Dancing With The Devil

perfect accident.

It was nighttime, the moon acting as the only source of light. I was at Bangtan pool again, sitting on the outdoor furniture watching the boys splash each other aggressively, pulling each other underwater. The boys were having a breath-holding contest and I was the judge. Seconds turned to minutes and every minute passing felt like an eternity. Why haven't they come up yet?

I headed closer to the pool, getting my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I was horrified at the sight in front of me. They were gone. Not one boy in sight. I saw my own body floating in the water, bleeding. The water painted red, rippling at the corpse. That was when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I shot up from bed every now and then with my heart pounding out of my chest. I wondered if it was the beating of my heart that woke me up or the back to back nightmares I kept having.

My sleepless nights began again. I tossed and turned for hours, uncomfortable in every position I laid. Four hours of threadbare sleep passed and it felt like I was being half-submerged in a bathtub of water. I wasn't necessarily drowning but my chest felt heavy and I couldn't breathe. What's going on with me?

My vivid dreams were constant, each of them ending in a bloodbath. I dreamt that the gala ended in a massacre. I dreamt that all my brothers were slaughtered. I dreamt that everything was my fault and Mom stabbed a knife through my chest. The images of these imaginary visions plagued my mind and I couldn't rest easy. I pulled my sweaty and jittery body out of bed and threw on some leggings and a sports bra. I needed to run. I needed to get fresh air and clear my lungs as well as my mind.

I checked my watch. 3:23 am. I headed outside and started jogging. The city was lit by the lampposts that lined the street. No cars drove at this time of night and the streets were bare. A stray dog loped down the sidewalk with no owner calling after it, a group of misfit teenage boys sat out front of a gas station, barechested and bored. The dead of night was when I always felt most alive, my prime. My head was like an empty highway and thoughts sped through it nonstop. Will this gala end in tragedy? Is Taemin really that mad at me? How will I react when I see Joonho? We hardly ever talked. Was Dad not THAT horrible of a human being? Is he a better version of himself now? How's Luke doing? I wanted to call him so badly. I needed to hear his voice, his comfort, his support. How is everything in Chicago? Is my absence affecting anyone? If my absence doesn't bother them, did my presence ever matter?

My mind was clouded like murky water, but luckily dust settles with time. After I exhausted myself of all my thoughts, I checked the distance I ran on my phone. 8.34 miles.

It was past 4 am now but the sun hadn't begun its journey into the visible sky yet. I was walking along a path on a highway over a cliff overviewing the city. Most buildings were completely pitch black but the city as a whole twinkled like a moon reflecting off of rippling water. I had stopped to catch my breath and took a seat on top of a large rock that laid embedded in the high grass. There was nothing better than breathing in the night air when there was no one else around. Who am I when no one is around? Am I Emrie Fey who is seeking the blood of her mother or am I Emrie Fey, the girl who is studying biology in university and wants nothing but her brothers back together?

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Joonho and his wife had just arrived at our home after their flight from Italy late this afternoon. He wasn't like I remembered him to look like. He was a well-kept man, clean-shaven, gel encrusted hair that felt hard to the touch. He wasn't as tall as I thought he would be and he had a very unapproachable expression on his face as if nothing would ever satisfy him. We pulled each other into a hug, the type of hug that neither of us wanted to partake in but felt like it was necessary.