She's Cold - Min Dae-Yang

Chapter 1.

This is a warning to whoever is reading this- this is a book that could be easily regarded as bothersome to some people, if this is the case: do not read this book; it contains things that heavily touch upon suicide, depression and self harm (this is not including other vital problems this book covers). 

If you leaving this narrative due to these causes I have listed above, please talk to someone: I am always open for conversation, however talking to someone much more experienced than myself should cope with your worries and/or problems much better (even though I am speaking from experience).

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All it took was one single dull movement that led her to darkness. A girl I have been -what I think- privileged to meet in November of 2015. The thirteenth, to be exact. She was cold, and the first time I had spoken to her was on a tester day, which was the first day we officially got to see our potential High School in London.

I remember her sitting down in the back of the art room on that very day, and the very detail has stuck to her the entire time she was alive: she was already like a ghost. Her skin, even though seeming tanned (which was almost obvious to state that she was an immigrant as we barely had any sun in England), was pale and ghastly- no rose on her cheeks, even though the classroom was hot- especially with all of the other kids moving around and screaming as though this was the theme park

-her eyes welled up with tears as she spoke, her broken voice seemed so hurt and shallow I could barely focus on what she said, but I caught each word anyway.-

but what stunned me was the fact that she seemed unfazed. Plus, I couldn't tell if she was focused on her work or just completely out of it, but when I asked her if she was alright: she looked up with those hollow eyes. Those eyes which now remind me of chocolate, making me completely lose my love for the milky treat. Those eyes that seemed so lost that they managed to make me question my own damn existence.-

-Those eyes stared at me from the other side of the barrier, until she let go, yet it still felt as if her eyes burned through me right until she hit the ground-

-She finally nodded slowly, just as I was beginning to question whether she can understand me. I mustered up  the courage to sit down next to her, not knowing how she'd react, but she didn't spare a glance over at my direction and carried on looking at the blank piece of paper. I poked her shoulder, waving as she glared at me (which I don't know whether it was a glare or a regular stare) and wrote on a piece of paper (the teacher began to talk about what we were meaning to be doing)

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hi, I'm Jade

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

To which she replied with a blank stare and her attention was back to the screen, her silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the light of the projector which seemed too bright for her eyes to handle (or mine as her slight squint at the front of the room may just be due to the low thickness of her glasses, which seemed to be useless)-

-The only thing the funeral home failed to remember were those silver-rimmed glasses which fell with her till the very bottom of her journey symbolizing her life. The only thing her father left me with after her death, and the only thing that was left broken about her (as her existence was no longer a part of the future, only a part of the cruel history that cannot ever be changed).-

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ 

Hi, I'm Anna. 

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