1

It was like a ghost that haunted me at the end of the day.

But that night was something that would live within me forever. My paintings were gone and it fucking felt like I'd lost my own existence as well.

I thought the chaos would eventually go away that day after the fire. I convinced myself that everything's gonna be okay - that sooner it would be better.

I received emails, calls, and private messages from my friends saying I should cheer the hell up. And that they were always there for me.

Well, fuck. I wouldn't be able to move on.

o0o

"You're Lawrence Amorsolo, right?"

I was brought back from my frustrated thought when my ears caught that unfamiliar approach. Currently, I was in a department store, staring at the new set of paintbrushes resting on the shelf.

"I'm sorry?" I turned to his direction and saw his ID labeled as the store manager.

He smiled and stepped towards me. "Yeah, it's you!" He had that lively smile on his face. "I'm your fan, Mr. Amorsolo. I'm lucky to see you around here."

"R-really?" I asked, unconvinced.

"Yes! Wait..." He fished his cellphone inside his pocket and smiled at me." Can we uh... have a picture together?"

"No!" The hateful voice inside me came out without my consent.

"W-why?" he asked in a vague expression.

I let out a thick exhale then lowered the hat covering my head. "I'm not that person. I even do not know him." I resisted his camera and turned to my back eventually.

From the department store, I walked straight to the church. I used to go here every time I ran out of hope. It was the same church where Ruth and I planned to get married someday.

But now, I didn't show up here for those silly reasons. I came here to show him how miserable I got. He did this to me, anyway.

"Hey, buddy..." I sat at the very last bench and flashed my sharp gazes at the huge image.

"I tried not to become wayward despite my hellish past. I'd been one of your ardent followers. I used to donate some of my paintings' sales to charity. I didn't cheat on Ruth. Now tell me, why did you let all of this happen as if I deserve this?" I whispered in my most soft tone, but I could hear the screaming of my heart. It was louder than the child's colic whine behind me.

I was hoping for sound answers. But he failed me. He didn't touch my mind. He was silent. He too was gone.

"Mr. Amorsolo?"

I raised my face and turned over my shoulder to one side. There was a skinny woman standing beside me. Though she looked quite pale, the smile painted on her face was telling me that she was fine.

"Yes?" I asked, weakly.

"I know you."

Again? I stood up and returned the cap back to my head. "Sorry, I think you've mistaken me as—"

"Thank you so much, Sir Lawrence!"

I frowned. "Why the he— I mean what are you thanking me for?"

Her smile grew wider. "I'm that beggar you've helped a year ago."

I recognized her. It was a year ago, indeed. She was this greasy beggar roaming around the church. But now she looked very neat. "Wait, where's the child now?"

"Momma!"

A boy ran toward the woman in front of me and hugged her.

I looked down. "Is that your son?"

She shifted her bright gaze to me. "Yes, Sir Lawrence. He's now able to attend school because of you."

"W-well that's good for both of you. Good luck," I said, then spun and left before she could ask me another question.

Was it God's way of informing me that I shouldn't lose hope? That I was important for others? It was a good thing I was able to assist others. However, it's a fucking irony that I couldn't even help my own self.

After a couple of minutes, I'd arrived at my apartment. This was nothing. Relatively smaller compared to Bill's house where I grew up. But better to live a simple life and be alone. At least, no one was going to dictate me what to do and what not to do.

I'm not his puppet anymore. I'm no longer that classic artwork who covers up his dirty deeds.

Still on my motorbike, I fished my gate's door inside my jean's pocket. I got off my bike and walked towards the gate when I froze literally. It was like some ice had coated my whole being as I stared at the man standing by the gate.

"Hey!" I called out. "You lost?"

He didn't turn.

"You've got the wrong gate, buddy. I live here. So back the hell of before I phone the police!"

Still, he didn't spin to face me. Hell, it was raising the irritation in my system. However, there was a huge part in me also that wondered about his presence.

And then I noticed something wrong.

He was wearing a white shirt and faded jeans, the same as what I wore now. And he had that ragged dark curls up to the shoulders exactly like mine.

"I was looking for you, Lawrence." The man whispered and spun to his heels to face me. He gave me a smile, a sincere one. But hell, that smile sent chills down my spine.

Holy shit!

I wanted to run, but I couldn't! My feet were like fixed to the ground.

This is impossible. "W-who are you?" I gritted, "Why do I look exactly like you?"

o0o

"Sir! Sir! Wake up!"

I woke up to the loud voice of the gallery's security guard. Groaning as I raised my back on the couch, I stared at him like he just made sin for postponing my sleep. Then I realized I wasn't at my house.

"What do you want?" I asked.

He looked at me, confused. "The gallery's opening will start in ten minutes. The guests are looking for you for the ribbon-cutting," he explained, still brows contracted.

"Ugh, damn..."I sighed as I raked my fingers through the curls of my hair. " Okay, okay. Just leave me for a while. I will just fix myself."

He nodded and closed the door.

When I was alone, I faced the mirror but that eerie dream was still playing in my head as I adjusted my necktie.

Who was that man in my dream?

Or should I say… my nightmare.