Seokjin pov.
"Please avoid contact with me unless you have any answers." A woman whispered to a student and walk away from the scene, her sorrowful expression hidden by a shadow.
I silently dragged my fingers across the yellow caution tape. The loud wailing of sirens could be heard from afar. I was entering the suicide of Kim Sora. How tragic, she was successful this time.
A small crowd of students continuously glancing back at the bloody scene, and the shadow of one creeps behind me.
A mellow voice with appealing words struck me, "I'm sure you'd like to know the cause of this."
Of course. Though I feel as if it would be invading the victim's privacy, somehow her death had not affected most of her fellow classmates.
"And I'm sure that you know." I resume with a frown, and wait for an answer. The owner of the voice, Park Jimin, smiled wryly. He was the type to use shyness as a mask but knew all the gossip. I'm confident that I can knock some answers out of him.
But a long silence passes between us before the wind interrupts it.
"...You were alongside her the whole time." He finally says. What is he talking about? "And you don't know anything?" He questions anxiously, his glossy black eyes staring into mine. I'm soon blinded by the sunlight that soaks him up from behind.
"I was her friend. That's it." I answer. "No more than that, not a close friend or anything."
He seems upset with my answer. I want him to accept the truth.
He continues to stare at me, his expression tearing up.
"Do you want to change the way you remember her?"
-
The wind is furiously rushing through the city streets and I'm glad to have made it home. But I need something to wash away my gray thoughts. They're persistantly coming back to me. I scan the room.
My bedsheets are so soft that I think I'm sinking into them. The vase of white near my window are wilting but they don't need water. The hands of an antique alarm clock are ticking and it's getting on my nerves.
"Do you want to change the way you remember her?"
The worst part about these uneasy feelings is when they take control of you. As if your brain had been replaced with your heart.
The worst part about guilt is when you're anxious to cover your weary eyes with your hands, but they wrap around your neck instead.
