Our fate woven in the sky《Zhanyi》

《Loop 1》

"We're just strangers with some memories . . ."

*** 

"Gege?" I held my breath, almost believing I heard the voice of the little ghost boy, my eyes burning. 

"Gege?" My throat felt dry at the realization it was him. 

"I- I am here," I said, sounding dry from all the crying. 

Something flickered in front of my eyes before I saw a little flame coming out of nowhere. 

A scream tumbled out of my mouth when I saw a shadow in front of me. 

I realized it was the little ghost boy when our eyes crossed paths. 

Only this time did I take a closer inspection of him, realizing he was wearing an old worn-out school uniform I couldn't recognize. And the uniform seemed to be a little too big for him, the clothes hanging loose around his body. 

His expression was delicate and soft, like a porcelain doll that could fall by a blow of the wind. 

In the flickering light of the candle that couldn't enlighten the whole room, the young boy in front of me looked ethereal. 

Although he had the body of a young boy around the age of six to seven, his eyes told stories of centuries-old secrets, waiting to have a listener. 

"Gege, are you afraid of the dark?" His voice was light, but his eyes cold like frost, different from the boy that had been teasing me only a few hours ago. 

His words suddenly awakened an old memory my mind had buried away through the years, something that had faded through time. 

The world was dark in front of my eyes no matter the number of times I blinked; no light would get shown. 

I felt my body tremble, the cold creeping beneath my skin, making its master of my body as I breathed air into my hands, rubbing them against each other. 

My tears had dried up after having cried for almost an hour straight; only now the fear started settling in, the darkness hugging my vision, slowly also clouding my rational thinking. 

All I had done was tell him about the scary lady in the corner of the room. 

She had been standing there, her long raven black hair falling in front of her face, a simple plain white dress hanging over her body, her skin white as snow. 

Something about the way she stood there, she radiated a coldness out, even though it was beginning spring, with her gaze lingering on me -even if I could not see it, I sensed it- it felt like the middle of winter. 

I shivered, my hand touching my cheek that no longer hurt; the pain had transferred to my scar as another scar while I recalled the stinging burn, followed by his endless screams of madness. 

It was a stream of curses mixed with questions like why I was like her when he never told me who the 'she' was; instead, he always chose to punish me and lock me away. 

The closet was tiny, and I had little room to move, so I cradled myself, rocking back and forth, imaging two warm arms around my body, protecting me, keeping me warm as a lonely tear found its way down my cheek. 

It wasn't like this was the first time, I told myself, trying to encourage myself as I wrapped my thin clothes closer, pushing myself back against the closet, knowing there was no way out. 

There was no way to get out of this closet, escape the pain, or breakthrough this endless cycle. 

And even if there was a way, I had no energy left to fight anymore.