9

Why? Why was there a dead body? Why did I have to be the one to find it? Why was he killed? And why, oh why the hell did I see that human in colour? In vibrant, warm shades.

My mind reeled, a sickening pit in my stomach that shook me with each new step I took away from the alleyway. It seems I'm not immune to the effect of death on the living, either.

Just forget about it. Just forget. Forget it, erase it out of my memories.

Even when I told myself again and again to just destroy all reminder of that scene, my mind and body wouldn't listen to me. Why couldn't I just forget? It would be so much better had I never seen that man, laying on the ground with a knife and-

I couldn't stop my mind, which replayed every detail explicitly, burning it into my eyes. Red sweater, almost disguising the blood it was stained with. Blue jeans, tight around the atrocious twisting of his legs. And a knife, a few meters away, tossed to the ground with a red trail circling around it.

I was scared. Scared of what I saw, what had happened to the victim. Scared of meeting the same fate, scared of who that guy even was.

Without watching where my body was heading, my sneakers trudged along the streets, scratching up my soles. 

But my mind were still at the scene of murder, blood and the alleyway. And the colour. A mystery. There had only been one person I had seen in colour before, a friend long since forgotten, his name barely a part of my past. But.. it couldn't be him. Because he had already died long ago.

Hadn't he?