𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐲 | 𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

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ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ

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ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Knowing you were going to die but not knowing when meant that you needed to enjoy every little moment in the time you have left before the sand in the little glass in the middle of your chest eventually ran out.

Hee-won had known that all her life, that each passing moment was something precious and so she tried to live her shortened life to the fullest. But it was so damn hard to look at the bright side of the things when the world was so cruel and awful and always testing her. How could she enjoy the little things when the world threw every bad and shitty thing back in her face. She guessed that was just what happens when you're the world's unluckiest girl.

" Piece of shit!"

Hee-won bellowed bitterly, grinding her teeth in a snarl as her fist raised half in the air, pulled back by her ear with an angered glare pointed at the man in his shiny silver car which drove past her, his tyres whipping in the ankle-deep water, sending it shooting onto her lower legs. Hee-won grumbled profanities loudly, uncaring, shaking her legs while slapping her palms over her darkened jeans before trying to ring the excess water in the puddle pooling at her feet. "I swear people are assholes today. Or everyday but specifically today. Huh. What's it Asshole Sunday" she growled, the passer buyers on the street shot her questionable glares of emotions ranging from irritation to confusion and finally sympathy when they noticed her dribbling pants. Hee-won simply glowered at anyone bold enough to meet her steaming stare. 

She took another moment to regroup, to calm the fire in her veins and remember her father's soothing voice. Deep breaths Hee-won, in and out, just like this. She exhaled with a final puff of her slow dragged-out breath before she dusted off her hands, hiked up her flaying bag of which she had been gifted months ago by her lov- ex lover and continued on her not so merry way. The small bag glued to her side had begun fraying at the edges, loose strands of gold thread peeled in some areas and laid bare in others. It had slight scratch marks, and the zipper was hanging so loosely that with one harsh pull, it would tear itself from the bag, but it was special to her or maybe she was holding onto the memories that came along with it- a time where she was happy and the pressure in her chest felt a little lighter.