First Sight (Discontinued)

Chapter 1: teens

"Is my wife alright...?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Deone. We can save one of them only... your daughter or your wife."

"What?! No! I can't! I don't't want to do that..."

The two adult male voices faded in the mind of the young boy, rather, the child - he was only three years old - who was standing in front of the two men, trying to comprehend what they were saying.

One of the men, tall and muscular, kept glancing at a door with his brown eyes - which were sparkling with tears - trying to get a glimpse of the woman, his wife, who was inside of the operating room.

This brown-haired and bearded man was the little child's father. The child looked at his father with a worried expression. "Dad?" He asked, but was given no attention.

The child then looked at the other man, dressed in a white coat with a surgical mask hanging from one of his ear and some sort of cap - a shower cap? - on his head. The little one could figure out with his small and young mind that the latter had to be a doctor.

But that was about all the kid could understand.

He heard a few confusing and new words like "abortion" from time to time but he didn't understand the situation. He just couldn't. And his father, who seemed to be confused and stressed himself, refused to give his son any answer or attention.

His mind solely dwelled on the condition of the love of his life and the new life that they had created. The bearded man grabbed his head in his hands; a million thoughts about his wife - her short blond hair, her piercing blue eyes - went through his head all at once.

Finally, the man had muttered something to the doctor. But suddenly, everything started to fall apart; the voices started to get distorted... the sounds around them had faded... the vision, a blur of lights and faces, hurtful to the eyes. But it didn't seem to bother anyone except the young child. A strong, hellish buzz filled his head as he held it in both hands.

Then he woke up.

*****

Gasping for air, Alex shot up from his bed, sitting up straight, and huffed. It had been a nightmare. But it was no ordinary nightmare for he'd had it everyday in his life of seventeen years. One would think that he should've been used to the terrible vision he had during his sleep considering how long and how many times he'd had it. But to him, it was still fresh, like an open wound - freshly stitched but cut over and over just to be stitched again.

However, he was used to being left with that feeling after waking up. Part of that feeling was relief - it hadn't been happening in real life, it was a one time thing only - and the other part being a mix of negative emotions.

That once young child, now teenager, knew well how to deal with the aftermath; he followed just a motto, his motto - get up and move on. Though he hadn't been successful in doing so, he tried, at least. So he touched the floor with his feet and dragged himself to the bathroom to get fresh.