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WIDE AWAKE ㅤ✷ ㅤCHAPTER ONE:
SLEEP HAD NEVER come easy for the youngest Yun girl, and she often found that when the whole world was asleep, she was wide awake.
Long after curfew had ended, Nari found herself sat upright, thin beads of sweat, illuminated up by the low-light, trickled down her forehead, seeping into her clothes. She swiped furiously at her forehead then, trying to rub away at the fever that threatened to ensue.
Fear seemed to be eating her alive—nights were never easy for her and they rarely offered the solace she so desperately sought out. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and flinched, only to discover that it was her pillow rubbing against her side.
Nari could see her brother in her dreams—in the harrowing nightmares that never ceased, even when she was wide awake. Crimson red blood poured down his forehead, stained his shaking palms, and spilled from his charcoal boots, (she never knew if it was his or hers). Nari, he had screamed in that sick and twisted voice, much akin to nails along a chalkboard. He would beckon for her as his limbs contorted and stretched—inhumane. She could never recall if she took a step forwards, or a step back, the only sound her bare feet crunching against the matted, soiled ground beneath.
Then, he began to smile—it was a hollow, shallow grin that stretched across the apples of his cheeks, a sanguine substance dripped from his mouth as he bared his yellowing fangs. Come, he'd screech out, still smiling—he never seemed to stop. The ear-to-ear grin he'd always sport had become corrupted by the creation of this monster.
The dream would halt then before she even had a chance to register her next move and the grief would begin. Beads of sweat would trickle down her forehead and her insides would twist and churn. Her shoulders would slump and her legs would cramp; her palms shaky and hot. Her fingers would drum against the side of her cot, working at their own accord, and the sorrow she fought so hard to conceal would fight its way to the surface of her dark brown eyes. She would drown in the air of sadness and sorrow that consumed her, swallowing her whole—it threatened to chew away at every last bit of humanity remaining.
It was a correct assumption to make that Nari Yun was not completely whole, instead the shell of her forebearers; their cryptic remains.
NARI YUN SHOVED on her black combat boots, her fingers desperately trying to knot together the thin, black laces. She cursed underneath her breath. Her attempts appeared to be futile, the thin lace slipping between her bony fingers. Frustration rose inside of her and she cursed yet again—patience had never been a trait valued high amongst the Yun family.
She had missed roll-call again, and she could practically picture the interrogation that would occur and the punishment that would follow—the only question that remained unanswered was whether they would take pity on the lonesome girl, or subject her to long, grueling labor without any added benefits.
She inwardly sighed, they would not take pity on her, no matter how much she moaned and groaned—they never did, not for anyone.
Right on cue, Nari felt an arm on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch.
"Nari Yun, skipping roll-call again?" A low-voice spoke, and she could practically see the corners of his mouth turning into a smirk.
She looked up at the tall figure towering over her small, crouched frame. The person in question was a handsome young man with a lean and tall stature and messy black hair. He sported his signature upturned smirk, though his eyes were tired and his brows furrowed. Nari could practically smell the tiredness on his breath, laced in-between every word, and the worry and fear that emanated off him. She always had been good at reading people.
Kang Soek-chan had to admit that his days of normality were long behind him, tucked away into a past he could no longer unlock, one that was foreign and unfamiliar. But the remains were visible in every action he made; they were in his choices to be merciful, to not fight violence with violence, and his overt obedience.
Nari offered him a sly grin as she wordlessly stood, abandoning her thin, black laces.
Soek-chan rested his hand on his gun. She hesitated at this, and he removed his hand, a brief apology in his eyes.
"It's just protocol," he cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable—it was visible in his supposedly unreadable expression.
Her eyes bore into his, an unwavering scowl traced upon her lips. "I didn't know you had it in you to threaten old friends," she declared, her shoulders slightly slumped. He didn't miss the shine in her eyes.
"Is that what we are," he raised a brow.
She choked out a laugh then, an ear-splitting grin spreading across her face. "Any friend of my brother is a friend of mine." Her hand rested on his shoulder then.
An unreadable expression passed over his face then, his smile faltering slightly before it returned. She watched as he pulled out a small, silver blade from his pocket. "Shall I?" he questioned, his eyes frantically searching hers, what he was looking for, she did not know, though she was sure he would not find it here, within her.
She nodded her head, biting down on her lower lip as she craned her neck to the side, away from where the blood was about to be shed.
She rolled up her sleeves and wrenched her eyes shut as a pain that was no longer foreign to her shot up her arms and rushed into her lungs. She gasped for breath as the cool, cold metal sliced across her exposed flesh.
"It's just protocol," she repeated in her head, over and over.
