𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞

⊱𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞⊰

There was nothing. There was no movement. No flow. It was stagnant. I hated it. I hated myself for creating something so meaningless. So pointless. So ugly.

I suddenly heard the door open. He was back. I needed to hurry. Hurry, hurry, hurry. I rushed around gathering sketches, magazines, drafts and tried to hide them all. But it was too late. I heard him enter the room. His steps echoed in my head and I felt my heart rise to my throat. No, no, no no. My body froze in place and I could feel my heart quicken. I felt his piercing gaze burn holes into the back of my head; the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and goose bumps rose on my skin. Slowly turning around, I caught his gaze and he steadily walked towards me. I shuffled backwards unable to look away from him. Away from the monster that glared at me with such vengeance it ignited my soul, leaving a pile of ashes for me to sweep up and store away.

"Give them to me." He spoke, his voice low. I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes as fear flooded my stomach. It drowned me as it filled me up, filling my lungs. My heart, my head. Every aspect of my body was filled with fear. So much so that that it wasn't blood coursing through my veins... It was fear. So much so that I became fear. I became fear itself.

I kept shuffling backwards, stumbling over piles of books on the floor in a sorry attempt to get away from him. I felt my back hit the wall and I quickly realised this was it. His seething resentment flowed out of him like an uncontrollable river, its banks breaking open. His tide of anger drowned me in dread, filling up my lungs and taking over me. This was the end. I was finished. Everything was over. This time he really would kill me.

"Oh Eun-Jae." He cooed menacingly, raising his hand to stroke my cheek. "I wasn't asking you to give them to me. I was telling you to. So give them to me. Let me see what you created darling."

How did he do it? How did he speak such warm words with such a cold demeanour? Warm words filled my ears, my heart, my head and yet it was still so cold. It was so, so cold. His touch. Cold. His eyes. Cold. He was cold. He was cold and I was fear.

"I'll do better. I-I'll try again. I promise I'll do better-" I stammered. But they were gone. The sketches, the drafts it was all gone. He shoved me aside, snatching everything out of my hands. I fell to the floor and I watched as he examined the pieces of paper. A look of disgust was plastered on his face. He picked a few more papers off the floor and his obvious disdain for my designs grew. I quickly pulled myself up from the floor and tried to get away but I felt myself being yanked back by my hair.

"Why did you make these? Do you know how horrible they are? There's no dynamic; no flow. It's ugly. It's pathetic." He spat, dragging me closer to him. "Just like you. Pathetic and ugly."

His words echoed around in my head, it was like he was speaking into my head. Or maybe, just maybe. It wasn't his voice. Maybe it was mine. Maybe I was calling myself pathetic. Maybe that's what I am. Pathetic. Useless. Ugly.

"I'm s-sorry. I'll try again. I'll do better." I choked, grabbing his wrist as he gripped my hair tighter, the excruciating pain, rippling through my head. He let me go, throwing me and the sketches to the floor. The words tumbling out of my mouth in a hurried fear were a lie. I couldn't do better. I'm not going to try again. Because this is all I can do. This pitiful work that I dare call art was all I could do. Was all I could produce. And it was pathetic.

He left me on the floor as tears streamed down my cheeks in a never-ending waterfall.

"I'm going out again. You have two hours to make something worthy enough to fucking look at." He spat, leaving the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

What do I do? What do I do? If I don't make something good he'll leave me. He can't leave me. I need him. What do I do if he leaves? I'm nothing without him. Without him I have no meaning, no purpose. Without him I have no flow, no movement. Without him I'm stagnant.

I paced the room hitting my head frantically, hoping that something would appear in my head. As I continued to panic my phone started to ring. Maybe it was him. Maybe he didn't mean what he said. I immediately picked up my phone only to hear another voice.

"Chaesoo?" I said, my voice still shaky.

"Eun-Jae? What the hell is going on? I just saw your sorry excuse a boyfriend storm out of your apartment." She asked angrily.

"W-What are you doing here? Where are you?" I questioned.

"I'm outside your door. Open up." She spoke, her voice sounding impatient. I rushed over to the to see Chaesoo in front of the door, her phone in her hand.

"Chaesoo-"

"What did he do to you? You've been crying. Did he hit you? Why was he so mad?" She fussed stepping into the house, looking around at the mess of paper and folders on the floor.

"He didn't-"

"He hit you didn't he?" She spoke, examining my body.

"S-Stop he-" I began.

"Eun-Jae." Chaesoo whispered. Lifting up my shirt and looking at my lower back.

"W-What?" I mumbled, twisting myself to see what concerned her so much. I quickly came to notice a large bruise starting to form. It must've been from when he shoved me to the ground. I'm sure it was just an accident. He didn't mean it. He still loved me... Right? Did he still love me? I'm not crazy am I? He still loves me; he still the person I met two years ago... Right?

"He- he didn't mean it. It was an accident!" I tried to explain, turning around to face Chaesoo. She had a look of sadness and dejection painted on her face.

"Why Eun-Jae? Why do keep living live this? He yells, he hits you, he put you in hospital for two months for god sake! Why do you stay with him? I can't bear to see you living like this." She choked, tears of sorrow and despair flowing freely down her face.

"Chaesoo... Please don't cry. I hate to see you cry." I said softly, bending down slightly to wipe her tears.

"How can I not cry you idiot! You have such a beautiful soul and yet he treats you like a piece crap. Your so- so kind and beautiful and a bunch of other things I can't even put into words. And yet you let him treat you like this." She cried, her voice getting louder and more desperate. "I swear to god I'm going to kill that bastard when he gets back." Her sadness immediately turning into anger. I chuckled at her and gave her a sad smile.

"There's nothing I can do Chaesoo. I can't leave him. I love him. I love him too much." I mumbled, wiping away the last of her tears. "And I'm sure he doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean any of this, he's just a bit stressed." I tried to protest. Those words fell past my lips in such a way that it sounded like I was trying to convince myself that he still loved me. That he still wanted me around. That he didn't mean any of this and he was just having a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a bad month. Or a bad year...

"How can you love such a horrible and disgusting man?! No. No. I'm not letting you go on like this anymore." She said defiantly. She took out her phone and quickly did something before dashing into my bedroom.

"Ch-Chaesoo?" I questioned, as I followed after her. She had managed to find a suitcase and had started to shove clothes in it.

"What are you doing? Stop!" I yelled, pulling the suitcase away from her.

"No! You can't keep living like this. I've transferred enough money for a ticket straight out of Seoul. There's some more money for you to stay in a hotel. Get a job, buy an apartment I don't care. Just get out of here." She yelled, tears rolling down her face for the second time tonight.

"What? N-no I can't-" I stammered. What if he found out? Who was I kidding, of course he was going to find out! What was I going to do?

But Chaesoo continued to gather up my stuff, somehow managing to persuade me to get changed and before I knew it I was gone. I was leaving Seoul. I was leaving him. I was leaving Yohan.

⊱•⊰