ethereal | park jimin | ✓

chapter 2 bloody snow angel

Standing at the cashier is an exhausted worker with the void resting in his eyes. His fit body leans against the counter as he takes my order.

"So that's a ten-piece chicken nugget meal with small fries?" he repeats, lifting his head to meet my gaze.

I nod and hand him my card.

He takes it and scans it without another word. He hands it back to me and offers a weak smile. "Thank you," he says before handing me the receipt. "Your number is 613."

"Thank you," I emphasized before stepping out of line. After all, he is the one doing the work, I am the one supposed to be thanking him. I wait patiently beside the pick-up window and watch as the workers create my meal in the back of the restaurant.

I sneak a peek at my phone and confirm I have fifteen minutes before the McDonald's lobby closes. The drive-through is open twenty-four hours but the lobby closes at one in the morning. I feel a pang of sympathy for those who have to stay late. Personally, I don't think I would be able to survive working in the fast-food industry so I respect those who do.

In the back of my mind, my mother's voice whispers her warnings and predictions about my life if I don't listen to her advice. "You are making a mistake. You should become a lawyer like your father. You would do well as a lawyer. You don't want to end up like those wash-outs, do you? Why don't you ever listen to me?"

Because I am sick of you trying to control my life, I reply internally.

I moved three days away from home to escape their hovering. It wasn't enough to shut them out entirely since cell phones still exist, but this feels like the lesser of the two evils.

"Number six thirteen!"

I snap out of my tired daze and move towards the pick-up counter. I take my bag and find its contents still hot from the fryer. I bow my head to the young man out of gratitude before leaving the restaurant.

I push open the door with my hip and step out onto the sidewalk. I gulp down a blast of midnight air and feel it freeze inside of my lungs. I find it difficult to breathe when facing the wind so I turn my head away. The wind sweeps across the McDonald's parking lot and carries tiny knives of snow in its brisk movement. The black sky sparkles with snowflakes but the beauty of winter never comes without its bitter cold edge.

The only warmth I feel emanates from the brown paper bag in my arms.

The parking lot is layered with hardened ice and tire-tracked snow patches. It glistens underneath the nearby streetlights with its revealing danger. I am careful as I walk across the street, mindful not to slip.

The hazy yellow glow of the McDonald's sign shines with an ominous atmosphere from behind the veil of snow. The unnatural neon light reflects off the icy ground and flickers occasionally, threatening to vanish under the cover of night.

Thankfully, I reached my car without any incident. I reach into my jacket pocket to search for my keys. I pull them out by the chain but they slip through my fingers and clatter onto the ground. I sigh sharply and kneel down to pick them up. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness in the shadow of the car and I find myself staring at a flash of red in the fresh layer of snow.

My hand hesitates in the air.

What is that?

I quickly grab my keys and stand up from the ground, my eyes lingering on the scarlet stain. I frown to myself as an unsettling feeling crawls through my stomach. I shake my head at it, convincing myself that it is anything but blood.

And I won't stick around to find out.

I unlock my car and set my bag on the passenger's seat. I begin to enter my car when a hand snatches the crook of my arm, nearly yanking my shoulder from its socket.