ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ☑

41. Fly, Butterfly

Jimin

I couldn't shake off the agony creeping into my father's bones. He was the man who had taught me to play volleyball. He was the one to always help me with my homework. He was the same man who looked young and had gorgeous skin when I was a kid. He was the man who took me to gardens, art classes, dance classes, and Kendo classes. We used to do everything together at one time.

He was the one who was so excited when Sora was about to be born. He had told me that I needed to grow up to be a strong man to protect my sister. He taught me how to respect women, and now, he was helpless, his skin was dry and detached from his bones. His eyes were yellowish, his body was weak, he was always cold, and I couldn't get his crying out of my head.

I didn't believe in astrology, supernatural elements, or superstitions, but there had to be some truth in that tarot card reader's words because no amount of medicine worked on him, so I bent my beliefs and went looking for a minister who treated non-medical ailments.

I had to be away from home for two days to find the minister and take him back home.

I was impatient, furious, and extremely anxious. I kept thinking on my way back that he'd assure me that everything will be seen by God, that it will all be okay, but he didn't. 

By the brink of twilight, when we reached home, we hurried in and he began to perform a ritual at the doorstep with holy water. 

The action caused my heart to sink. I didn't believe there was any need for that, but at the same time, I was equally convinced that the minister would be able to save my father. 

"Eomma!" I hollered while peering deeper into the house. She was in the kitchen, looking as concerned as ever. She looked at the minister, who must have been a few years older than me, and began sobbing. 

The young minister held her hand and flinched. "You are feeling ill." He said, and my mother nodded weakly. 

"Your husband," he said. "Where is he?"

I was zooming in and out of the conversation. My focus was on the absence of my sister. "Where's Sora?" I asked.

"In the loft," she answered the minister, my words not reaching her ears. 

"Jimin!" The man yelled at me to pull me out of my stupor. I turned to him and he was asking for my hand. "Hold my palm and don't leave it." 

I was looking at him with questioning eyes. "Your father is possessed."

I shook my head. That was the most ridiculous thing I've heard. "No." I refused, albeit knowing that there might have been some truth to the allegation. Why else would I believe that he would be able to cure my father?

"There's no time, Jimin. His body isn't strong enough anymore. He's pulling your mother in, too."

The words were as if out of this world. My house was spinning around me slowly, or was it my head? "Where's SORA?!" I screamed. I didn't think I have cried before, not since I grew up, not like that. But I felt like my throat would choke on itself if I didn't find my baby sister. I needed to protect her. That was the purpose of my life. 

He grabbed my palm and pulled me to him right before I saw something green and vile lurking behind my mother's skin. The green flashed, hovering over her cheeks and nose. I realized it had a shape, like a palm, big and green.

"Jimin-ie," she sobbed. "I am sorry."

"Eomma, no." I wanted to pull away from the minister and hug her, but I felt a connection so strong that pulled me behind. The minister had wrapped a silk cloth loosely around our wrists. It was dry, but something was dripping from it, something golden.