Serein

Lily

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

He gasped as he woke up from sleep, feeling the cold rain falling on his face. He hastily pushed the ground to help himself up, capturing the scent of the mud and burnt wood that covered half of his face. He roamed his eyes around and widened them, clearly bewildered.

'My bedroom?' He asked no one between his thoughts.

The books, bed, socks, wardrobe, and the mess were all in the same place as the last time he remembered. Only this one was different. It was messier, dirtier and . . . older. Most of the parts of his bedroom was blackened. Or burnt was the best description. The ceiling he once knew that had a pastel blue paint on now had a large hole that looked like it was caused by a massive fire through the years without care. The time was around dawn and it was not just the sky that was giving light through the hole on the roof but it was also the moonlight that at least helped him see what was in the disarrayed room. One of the glass windows were shattered and broken glasses scattered across its narrow sill to the mud-covered floor. The classical guitar he had when he was fifteen-not burnt-was on the corner of his room, still waiting for someone to play it for years.

He slowly went to check his books which were only a meter away from him. The books were covered in thick dust and were a bit musty but were miraculously still in good shape. The side of the shelf had been burnt but wasn't enough to affect the books inside that area. He held his left hand up and pointed two of his fingers to pull the top of one of the books from the shelf, He Conquers by Rico Yan, 2015. Confusion manifested on his face as he read the title and the author in bronze print on the spine of the book. He hasn't read the book. He had been a massive Rico fan and was quite sure that Rico didn't published any book with that title. The author published only one that year. But this wasn't the title. It was a dialogue in one of Rico's books.

After a few blows and rubs off the dust, he noticed that the rest of the book cover was plain black. He opened it and scanned, ascertaining that almost everything about it was the same as the one he had read by Rico Yan in the same year. The story ended with the aliens achieving their conquer to our planet, instead of having the protagonist to gun the alien leader in the head down. It was a different book. 'Weird', he thought. He put the book back.

He was certain that this was his room. But what happened to it? If it wasn't, then how could anyone explain the exact bracelet which has been given by someone to him that was laying on the same spot on the small table where the lamp was placed?

But he thought it was long lost, the bracelet. It meant a lot to him. He examined the purple and black laces that was used to pull to make the bracelet tighter or looser along with the small wooden beads. In front of the bracelet's center bead, which was wider than the rest, was a carving of a name he could never forget.

"Lily." He read it out loud.

And with that, the world changed too quickly that he barely even noticed.

His 'normal' bedroom emerged like a movie scene. It wasn't covered with moss and mud anymore, not even burnt. It was all clean. The pastel blue ceiling was whole, as good as new. Yellow sunlight was already emitting from the glass windows which weren't broken down to pieces.

As the questions sprung up, he blinked and shook his head.

He was still standing on the same place, holding the bracelet in his hand like it was the only thing he needed to get from that world. Because as soon as he had gotten it in his hands, he was back. He wore it. Still, nothing stopped him from forgetting about what just happened.

He heard the doorknob clicked.

"West."

West rested his eyes on a dark haired man whose bright auburn eyes looked kind and sincere. The man was wearing an overcoat. The two people in the bedroom almost looked identical, however the other one was younger.

"You need to stop locking yourself in here for once." His father said.

"I've killed people." West replied calmly.

"I'll get you to finish your secondary and college. If I won't, you won't be able to live any longer than me. I just lost my job, West. We were already broke when I had it. And you have done nothing." He said, ignoring West's response.

West sighed. His father was right. It was his own choice to lock himself inside. He has studied primary at home and was about to finish secondary, but had done nothing to prove his support to his father. Yet he had also felt remorseful about his crimes throughout the years. He wished to be gone right at every moment his father lets out a word about it. He felt so worthless because he had only brought trouble to everyone.

"I don't know how to stop it from happening, Dad." This time, West heard his voice shake, as he pulled the teal curtain to the side of the window. The annoying sound of horns that casted out from angry vehicles meddled across the street to his room. He almost jerked when a warm hand was placed on his left shoulder. His father had never done that a lot.

"It's never too late." His father said.

West glanced to look at him. His father disappeared. West then realized he was only zoning out. His father had died two months ago.

West imagined the trouble happening in front of him. His eyes curled to apprehension. He had been depressed his whole life because of his not-so-typical limitations, but this was the time for him to stop trying to stop getting consumed by them. Because he knew he would never be happy.

He snapped his fingers. A small string of scintillating fire emanated between them. The sparks danced as he was motioning his fingers around. West could feel it's heat but it wasn't affecting him like it should. He could control it, but not his emotions. Emotions control him.

While examining, it went out. He snapped again, like he was lighting up an invisible lighter. A larger yellow orange fire gleamed from his palm. It's light danced on the center of both his grey iris like how a mysterious phoenix burns itself to death. Seconds later, it dissolved into a steady blue glow. Careful not to burn anything, his eyes widened like this glow never happened before. It became larger and larger for a moment until it became completely white, then dwindled and went out. Perplexed by the different flare, he tried to do it again. But it wasn't the same. He decided to brush it off. He shouldn't be interested about it. It had ruined his life.

Flame already was his life.

If we knew about it, we call it curse.