THE UNEXPECTED KILLER [G!P]

Chapter 34

Becky's pov.

Things would have been a lot different, had I been foreign to the concept of scars. Little, tainted swirls on flesh, that brought with it nothing, but the incisive claws of the past. For a second, I faintly recalled Doctor Kim saying something about Freen's scars the other night, but my chain of thoughts was soon interrupted by the sound of an ingrained voice.

"Rebecca."

While Freen's face remained stoic, cerulean eyes disclosing absolutely nothing, I didn't fail to gather the tinge of surprise her voice had.

I took a step forwards, fingers fidgeting for my life it seemed. "Are you...." I bit down on my bottom lip, failing to find the appropriate words to let out. "Alright?" I lowered my gaze to the floor, hating the effect Freen Chankimha could have on me even when she was on a hospital bed, drained.

"No," she answered, her voice rather raspier then usual, "I couldn't sleep at night, afraid a naive little girl couldn't prod at my mind anymore until she gets on my nerves. What else do I have to look forward to everyday?"

When I flickered my gaze up, I found Freen's eyes peering at me intently, amusement laced in the brown depths. I tried to suppress a scoff, letting out a harsh expel of breath as I finally started inching towards the bed slowly. "I'm not naive," I blurted.

Freen only sniggered in response. Of course.

I set my things on the side table, cannily taking a seat on the chair beside Freen's bed. It was only then, that I could take in the exhausted appearance of Freen's face, up close. Dark circles engulfed her eyes, the shade bridging over to the upper part of the hollows of her cheeks. She looked spent. Yet divine.

I glimpsed at her torso, not being able to ignore the scarred canvas. The seared swivels on her torso were unmistakably burn cicatrices. A few fresh incisions and bruises stood out against the array of healing old charred marks.

'She injured herself. Severely.' I recalled what nurse Jung-min told me earlier in the hallway. I tore my gaze away before Freen could catch me staring, glimpsing at the balding man in the white coat that stood a few feet away from Freen, his eyes focused on a little piece of paper.

Slowly, I hit the recorder on, finally coming close to gathering enough dauntlessness to look up at Freen, look her in the eyes.

"Good evening Ms. Chankimha."

Her menacing eyes merely observed me, saying nothing.

I ought to begin the interview with questions like, how was your day, or, did you eat well; but seeing how Freen was wounded and bed bound in a hospital, I decided to skip on those for good. My mind flickered to the ten day old conversation between Doctor Kim and I.

Should I tell Freen that I know about Sam?, I thought. But then, letting a critical word slip like that, barely a few days after a murderer had a dangerous episode, perhaps didn't seem like the smartest idea in the world.

So I settled on trying to get it out of Freen, all by herself.

"Describe your childhood."

I knew she'd blocked her memories, but still.

Freen remained wordless, merely looking at me and I didn't like it. Not one bit of it.

"I believe we left off at my turn. Rebecca."

Unbelievable.

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