Prologue

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'Five years after the incident . . . '

      A CHORUS OF VOICES chanting my name drills my temple in an agonizingly, lulling melody

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A CHORUS OF VOICES chanting my name drills my temple in an agonizingly, lulling melody. My nails rake desperately against my scalp as if trying to dig up a vital reminiscence of nothingness.

     "Yeonjun ?" deep breaths, I say to myself, but I only seem to choke on them at every air I take.

     My mind goes numb and my eyes fog in a stinging sensation. I'd hate to admit the damage it caused. Can you blame me ? If I saw that shit coming I would have wrung its neck and dragged it with me to hell.

     "Choi Yeonjun !" delicate fingers graze over my wet cheek that I'm forced to look up. Her eyes read me with pity. I don't want to be pitied. It makes me seem defeated.

     "Aren't you ?" she smiles. What ? "You said so yourself, when we first met." I lean my cheek further onto the palm of her hand, stitching my brows together and conveyed every emotion I felt in that moment, the inferno I'd once refused to spill. "Where does it hurt ?" She asks.

     With shaky breaths, I sob out a short, "Here," and take her hand to place it against my heart where's it's been hysterically aching for freedom. I snap my attention towards the direction of a deeper voice shouting my name; towards the foggy clouds, my heart clenches tighter than ever before but as I glance back at the girl, she's gone.

     Instead I'm met with water blurring my vision and the liquid spreading a burning wild-fire around my lungs. Before I could take another large inhale, I'm pulled to a cold, tiled surface with more cries trembling my brain.

     "Yeonjun !" Dr. Jin shouts. "Aish !—Elaine ! Come on, Choi, stay with me for just a few,"

     "She's not real !" I bang my fist against the tub and desperately scratch on my throat in hopes to let air enter. "She's not— . . . real . . ."

     "This again ?" A woman with bright red hair matching her stiletto acrylics jabs my wrists together in place over her plastic chest. "Stop it ! Junnie, please. Your mom's here, Seokjin's here, I'm here,"

     I shake my head, weakly trying to yank myself away from their tight grips. "I want her—"

     "We can't be her." Elaine sighs heavily, "but I'll give you more love than she ever gave you.

     Darling, I may not be perfect but I'm real."

- - -

Five years. Five painfully long years of not being able to stitch up the mental wound I don't even know why, when, or how I got it. Family and friends have also made an attempt. It all was and still is futile.

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