╰┈➤In a world where the line between life and death blurs, a girl named Kwon Dae is haunted by the tragic loss of her five childhood friends, in a devastating car crash. Three months after their funeral, Dae's nights are filled with vivid visions an...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dae sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the framed photograph on her nightstand. A woman smiled back at her—a woman she had never met but knew intimately. Her mother. The woman who gave her life, but in doing so, lost her own. It was a story Dae had heard over and over again, whispered by relatives, friends, and even strangers. "She died bringing you into this world" they would say with a sad smile or a disapproving glance. It was as if her very existence carried the weight of her mother's death—a burden she had been too young to understand but always too aware of.
Her father never failed to remind her of it. For six years, she lived under his roof, where love should have been, but cruelty took its place. The memories were blurry in some places, but others were as sharp as a blade. She remembered his eyes—cold, distant, and filled with blame. The way his voice would slur when he drank, the words tumbling out like poison.
"It should've been you." he'd say, his voice thick with hatred. "Not her."
The first few times, Dae didn't understand. She was too young, too innocent, to comprehend the meaning behind his words. But as she grew, so did the sting of his accusations. The verbal abuse turned physical, leaving behind bruises that would fade from her skin but never from her mind. Each slap, each shove, each moment of anger was etched into her soul. He didn't need to raise his voice to make her flinch; she learned to anticipate the next blow before it even came.
She learned to hide the pain, not just from the outside world, but from herself. For years, she believed that she deserved it—that maybe, in some twisted way, she was responsible for her mother's death. Maybe if she had never been born, her mother would still be alive, and her father wouldn't be broken.
The day her father took his own life was the day she felt both relief and guilt. Relief, because the abuse had ended. Guilt, because a part of her wondered if she had driven him to it.
