Yoo Ra's POV
"What have you done to my heart?"
I could almost feel his warm breath against my skin as he leant forward. I moved back at first, but when he stopped, I did too. We stared into each other's eyes deeply as if time was frozen. Those eyes made my heart flutter continuously as they seemed so passionate about everything. I stared at his eyes for about a minute or two, staring from left to right, right to left. It would have been awkward if we had realised what we were actually doing at that point in time, but since we were literally mesmerised, we felt a sense of calamity gushing over us. It was like we had been searching for each other, for peace, for tranquility and it felt like the comfort we could give to each other was different. Different from any kind of comfort you could find in the world. It was a kind of comfort from out of this world.
And then my phone just had to spoil that moment. Yes, my phone started ringing and we backed away, faces as red as tomatoes and refused to even make eye contact. Awkward indeed.
"Hello?"
"Yoo Ra."
"Who is th-"
I got cut off by my own thoughts. That voice. That dreadful voice. It came back.
I immediately put down my phone and hung up. I could feel my blood boiling in me as I felt a first hot tear starting to roll down my flushed cheeks. No, Yoo Ra, you can't cry. You can't cry after convincing yourself that he doesn't deserve your tears. Not again. Please...
He was the first man who broke my heart. The first man who I loved, the first man who I hated. The first man who wrecked me. The first man who made me suicidal. The first man who came into my life - my father. That wretched man.
When I was eleven, my family decided to move to America because that man had plans to expand his business. Convinced, we went to America and stayed there for a period of time. I started going to school, and had an ordinary life just like how I lived before we migrated. Everything was peaceful. Until that day.
FLASHBACK
I skedaddled all my way back home, wanting to tell my parents the good news that I had been selected to be part of a talent programme in my school. After all, like any other parents, they wished for me to achieve good results and let them be proud of me. They put in a lot of effort into coaching me, and I guess you could say their hard work had paid off.
Smiling, I wanted to walk into the house when I heard a loud crash. I looked up, and smithereens of shattered glass flew to the floor. I recognised those pieces of glass. It was my father's anniversary gift to my mom two years ago. A vase. Shocked, I heard screams and shouts as I slowly recalled the owner of that voice. It was my mother's.
I then saw my father pouncing onto my mom and using a wooden stick to beat her up. He kicked her, and I watched as that nightmarish scene unfold, witnessing my mother wincing in pain. Bruises and cuts were scattered all over her body, with blood trickling down mercilessly. My hand flew to my mouth as I silently stood there. My mother screamed and cried and she was about to pass out when I stepped in.
"Appa," I murmured.
They then finally noticed me, and were frozen. My mother was too weak to say anything at all, she was practically lying on the floor and trying to catch her breath. Meanwhile my father dropped his wooden stick and tried to say something but nothing could come out.
He walked towards me but I backed away. He was no longer that caring father who often gave me hugs and kisses, he was a monster.
"Yoo Ra-ah..."
"W-Why?"
"It's all a misunderstanding..."
I shook my head umpteen times as tears finally rolled down my cheeks even though I didn't want to show this ugly and gruesome man my tears.
"You're disgusting," I whispered before turning and dashing out of that dreadful house. It was at that moment when I truly understood the cause of my mother's frequent wounds. She told me that she was always clumsy, falling down during her morning routines, accidentally cutting herself while cooking. They were all lies. My life had been a lie.
I ran and ran to wherever my legs could take me. My once perfect family had been ruined. I had always thought, or rather deceived to think that my family was a blessed and happy one, whereby nothing could come between us. Hand in hand, we would overcome difficulties together. Little did I know that my father, my beloved father, was the difficulty itself. Why? Why was the world treating me like this? What did I do so wrong?
I finally reached a beach that was empty and deserted. I saw the waves gushing onto the shore, and it seemed to sweep sand grains away. The waves seemed exceptionally calming that day - it was like the open sea could finally end my pain. Forever.
What's the point? My life had always been a lie. What's the point of life if I were to be deceived anyways? I thought as I inched closer and closer to the incoming waves. The height of the water slowly reached my knees, then my waist, and slowly but surely, I was embraced by a calming and warm storm. Water.
It felt so calm, so soothing. I hated it and loved it at the same time. I couldn't breathe. Suffocation seemed like such a painful and cruel thing before, but there I was, willingly letting myself be suffocated. It was a great pain. And then I felt my limbs go numb. I sunk deep, without knowing anything, without feeling anything.
The next thing that I heard something was that voice that said, "Don't die. Stay." I expected to see the whiteness of heaven when I next opened my eyes, but something resisted me. That voice - it saved my life. And when I opened my eyes, I looked up to the sky. The clouds were grey. They even seemed to mourn for me.
My vision was blurry as I saw a pair of eyes staring deep into mine.
A voice whispered, "It was a miracle you were alive."
END OF FLASHBACK
Before I knew it, I was silently sobbing. It was the worst kind of pain when someone whom you loved and then hated suddenly ruined your life, left, and then came back in, trying to ruin it again.
"Come here."
I moved closer to Jungkook and fell into his embrace as he patted my shoulder. His head rested on mine, and I dug my head into his torso, wetting his entire shirt with my ugly tears.
"A-Aren't you going to ask i-if I'm okay?" I asked in between my sobs.
"What's the point of asking that when I already know that you're not okay, causing me to feel the need to ask that question?" Jungkook replied softly.
I chucked a little before I felt his grip tighten on me.
"I'm here for you."
I smiled slightly and nodded.
"You'd better be, Jeon Jungkook."
