Palon dreamed he returned to that night again.
The sound of gunfire kept ringing in his ears, and he could only hide under the bed, trembling.
Everything outside was unknown, and his strongest support, brother Joan, was already dead.
He didn't know what kind of fate awaited him.
The miserable outcomes of countless losing families in conflicts flashed through his mind, and he could only fearfully stuff his fist into his mouth to avoid making sounds, comforting himself that he wouldn't be discovered hiding there.
Then, he was viciously dragged out from under the bed by a pair of strong hands.
Palon woke up.
He sat on the bed, breathing heavily, his eyes were already red; he almost suffocated to death in the dream.
He hurriedly grabbed a bottle of alcohol nearby, took two gulps, and finally calmed down a bit.
Yet, thinking about the things he had to do tomorrow, his heart still kept racing.
Can he really do it?
————————
A new day has arrived.
