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Chapter 33

Seonghwa was back and he wanted answers. He entered with an encouraging smile. I could only meet his smile with a blank face. He was nearly perfect in hiding his impatience if it weren’t for the tapping of his pen and the knee shaking under the table. 

“So…”

You don’t think I’m a bad person do you?

I fiddled with the pen in hand, having no courage to face Seonghwa’s upcoming reaction. Tears already pricked the corner of my eyes. I huffed in an attempt to contain them. 

“Is that what’s been bothering you lately?” Seonghwa opened his arms. “Come here.”

I scooted to the edge to let Seonghwa scoop me into his arms. I grabbed at his shirt and buried my face into the fabric. The tangle of emotions unravelled themselves, expanding until it spilt over the edge of the dam containing the mess. My breathing turned ragged and I began to sob again. He rubbed circles on my back and hummed a soft melody. Only when the sobbing ceased did he pull away and scanned my face - puffy eyed and snot dripping from my nostrils, mixing with the tears that dripped down my chin. 

“Oh my, we have an ugly crier.” Seonghwa used his sleeve to wipe away the mess. 

I looked down, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of shame. Two fingers lifted my chin and brought my head up to meet two warm eyes. 

“Look at me. I doubt that’s half of it.” 

“...nightmares.” I murmured. "It’s so stupid." I covered my face. 

“It’s not stupid if it causes distress. It’s okay to cry.” 

The dreams, the nightmares. What is real, what is not real. I have murdered people in my dreams and I have murdered somebody here. I don’t know who I am and I’m scared of who I might turn out to be. What if I hurt somebody here? 

“And I have full faith you will not. Celestie or not, you are still you.” 

But 

“Do you care about all of us?” 
I nodded.

“Then there’s your answer.” 

I slumped back on the bed, mind swimming from the tangle of emotions that uncoiled itself. 

I’m tired. 

Seonghwa hummed in response and waited for the pen to start moving. The feelings from the dream still lingered but tangled with the concurrent confusions. There are approximately twenty five thousand words yet any word, in any arrangement, could not describe what I felt. I made no move in the silence and neither did the insistent doctor want to move on. 

I had a dream. A close up of the figure who killed me. A school. A secret code for some secret organisation. 

“Unfortunately this involves Hongjoong then.”

I grumbled in reluctance. It did make sense to discuss with him about the dreams but communication with the tiny (not really) man was difficult. 

Displeasure was an understatement for Hongjoong when he saw Seonghwa accompany me at his office door. He did seem somewhat expectant of my presence. The familiar Cromer chronicles on his table laid open on his desk.

Skipping all formalities, he slid the book and a pen for me to document my dream. He had yet filled in his. Whilst the pen scratched the paper left permanent marks in swirls, murmurs from the two continued back and forth. I sat back, reading over the quick summary. Hongjoong’s eyes scanned the passage when I finished.