I was barely six at the time, but I realized that something was wrong with me. I remember that I was surrounded by blood. My mom was holding me tightly in her arms, crying into my head as blood was starting to transfer from me to her. My dad was frantically pacing through the room on a phone call. I remember not understanding what was going on. Why were my parents reacting the way they did towards me? Why was my mom crying? Why was Dad shouting at the phone? Where was the blood coming from? And...why was everything black and white? Eleven years have passed since that incident. I'm an angsty seventeen-year-old. And I'm always covered in bandages for...reasons. My thoughts were disrupted by the continuous beeping of those dumb ECG Machines, and by the incessant noise made by the rolling wheels of the patient monitors. God knows how much I hated it at the hospital. And because he loved me so freaking much, I was always there. For the past eleven years, I'd have to come to the hospital, either for a check-up or for something else. And I hated it every time. I got weird glances from the other patients and staff, and the noise was just too much. And let's not forget we have a curfew. I'm almost an adult and I have to go to my bed when I'm told like some brat. Whenever I got the chance, I'd sneak out of my room sometime after curfew and go to the back of the hospital where a hill flooded with poppies was. It was the one place that no one visited. Or so I thought. On the top of that hill, I saw him. He was just standing there at the center. He stood there and stared so intently intently at the moon. The plan was to ignore him, but when he cooked his head towards me, I felt like time had frozen in place. From a young age, I realized that for some reason I could no longer see colors. I saw the world in monochrome, but that night I saw it clearly. Your pale blue eyes, and how they shone so magnificently on that moonlit night up on that hill.