Gangnam, Seoul, South Korea. December 2010. 

He stands frozen at his spot in the middle of his living room, letting his eyes wander in shock which then let his brain register what he is currently witnessing.
It is a mess. The storms enters through the window that is left open, the rain striking him with all its might, passing right through and beyond him. Yet he does not move. The storm that has awaken inside him is stronger than anything that could possibly strike him at that. very. moment. 

He is numb because of what he is seeing. He is stunned with a roar inside him asking a billion dollar question,

"Is this a nightmare or not?"

He knows the answer.

He does not want to know it. 

But

He knows. 

The walls, furniture, carpet, ceiling and even the plants are showered with black and white paint. The interior of his place has always been black, white and gold. However, everything that is black is now splashed with white and the white is spotted with black while the gold has both of the colours on it. 

It is an artistic mess where the colours are screaming and complaining to him. 

Clenching his left hand in his right hand, he takes his first step slowly towards his bedroom. Something tells him that he will find out a bit more about what has happened. Although, he is not looking forward to whatever he is about to find out. His footsteps are slow and unsteady. Pushing the door aside, he sees that the same thing has happened to his bedroom. Black and white paint has embraced the entire room, splashed on everything. He sighs. In the middle of the bed, there is something that is covered with a black sheet. The fear takes over all the other emotions. Rushing towards it, he stumbles into a woven burgundy scarf that is still not complete, falls right next to the bed which makes the black sheet slide a little. He looks first on the incomplete scarf and then notices what the object on the bed is.

It is a painting.

He tries to stand hastily only to a cry a cry of pain. With this his brain announces to him that his left foot is twisted but he ignores it. 
Reaching the painting with both hands, he drags the painting towards him and then settles on the floor. The painting is so colourful and vibrant in comparison to how his flat looks like at the moment. His heart starts pounding as his hold on the edges of the painting gets harder. Looking for some more answers, he stares at it carefully only to realise that this painting is a portrait, painted in abstract form.
Then it hits him and it hits him hard.
It is, his own eyes, nose, and smile. All of his well defined sharp features are brushed with yellows, reds, blues and greens.
He is painted in colours. 
He is hidden in colours. 
His face is baring so many colours. 
He looks at the left corner of the painting. 

It says, "Hero, 2010".

His lips tremble in a struggle to keep the storm of pain inside him. 

A tiny sticky note from the back of the painting falls in his lap. His trembling fingers pick it up for him to read, 

"Title: U-Know" 

A tear traces it's way down on his cheek that is soon followed with many others. 

A whisper carrying the immense pain and guilt is scattered around the entire room, 

"J...Jae... Jaeee..."

And then, hitting all the colours, splashed in the flat as the answer to their questions, a scream with billions of emotions, echoes, 

"JAEJOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG"
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London Heathrow International airport, December 2010
 

She has suddenly collapsed in the VIP lounge.

It seems like she is having a seizure. Some of the passengers run towards the reception area to call for the medical team. The sounds of footsteps and voices filled with uncertainties and concerns in many languages are echoing around her. However, most voices are having the effect of  countless hammers, hitting her poor brain, one by one. She tries to focus on herself to get herself back to what we call "normal" again. However, she knows that she has pushed herself to limits.

AGAIN.  

This cannot be happening right now... We have to stay strong. Please... My dear self, we can do it.

She pleads in her heart to herself but gets no answer.

 
She is unaware that unconsciously she is trying to reach out for someone with her hand, asking, 

"Is... someone... there?"

She is being punished for not listening to herself again. 

I am sorry. Please.

She makes yet another plea to her inner self but still no answer. 

One could see how hard it is for her to breath but one could not see the struggle she is having between her and herself. She clutches her hand around her neck and squeezes her shirt, repeating again, 

"Is someone...... thhhere?"

An unexplainable pain hits her from the spine to the back and the centre of her brain which then spreads through her entire body. Her face could tell that she was in immense pain. Breathing heavily, she  reaches the edges of the chair that she was sitting on. She rests her head on the edge of the chair and tries to catch her breath, whispering, 

"Is......sahhh...", and she is interrupted. 

A strong hand that she does not recognise at all, holds her trembling hand. Someone then answers her in the most gentle voice that she has ever heard, 

"Yes, I am here".