My daydreamer(English version)

☆~Chapter 1~ ☆

Bethany—

Every day starts the same way: wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, come home, sleep. My life is nothing special. As I walked away from school, I remembered that I had to pick up some bread from Mrs. Hazel—she's the only one in town who treats me well, and she bakes the best bread I've ever tasted.

I arrived at the bakery, and as I opened the door, the smell of warm bread washed over me.

"Good morning, Bethany! How are you?" Mrs. Hazel smiled warmly at me.

"Fine. I'm here to pick up the bread for my mom."

"Of course, it'll be right out!" She heads off to get the bread. Mrs. Hazel is the only one who doesn't look at me with disgust or pity because of my scar; she and my mother have been close friends since I was a little girl. Sometimes she'd come visit us and bring bread or cakes, but with the arrival of winter, tourists come flooding in, and she can't come see us anymore.

"Here you go, Bethany—fresh out of the oven!" Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts as she hands me the bag of bread. I take the bag and thank her, then head out and make my way home.

I finally get home and set the bag down on the table.

"Welcome home, Bethany. How was school today?" my mother's voice calls from the kitchen. "Same as always, Mom," I say as I climb the stairs to put my backpack down.

                                                                       ☆~ 4 hours later ~☆

As I brush my teeth before going to sleep, I look at myself in the mirror—at my reflection, my disgusting reflection. I run my finger over the burn scar on the right side of my face—the cause of all my pain. Sometimes I think it would be better if I didn't exist, so people wouldn't have to force themselves to laugh at me or put on that fake, pitying smile when I walk down the street or meet new people. I snap out of my reverie and go put on my pajamas, tie my hair back in a loose ponytail, and slip under the covers. Before falling asleep, I whisper silently, "Good night, Dad."

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I've already gotten used to my blurry dreams, which lack the beauty they once had. But this time it's different—I find myself sitting on a vast green plain illuminated by the night sky.

I stand up to look around. "Hey, welcome! I haven't seen anyone else here in ages." Looking around, I find the source of the sound. A boy—he must be about 16—is lying on the grass. As I get closer, I can see more details about him. He has long hair tied back with a hair tie; two strands of his bangs are dyed blue and red. He's wearing black gloves, and his eyes are sage green.

Noticing my silence, he speaks again: "Come sit here next to me; otherwise, I can't see you."

I hesitate a little, but then I sit down next to him, knowing it's a dream. He doesn't smile that pitying smile that everyone else gives; instead, he stares at my scar. He simply smiles. "I like the color of your eyes—they remind me of the night sky." Surprised by his compliment, I mumble a simple "thank you." "You're welcome. What's your name?" "Bethany. What about you?" He smiles. "Kilyan. It means 'brilliant-minded warrior.'" As he says it, he stifles a laugh. "I don't know what my name means; I've never looked it up." "Don't worry, I have a book on names right here." A faint light appears in his hands, which then intensifies as the book suddenly materializes. He looks at me and laughs at my surprised expression. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever seen a book appear out of thin air?"                                                                                                   "No, not really." As I speak, he starts flipping through the book until he stops on a page and points to a name. "Here, Bethany—it means 'the home where the heart dwells.' That's a beautiful meaning."  

"Yeah, the sky is magnificent. Do you come here often?" I ask, watching the moon shine above us                                               

"I always come here. I love how peaceful this place is, and the refreshing night air." He looks at me. "Would you like to be my friend? You know, there's no one else here."

It's the first time anyone has ever asked me that in my whole life. The kids avoid me, not to mention the boys who laugh at me in the hallways. I think he's joking, but he's looking at me with such pure gentleness that he doesn't seem like the kind of boy who would ever hurt anyone.                                                                                  

"Sure—" Suddenly, he takes my hand and holds it between his. His touch feels so real, even though I know this is a dream.

"Thank you so much, I'm so happy." I look at him, and he has the same smile on his face as a child whose mother just bought him candy.

"Have you never had a friend?"

"No... I've never had one."

"Well, you're lucky—now you have me."

"Of course."

Suddenly, a flash of light blinds me, and I close my eyes for a second. When I open them, I'm back in my room. The first light of morning brushes my face. I look at the alarm clock—it's five in the morning. I get out of bed and go to open the window to cool off. The morning air wakes me up completely, and I go to drink a glass of water.

As I walk to the kitchen, I think about how realistic that dream was. When Kilyan took my hand, it felt so real and true—I could feel the warmth of his hands...

I don't know why, but I grabbed a notebook and wrote down the whole dream so I'd remember it, even though I know I'll never see Kilyan again. I'd tried other times to write down the dreams I had, but they weren't anything special—except for the one about Dad... I took a big sip of water and kept writing; the sun was about to rise, and the first orange rays were illuminating the pages of the notebook.