KILL THIS LOVE | JENLISA

Chapter 145

Jennie

The setting sun set fire to the horizon of Yongin. With my fingers clamped around the steering wheel, trembling every once in a while, I came to a dreary realization. Sometime in school, I'd learnt the term unreliable narrator, a literary phrase associated with narrators of a tale whose words may not be trusted. Whether they're liars, emotionally charged or even mentally unstable; their account of what happens in the story is to always be taken with a grain of salt.

Lisa Manoban's words had all been embellished lies, or at least ones that she had meant to be. However, it all simply couldn't have been a meticulous lie, could it? It just did not seem humanly likely to me. The entire drive I clawed my brain in desperation for tiny details that the psychopath may have let slip unknowingly.

My jaw locked in anguish, having hit a proverbial brick wall. I stole a quick, agitated glance at the rear view mirror to ensure I wasn't being followed by an agent or something like last time. Seoul was on as high alert as ever, rumours spreading of a nation-wide man-hunt for Lisa being in the works.

I hadn't heard news about Hanbin since this morning, but having been left alone with my thoughts for all this while, something in my gut screamed to me that it simply did not feel right. I had every reason to have not an inkling of faith in Hanbin anymore, yet somehow he did not fit the puzzle. The criminal psychology student in me couldn't help but think of how he just did not fit the profile of a serial killer's accomplice.

Breaking away from those thoughts, I glimpsed at the GPS as I took the turn that lied ahead, going only a few feet on the road before I pressed down on the brakes. A deep breath left my throat, as I slowly removed my hands from the wheel and craned my neck to the side. On the other end of the car's window, there stood a colossal gate; a rusting, decaying gate that served as an entrance to Yongin Psychiatric Hospital. Or at least, what remained of it.

I stared off into the building, being swept away into the past. Fragmented recollections of Ella clinging onto my frame, as we both trailed behind our mother entering these very gates, invaded my mind before I had time to realize. It was all a bit too hazy, but I remembered what it felt like seeing the hospital for the first time. Eight year old me was in part awe and part dread of the giant building that resembled a cathedral straight out of a Gothic noir movie. I could feel the tiny fingers of my sister clutching at my arms as I checked twice to make sure there weren't any gargoyles perched on top of the roof.

Snapping right back to reality, a second heavy exhale escaped my mouth. I willed myself to step out of the car, wrapping my arms around my torso. The air was getting chillier as nightfall advanced, the indigo sky quilting with twines of grey clouds. In hesitant yet resolute steps, I approached the eroding structure. Behind the gateway, there it was, ruins of what once used to be a grand piece of architecture.

In my very periphery, there was an erect laminated sign that spelt out in cursive letters, 'Yongin Psychiatric Hospital has existed on hallowed grounds since 1854. Built originally as a convent, it was converted into a sanatorium for the mentally ill in 1952'

The rest of the passage I could not make out, for time had weathered most of the sign away. Not that it mattered anyway, the internet had already told me what I needed to know the most.

The hospital stood tall until about ten years ago when a fire broke out, killing more than a hundred people inside, since which the institution was effectively shut down and its torched remains abandoned.