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HER CHEEK WAS KISSED BY A FOREIGN PAIN that Jisu had not felt in a long time, especially one that was delivered by the hand of the woman she despised the most. And while the pain lingered like a cruel lover's caress even despite the best efforts of the biting morning breeze, Jisu's eyes had also begun to sting with fresh tears that were threatening to spill.
She would not cry. But the pain was unbearable and Jisu was exhausted.
The self-inflicted gash on her left palm ebbed into a dull pain–the girl at least had some sense to wrap it with some fabric to stop the steady flow of blood. The scrapes that danced along her knuckles still stung and whenever she clenched her fist it felt like she'd ripped the wound open again.
It was not this pain that she was tired of. This had only been the smallest particle of contribution to the gaping wound that had slowly been tearing itself further apart over the years. And over these years it had been her ugly and poor attempts to stitch it up that were so taxing.
Jisu had nowhere else to go. Like how it was from the start, she belonged to the relentlessly cruel and savage streets. Streets that spared no love and allowed none to harbour. Perhaps that was what led to the downfall of Chin-hwa and Jisu's tragic love. Love that was never meant to be.
The tears had come down faster than the girl had anticipated. She bowed her head down and trained her eyes to the ground, letting them fall to the pavement. If she could not stop herself from crying then, to save face, she could at least swallow her sobs.
Why couldn't she let it hurt less? She hated herself for being so sensitive. Ever since she was young they'd always chided and mocked her for crying over the most absurd little things. They'd always said she'd done it for attention. Perhaps she did. But there were times when this was untrue. Sometimes she found herself unable to shed a tear.
Jisu snapped her head back up. If she was going to cry she wanted to at least not look like some pathetic girl. She at least wanted to look like some tragically beautiful damsel in distress.
Walking in the streets displaying her beautifully pitiful stricken face had indeed earned her a few curious and scathing glares from a range of ordinary people. The housewives rushing to get the freshest produce from the markets, spared a look at her before turning to their friends, murmuring. Old men and women gawked at her as she strode past.
A group of schoolgirls, younger than Jisu, had caused her to stiffen and pause her stride. They were laughing with each other, linking arms together before one of the girls ceased her laughter upon seeing Jisu. The girls glared at her before scurrying past her, their moods soured and speculative whispers trailed.
