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Chapter 17 - Day 1

CHAPTER 17

"Harry, wake up......Harry, please you're shouting."

He didn't wake up and only moved slightly at my words. "Harry!" I shouted a little louder now, in desperate urge for him to wake up and stop shouting in his sleep. I pushed at him slightly, saying a final "Harry." He suddenly shot up and grabbed onto my shoulders, squeezing them tightly and staring my right in the eyes, which were on,y black pupils with no colour.

"WHAT!" he shouted, shaking my shoulders a bit. He must've realised what he was doing and quickly released me from his grip, looking sorry as he rubbed his eyes with his index fingers and thumbs. "Sorry, I didn't mean to grab you, or shout like that." I shook my head and smiled slightly, although my body was taken over from shock because he had been so violent in only a few seconds.

"You were shouting, so I had to wake you up," I nervously said, fiddling with my thumbs and looking to them as I did so.

"What?"

"You were shouting things like, "NO", and "STOP" but it was loud so I woke you." I was still nervous at this point and refrained from saying anything rude or obnoxious that could get my shoulders squeezed to death.

"Oh...." He seemed da little lost, or maybe upset as if a bad memory had come flooding back to him.

"What's up?" I asked, unwillingly.

"I had a bad dream, I suppose." He stopped, looking at my face. It was obvious I was a bit amused that a man his age could have 'bad dreams' and I hadn't made any effort not to show I felt that way. "Not a nightmare, of course. Just a dream that out me on edge a bit."

"What was it about?' I questioned, being weary of what I was saying.

"Your dad, actually."

"Huh?" I was more than confused by now and I wasn't sure how I would respond to such a thing to be told someone, merely more than a stranger, had had a dream about your..dead....dad.

"Why is it that people always put you down for your mistakes? Like if I was to make a mistake in my life everyone would be hot on that, but not on something I've done well. If I had a piece of paper in front of me, saying I had run 100 marathons, cured cancer, saved the world from natural disasters, helped advance technology even further, held millions of world records, and climbed 100 mountains, no one would care. Because there'd be a bit on the bottom saying that I made one mistake. And everyone would stare at that mistake and blank out and ignore every good thing I'd done in my life. Even the smallest of mistakes seem to overpower all the good things that people do in their lives. Now I know I'm no saint, but how can it be right to criticise my mistakes when I have done so much good too? I guess that's how the world works though. Everyone's quick to judge other people mistakes, forgetting their successes but they forget that they have mistakes too. Big and small."

I wondered what he was getting at, and I couldn't quite get my mind to a suitable explanation to what was going on in his mind.

"I didn't mean to help kill a man, not your dad. He was a loyal customer and a good man. I should've never sold him that final part, Sam. I feel so much regret for what I did."

My jaw was hung lower than normal and I could quite comprehend what was going on. I never placed the blame on Harry fully because I don't think its okay to judge or make conclusions based on small knowledge of something. But I hadn't predicted he would have felt this bad about it.

"So what was the dream about?" I asked desperate to stop the conversation of my dad. But it seems the conversation was headed further into that direction.