"One flick, the death switch turned off and my woeful life ended just like that."
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BOOK TWO OF DEATH SERIES.
Romping around, his tender lips wreathed in a wide smile-that would touch one's soul like a sweet sense of a light feather-and a voluptuo...
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It is said that the kindest and purest humans suffer the most.
I am not talking about myself.
For the sins I had committed, gruesome and atrocious, there would be no redemption. Wrapped up in the endless loathsome that I had for myself, a sort of disgust, had I deemed that my life had more meaning to what I had judged influenced by the deep grudge, I wouldn't have been here, telling you the woeful story of my life.
I was talking about Minhee.
It was unimaginably hard to ignore her presence and the untold truth that had always been unraveled, settled between the two of us like a giant curtain, masquerading away the barbarisms and I had feared with fidgety fingers, curling toes, and anxious soul that the day that curtain would fall, I would be left naked to my heart, remorse, and shame eating me eternally if she ever despised me for who I was, the unfortunate son of the killers of her father.
Guilty heart and yearning for peace, I had begun to spend time with her, conversing with her, listening to her unusually contagious laugh. Oh Minhee treated me as her friend—and I did too—despite knowing that I had taken the scholarship that she desperately required and if I had not known anything better, this should have been sufficient as a reason for her to hate me but she didn't because she was the kindest and purest soul, gifted to a human body nevertheless, she was hurting, I knew yet her face deceived even the slightest hint of grief and sorrow, living as if everything existed the way she desired it to be, perfect.
This amazing trick, which I had called 'The Pretend Mask', was what I had learned from her and proceeded to apply in my life like her, but perhaps, I was completely unaware of the fact that she was stronger than me from inside, she could handle surviving like this but I couldn't and thus I had died.
Survival of the fittest, you know.
Only those survive who show the necessary changes and unhindered conviction in them, the rest perish just like me, and the reason being, Oh Minhee had a conviction to survive, her mother, paralyzed, lying on the bed motionless was the reason she was surviving while I had no such particular reason to live.
In short, Oh Minhee was what I could have never been.
I remember the look on her face when I used to tease her for every funny or embarrassing thing she had done like one time she had run around the corridors at school in search of me, screaming obnoxiously loud that she had gotten a role for the annual drama and right then when she spotted me, came dashing and had unfortunately slipped, falling face first on the ground and flashing, ahem, a bit of her baby blue underwear as her skirt had ridden up which everyone in the hallway watching the scene unfold had found incredibly hilarious.
"It's not funny!" she had stomped her foot angrily, face red with profound mortification.
The look on her face was unforgettable. It was ridiculously funny when her tone turned querulous, cheeks red as a tomato and her lower lip had drawn up, giving her, not a joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression.
After that, for one entire week, she couldn't help but continuously bellyache and then would bloat her chest high and say that it didn't matter, nonetheless, occasionally galled, she'd sigh so deeply embarrassed that she would bury her face in her hands and mutter that she would never wear baby blue knickers again.
