Tomorrow is a blur for everyone but not for her. She knows too well that her future is just a repeat of her past. Bloody. Cold. Bruised. That will be her. Will she risk to have that tomorrow again just to treasure the blink of happiness before it w...
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He welcomed me in his home and taught me everything he knew. Learning his craft was tough but not on loving him.
~ Memory Journal: The Healer page 2 ~
• • • ○ ○ ○ ♡ ○ ○ ○ • • •
The air smells like the morning dew, like the early spring when the ice of winter starts to crumble and melt, slowly cascading into little streams. It spreads the scent of stretching little sprouts, waving grass tops, and budding flowers. It's the scent of new life and reachable freedom.
A gentle tap on her cheeks and she wakes up to a man that steals her heart with his dimpled cheeks and a pair of sweet dragon eyes.
"Wake up Dooyon-ah." His voice is deep but soft. A sound of a scholar who only knows how to read the teachings of confucianism and lives it by heart. The usual cross on his brows is gone with the lines of great joy. "We're here."
"Where exactly?" She mumbles as she gets up and looks around only to stare at the wonders of the rushing waters from a height and to the men below, six of them, with different states of undress, bathing. Her heart skips. 'I'm used to this. It's all nature...' Then their heads turn to her and her entirety lunges. Her heart throttles but she can't escape. "No. No!" She starts to crawl to the back of the carriage only to be drag down by the man and carry her to the awaiting mischievous men.
"Put me down!" She doesn't care how she sounds like a screaming lady. He only laughs. Then both her screams and laughter are muffled with the waterfall and everything left unheard as the man drops her on the waters.
Another kind of panic dawns her. With great strength she flails hard, arms flapping against the water until she realizes she can anchor her feet, straighten her legs, and stand on it. She can't drown. She awkwardly laughs on her stupidity.
Then, silence.
The waterfall rushes down loud and mighty, but their shock is louder, deafening. She blinks on their reaction and to their gaze that lands on her chest.
The white cloth sticks on her skin, and with the way they dragged her for a rare brotherhood trip at the ungodly hour of dawn, she didn't have a chance to bind herself.
With water, her truth has become crystal clear.
"See. I told you." Another heart robber with cat-like eyes smugly grins for a second before he zips his lips with the horror on her face.
"You knew." She mutters. "You knew." Her voice lowers, shaking in humiliation. Fists tight on her wet cheap scholar uniform.
Someone clears his throat. A warning. Immediately, all their eyes shy away from her form - curves, fullness, and softness so different from their toned muscles and a hardness of years of training of swords or spears. For scholars in their era we're not only limited inside palace walls not as scribes of laws nor scriptures. They are made hard to serve the kingdom to their fullest.
