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na jaemin pov
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I was falling.
Fast.
My eyes were shut, but I could see the world spinning. It was dark, cold, and every single sense of mine began shutting down slowly. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was black. When I glanced down, I saw red.
A pool of blood.
I screamed, but no sound came out. I felt chills rising from the bottom of my spine to the top of my head. The sight of blood, the sight of this red, sticky substance brought tears to my eyes and panic to my senses.
I wanted to halt the fall, but I couldn't. There was nothing to hold onto. I felt lightweight, as if I was a feather, but it wasn't a good feeling. Instead, it increased my anxiety and my skin turned numb.
Where was I?
Am I dead?
I tried to think about what happened, but my thoughts were foggy and vague. I could only see segments...
I saw a crowd of unidentified people laughing at me. They weren't my age, they were men. Men in their twenties, dressed in black, dripping with blood. They were in hysterics. I just didn't know what they were laughing about.
I saw a girl. She was young and fair, but I didn't know who she was. She was very pretty and had a fierce look painted across her face. She was trapped. In a net. She was looking around her surroundings, but I could slowly see the panic that starting etching her features. I just couldn't remember who she was! The deja vu was hitting me like a train and it drove me crazy. Suddenly, the image of the girl started disappearing, like mist, and in return, I saw something else.
Seven boys. I could only remember one of them: it was me. I looked slightly younger in this vision, and definitely happier. I didn't recognize the six other boys, but they looked awfully familiar. We were playing in the streets, playing with water guns, our hair soaked and our smiles brighter than the sun. It hurt me not knowing who these boys were, these boys who were supposedly making me feel better about life in general.
That image blew away like ash and a different image replaced it.
In this image, I was definitely younger. Maybe around seven or eight years old. A crowd of people were surrounding me, like the first image, but these people were all my age or a little older. They were staring at me in shock and disgust. Some were moving away from me. They were trying to avoid me.
What did I do?
Did I do something wrong?
Suddenly, voices were engulfing me.
"Look, he killed that squirrel," someone spoke, fear tangled in his voice.
