Chapter 11: Papa and Mama Should Not Fight (3)
I had a dream. It was different from the usual. In this dream I strolled down the corridor hall. It was a long corridor, wide and endless. There seemed to be no end. There was no light too. It was darkness. The only light penetrating through was the moonlight. On this wide, endless darkness, I was the only one walking.
How long have I been walking? It felt like forever.
At last, I hear the sound of someone other than me.
The sound was low, but heavy enough to recognize it was footsteps. It was sharp and the tapping of the shoe hitting the ground seemed like it was a pointed shoe.
I turn my eyes around to the directional sound of the shoes, and see someone walking closer.
I look down. The shoes of the man looked quite expensive. I examined his bottoms. It was a well-ironed black pants. As for his upper body, he wore a white visible shirt.
The distance between me and that man was close, so very close. I stopped walking and looked at his face. He had blonde hair, but was cut short and neatly.
I wanted to take a closer look at his features, but strangely enough, I couldn’t see through it well. He had red lips and it seemed blurry for a short moment. His mouth then moved and said…
I woke up from the dream, gasping intermittently in breaths. There was tears in my eyes.
Senna.
It was “that” name.
If I’m correct, that was the name of Josh’s mother. But.. who was the blonde-haired man I saw in my dream, and why did he call out Senna’s name? Why her name? Was the dream related to my lost memory? Why can’t I remember…?
I carefully pulled out my arm as I softly called the little child’s name.
The first day spent in the mansion felt nice. I had a good time with Josh.
Speaking of which, where is John? He’s not here. It’s strange. I’d have thought that I’d hear his screaming voice the moment he realized the three of us had slept in the same bed. Where did he go?
I then shut my eyes slowly, going back to yesterday’s events. The memory came flooding in.
I was brought to John’s mansion, following the little child who called me his mother. Then, later in the night, John had gotten drunk and had mistaken me as “Senna”. I remember how he called in her name in a sorrow-like voice.
And… then… I remembered how his lips almost touched mine. Those red lips contrasting his black hair… No, wait! Why am I remembering that?
I quietly walked out of the bed reluctantly, and covered Josh with blanket. I stared at his soft face. He had blonde hair, long golden eyelashes, and features like that of a doll. He’ll grow up becoming the center of many girl’s adoration. This I know for certain.
Josh held on tightly to the hem of my sleeves. Why does such sight hurt my heart?
I carded Josh’s hair back and forth and in return his grip on me loosened as a faint smile was painted on his face.
Then a voice from behind disturbed the quiet peace.
I turned my head towards the direction of the sound. There stood John leaning against the door which was opened slightly. Who knows how long he had stood there.
He trudged forward and sat on the bed, next to me. He stared at Josh’s hand clutching mines.
I replied curtly while examining his face. I could not find a hint of his drunken state from last night. It would seem that he had taken a bath and changed his clothes thus getting rid of the smell of alcohol. He smelled nice.
I thought it was fun to get John riled up.
John’s voice grew loud but he quickly shut his mouth. In the end, it was futile because Josh had woken up. The child spoke loudly while he rubbed his eyes.
Our mouths were shut tight again.
This kid…