Garnet | KTH

15. Broken World

Note⚠️: ah yes, another interruption. There's violence in this chapter.

Juliana's POV

Waning buildings and eerie winds echoed through my head and through my ears, the only sounds I could hear clearly.

I sat up and looked around at the area around me, realizing I was back on the streets again. The sight sent a strange wave of comfort through my body at the attachment I felt to this place. Though it was a hell-hole, I grew up here — I memorized every corner, hut and street. I could walk through and know every stand and hut blind folded.

The mud ground surrounded my body the same way I remembered, and the small huts I sprinted past as a child lined the street, along with the small stands that stood in their designated positions. Yet something felt off. It was home, but it appeared distorted and altered...foggy almost. I frowned, as my gaze continued to search for any inconsistencies, but I still couldn't place my finger on it.

My eyes widened with shock and fear when a familiar face entered my vision, smiling down at me kindly.

I blinked a few times at the person, not believing they were standing here in front of me.

Hana, one of my best friends as a young child besides Seulgi. But...how was she here?

"C'mon, Juliana! Let's go play!" She exclaimed with a light rose dusted on her dirty cheeks. She appeared the same as I remembered; round faced, friendly and filled to the brim with excitement. Hana didn't deserve the pain, the suffering she felt.

My blood ran cold when she grabbed my hand and pulled me up. I felt her touch spread through my body in the most eerie way possible. Once I stood, I instantly realized my height was cut off, and restricted. I looked down at my hands, and my blood ran cold. They were soft and young...like a child's.

I was back here again, back to where I was twelve years ago. I retracted my hand from her grip, my small and high pitched voice strange in my ears. "No, it isn't safe Hana." I said, the words echoing like a memory, as if I was reenacting what happened that day.

I stepped back, until a group of boys lunged out of the shadows to be behind Hana. I gasped, feeling arms clasp my own. Tears filled my eyes and I kicked and screamed to escape. The boys' menacing smiles only grew wider at my struggle, until one of them lifted their knife to Hana's throat. I shook my head, practically begging.

"Please," I whispered, my sobs like a haunting song.

"Give it to us, now." One of the boys said loudly, and Hana looked at him with fear laced in her features. She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I don't have anything," she breathed.

"You stole it from us!" Another cried, grabbing her hair and pulling it making her neck strain backward. She started to cry. I wanted to run over and comfort her, and wipe away all her tears, but I was trapped. The boys' grips on my arms tightened, and I wanted to look away. One of the worst sights was seeing Hana cry — like an angel being heartbroken.

I turned my head until a hand grabbed my face forcing me to watch. It was haunting me, forcing me to remember the memories I'd kept buried for too long, only to burst again from its cage.

Hana whined, and shook her head, "please, I don't have it."

Merciless, the boy scoffed, then swiped the edge of the knife against the delicate skin of her throat. Hana's eyes bulged, as blood poured from her neck. I screamed, watching as her young body — that had just barely begun to live — collapsed to the ground.