I placed flowers on her grave.
Roses, as if I was going to propose to Taeyeon instead of being in mourning.
No one was there except for me, Jessica went back to the streets, Yuri went back to her side.
Tiffany was on the run to place that I'd never reach.
Heaven, perhaps.
Or more realistically, somewhere between the alleyways, places where the police cannot touch a single hair on her body.
A place where night can cover the naked eyes.
The dog was with her.
Suddenly, I felt empty.
Because there was nothing left to write, as I lifted my notebook up to my eyes, all I could see was the mid-sentence of Taeyeon's last words.
I don't kill...
Then what?
If Tiffany didn't shoot her, she could have said more.
So much more.
It haunted me worse than Taeyeon's ghost, but I shook the thought of her rising from the dead.
She belonged under the ground yet didn't belong at the same time.
She was a pain to the human race, yet somehow, I felt that we couldn't survive without her.
She had things to say, I know it, and just satisfying her knowledge wasn't enough, I know.
She needed to speak the things that she knew, everything.
Therefore nothing would be complete, Taeyeon wasn't complete yet.
And nor was I.
I know you aren't.
That voice made me drop everything, the flowers, my beliefs, and my soul.
That voice of Kim Taeyeon.
Was I going mad?
Almost.
I unconsciously wrapped my hands around me head, as if I just had a minor headache.
Not like me entire life was now dedicated to something else.
More like someone else.
Kim Taeyeon.
Tiffany didn't do anything wrong.
I can't take it anymore, so I turn on my heel and run.
Afternoon rain splashed against my most expensive pants, but Taeyeon's spirit kept me alive.
I leaped in bounds across the cemetery, ignoring my footprints on another's grave.
Will the story be continued?
Yes, it will be.
It keeps me going.
Her voice.
It's directing me in a whole new direction as I suddenly stop, dead in my tracks.
I can't move, but I'm behind the cemetery's Victorian looking gates.
I'm right behind freedom.
Suddenly, some invisible force made me walk backwards, never looking forwards, yet not colliding with anything, not tripping over anything.
I can't see what's behind me, but in front of me, I see things I have never seen before.
Not ghosts, not the undead rising from their graves, but the sun, and the leaves blowing, and the dead tree branch breaking from its Father, his roots planted firmly into the ground.
People, in mourning, do not see these things; they are too focused on the person they are mourning for.
The rain clouds cover the sun; the leaves are damp and are just not complex sticky blobs against a rough texture.
People do not see the beauty I see at this moment, with the dead leading me somewhere, I don't know where.
Until I stand in front of her grave again, flower free.
You touched my creation, therefore, you are mine.
I didn't understand, I don't understand.
When a great artist angles his art in a gallery for all to see, when they leave, they do not leave with just the image of his art.
When a great musician taps a melody on his pianos for all to hear, when they leave, they do not just leave with just the sound of music.
When a great person does anything in life for all to know, when they leave, they do just not leave with the knowledge of knowledge.
They leave with a part of that person, you are leaving with me.
I peered down at my hands, the hands that were burnt and still scarring over.
I touched what Kim Taeyeon made, this Liquid Knowledge has sunk into my pours and traveled through my arm up to the arteries of my heart.
Through my heart and has driven in between both lobes of my mind.
She is here.
I have no choice but to open my door for her, to welcome her, because she's already inside.
I have the power to say what I couldn't under the scrutiny of camera, it's just me and you, isn't that wonderful?
Isn't that grand?
I can show you what you want to know, because now I know you, I am you.
And you will trust me.
Trust me.
I looked up, I no longer knew if it was me, her, or my own burdening insanity that made me look directly into the sun.
A flash of light, and all I could hear was the wind blowing and the leaves cutting the edge of my cheeks.
When I pivoted my head slightly to the right to look at the gravestone again, bold imprints of Kim Taeyeon upon it, I secretly wished yet was afraid that this was all a dream.
Some kind of night terror.
A nightmare that I didn't want to end.
But I woke up.
I shuffled in my bed, the tinge of Tiffany's scent still lingered, and the woody smell of Moose.
I groaned, a sharp pain shot through my skull, it rattled my teeth.
Or maybe it was just the chills.
I must have smacked my head into the wall or the door I was listening to while the two women had their encounter.
My own emotions getting the better of me.
Maybe the security guard took me back home, and I couldn't remember regaining consciousness in his car and unlocking the door to my home.
He was sure kind.
Or changing my clothes and slipping into my bed.
Empty.
Her voice didn't guide me to the bathroom, the nearest room, a place where one would naturally go in the morning.
It was morning, not night, not the hours of darkness where little children tremble in their sleep, no, it was morning a place where the monster under your bed left and you could put your feet back onto the floor, a privilege you didn't have even if you wanted to relieve yourself during the night.
I was safe.
When I ducked my head under the attitude of my facets to spit into the sink, I wanted to cry.
I couldn't see my reflection in the mirror.
Leave.
