to cover the red bag under my eyes, and then take Elsa to dance school, yes Elsa love dancing. Since we are in Korea, she started to listen to a K-pop song. She has become one of the K-pop fans now.
After dropping her off instead of heading to work, I find myself driving to Jungkook's apartment.
Arriving at his building as early as 8 a.m. makes me realize I don't even know why I decided to come here instead of calling him.
With ginger steps, I walk to his condo and tap rapidly on the door. There is silence for a while until I tap on the door again.
Suddenly, the door jerks open from behind, revealing a half-naked man, Jungkook in nothing but a white and blue towel draped around his waist, his wet hair dripping water down to his broad chest.
Speechless.
Unable to find my voice.
Unsure of what exactly to say for appearing on his doorway at 8 in the morning when I should be on my way to work. My mouth hangs open instead. With no word. Until he speaks.
