TRIGGER WARNINGS: alcohol, drugs misuse + dealing, gangs, violence, vaping, r@pe, s3xual assault/harassment, uhm.. murder???
❝no body, no crime,
but I ain't letting up
'till the day that I die.❞
as the two representatives for their class at decelis...
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'all alone in the hazy fog-
if the boundaries that block you are lifted one by one,
(you can) walk away endlessly again.'
wednesday 3rd october, 9:27pm.'
BOTH jihye and her dad sit in the confines of the family bmw, the atmosphere quiet, brewing with apprehension.
her mom is not going to be happy.
but in all honesty, she's much more concerned about her cat.
she climbs out of the passenger seat, grabbing her coat, as she shivers from the cold, sniffling softly. her head feels light and heavy at the same time, and she can feel her throat close up by the minute. she feels numb, especially up her bare, bruised legs, but she looks numb, dazed - the physical pain has subsided, but the mental torture remains.
she wants her cat, and she wants her bed, and she wants to feel like jihye again.
she felt like jihye a few hours ago, at school.
she felt like jihye last night, with jungwon.
life holds many twists and turn, for the better- or for the worse.
and jihye's not quite sure if she likes that.
she stumbles to her front door with a dejected expression, dreading whatever is waiting for her inside. her dad unlocks the front door, and she hangs her coat up, almost immediately dashing up the staircase.
and then she flops into her bed face first, and sobs her heart out. as childish as it may seem, she can't stop the crying, akin to a toddler tantrum- minus the kicking and screaming. just lots of passionately- painful sobs.
her parents' vacillating arguments project throughout the opulence of their family home, and yet, she still can't actually hear a word, mainly because the many thoughts racing through her mind are so head-splitting.
(though it's probably her headache doing that.)
she sniffles, turning to face the ceiling in efforts to calm herself down, but to no avail, as it just leaves her mind twisting in a mix of self-pity and self-reprimand. she should've stayed home, she should've stayed quiet, and she should've just pushed her fear to the side.
but it simply wasn't that easy for her, and, to be fair, she's been needing a good cry for awhile.
she groans, standing to move into her bathroom. her mascara trickles down her face with every sniffle, and it's disgustingly uncomfortable. her head pounds repetitively, the sensation growing more and more mind-numbing by the minute. she reaches for her paracetamol box, but holds back at the faint sound of milo's all too familiar meows. she widens her eyes, hastily moving towards her bathroom window, hearing the sound grow louder and louder, more and more mellow. she opens her bathroom window, grinning gratefully at the sight of her now- drenched cat.
