I stared out at endless skylines made of nothing but crops of wheat. My bare feet felt the soil, and I grinned.

  I kept running and laughing, the soil sometimes dry, sometimes damp, such a weird feeling, far more entertaining than anything my feet had ever felt.

  As my feet moved towards rice fields, growing so delicately, I look down just to pluck an unruly flower, feeling the warmth of the sun as I sweat. However, I didn't feel bothered.

  I felt like this was the best moment in my tiny world.

  But why? Why am I here? I know I'm not supposed to be here. Why now? A strong presence of that day lingers, my bright smile, I still remember how happy I was.

  How I wish it was just that! How I wish that memory was just a good day of my childhood, this incredible feeling of light and freedom.

  Still, why was I there? On that exact day, out of my entire lifetime. Why that day? Maybe I had felt like that before or even went to the same place multiple times but such memories, beautiful and impeccable. That never stuck around on the mind of a child.

  Why do I remember it in such detail? Maybe it was caused by the disparity of that traumatizing day.

  It went from light and warmth to dark and cold in a couple of minutes. What I'm talking about is the sight of blood and bodies. And no, it wasn't poetic and beautiful as movies make it seem. It was like seeing life leaving me as they cold heartedly pluck every single one of my fingers, sharp, piercing pain through all of my body.

  My parents, my world and my light. It was all gone.

  What age was I exactly? Maybe five or six, yet I didn't cry, I didn't scream. I looked down for hours in shock, standing on my weak squiggly legs, until I couldn't handle anymore and had to sit down on the dirty, smelly floor. I sat on that gruesome scarlet color.

  I wish it didn't smell like something so wrong, so rotten.

  The smell was probably the reason my aunt came to see what was happening, but I like to think it was the lack of happy, playful noises that filled my world every day. She carefully opened the sliding glass door and looked at me horrified.

  It took some long hours until the police arrived.

  My world at that time was as small as it could be. We lived in a tiny village with crops all around.With family and friends at every corner, I was always showered with love and affection.

 We had a church, a little flea market, and a pharmacy but no police station. We were hours from the capital, and maybe half an hour from another village like ours.

  My aunt held me like I was her daughter, as disgusting as I was; I finally let the tears I've been holding flow, as she said calming lies that somehow comforted me.

  How many hours am I away from the wheat field? Now I sleep hearing fast cars and crying babies all night. So why in this cramped apartment I dream of all of that so vividly?

  It comes to my mind I lost track as the hours went by. As I lay down my head to sleep; I hear strident screams.