You, my best friend, are very similar to me. Even when we belong to two different worlds. You, my best friend, are the reason I was granted life and life whole, and there is nothing that I had left out. You, my best friend, are the reason the stars hug regularly, bringing in every night a warmth never before seen by me.
Sihyeon never knew her heart could show so much of its presence.
She knew it for a brat, that was for certain, living off on its own like it belonged nowhere and throwing Sihyeon in its fires regularly like she had no say in what to feel and what not to feel. However, she still never knew it could be so dramatic, and not one of the many Shakespeare plays she had spent her childhood reading matched the loud noise her heart made right there and then.
Sihyeon knew it was far from a good choice to take a seat in her car rather than be home, but she could not find it in her to go back or even seek Yun and Mia's presence; after all, she felt angry and discontented beyond reason, and she despised herself before all else, so she figured there was no place for her in either homes.
It was not her own reflection on the past few hours that had her reaching that conclusion, but merely Yeonjun's words. Sihyeon knew they were true, and harder yet, she knew Siwoo was not the type of child to use aggression, unless, of course, he had been driven to the last of his limits.
She had never once seen the kid angry. Upset, crying, complaining, yes; however, angry, uncontrollable, or severe? She could not recall even a false memory with which her heart could settle.
She knew that if her child was to hit someone, hurt someone, it would only be because they had done so, or worse, first, and Sihyeon despised herself before all else at that.
She did not she could feel so terrified of her own skin, and she did not know if she had ever felt that much of a strong urge to rub at it, to scratch it until the guilt that strapped itself there would cease.
Guilt, that was, the last thing Sihyeon imagined she could feel.
All she remembered of her experience with it was far behind her hours, too long into the seven past years, when her family found out what type of person she really was.
It was their cluelessness then that hid that feeling from her, but once she was looked at with contempt and despise at what was her unjustifiable deeds, she started to be wary of such regret, and she remembered only a few bits, but they were enough to remind her of how painful regret and guilt were rather than all else.
She knew she could deal with hatred, and she knew she could deal oh so fairly with anger; she also knew it was no far target to manage confusion, but she had only seen guilt no number of times, and she had no idea how to rid herself from it.
Above all, Sihyeon's headache multiplied, and even though she had that possibility in mind, she had shrugged it, thinking that there was no worse than where it had already been.
Yet there was.
Sihyeon wanted to shrug her head off her shoulders and get it all over with, but it was not the mere thought that was going to help her, and it defied her past anger with herself with even more so now that she was going no where near sleep, but only stepping farther.
She could not even remember if she had fallen asleep in her car; there was not much sense to who or where she was then, but she figured that if the hours were to be so tormentingly slow, then it only meant that she had not tasted sleep on the tip of her lids at all.
Sihyeon knew Yeonjun was right, more often then she thought him to be, and her ringtone was further proof of it all.
When her phone rang, the first thing Sihyeon thought of was that she wanted to see her phone follow the dust rather than pick it up; she remembered so well choosing the ringtone for some type of twisted reason years ago - twisted, that was what Taehyung always called her, and everything related to her - but then as she sat in her car, feeling a disturbing heat iron her entire skin with the lack of energy, she could not remember at all why she had chosen that ringtone ow why she had a phone to begin with; all she wanted was to slam it alongside her head to the nearest window.
YOU ARE READING
The Afterlife
Fanfiction"Waning! Crescent! Here she comes, wise. The moon made of me on its own it shall rise. Wind! Wind! It blows! Wind! To our draughting tree. Cry, my dear; with wind sure falls water, cry, with wind and water comes life, so I live; it is true - the win...
