"I have a key to suicide; the death formula."
***
BOOK ONE OF DEATH SERIES
In which, an unfamiliar boy attempts to guide Kang Soa out of depression and from her intentions to commit suicide only by a formula.
A mysterious boy,
A depressed girl,
And...
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"What is your name?" I asked, staring at the man in front of me who was unlocking the wooden door, his fringes dangling as he stooped to insert the key into the keyhole and I, with quite unexplainable curiosity discerned the brown curls of his hair which were thick and shiny.
"Kim Taehyung," he replied without looking at me, twisted the key and the lock opened.
"Aren't you going to ask me my name?"
"Of course not. I know you Soa," a weird tingle, a sensation tantalising, ran down my spine, sending chills as I shuddered and thought it must be the cold weather and the fact that I was drenched might have been the cause of my shivers.
He flung open the heavy door with a noisy, creaking sound, and I was greeted, welcomed by the sight of a dimly illuminated room before I could query further on the topic of how he knew my name. He flicked on the lights, they flickered sluggishly, dully, and then lit up brightly, irradiating the room; and hung the home keys on the nails and cleats behind the door, right in front of my face, as if he wanted me to know that I was in complete control and that I could trust him.
But perhaps, I did trust him.
The room, when I turned to look was small yet comfortably spacious. It was tidy and warm, with a sheet of silence that draped over it like a heavy blanket and the white walls stood empty, undecorated and beautiful in their own way. The types of furniture were entirely timbered, woody, looking like a genteel old fashioned, antiquated, poor but royal too, fancy but minimalistic too.
"That room over there,"---Taehyung pointed at a brown door with patterns and designs of black, towards the further end of the hallway---"you can stay there." He then looked back at my soaked clothes and said, "I'll get you fresh pair of clothes."
"Wait!" I interjected.
The boy was almost to turn around and was planning to saunter away but when he heeded my desperate voice, he stopped and faced me, waiting.
"Uh..." I had wanted to say thank you for everything but the words didn't seem to come out so instead I said: "you change your clothes too. They're wet from the rain."
He smiled and bobbed his head in acknowledgement and went away into another room which I presumed must be his. I looked out of the window at the never-ending rain and gloomy night accompanied by the thunderstruck and sighed, hopelessly before ambling up into the room that he gave me for a night and grasped the door handle before opening it slowly or rather cautiously, afraid a person might pop out of nowhere and claim, 'hey! It's my room!'.
The bedroom was modestly furnished on a meagre budget, yet it exuded more warmth than I had seen in many years. A medium-sized bed, appearing like a snow blanket, white and feathery was stationed near the window, the only window in the small room which was curtained with a square of starched white cotton cloth that drew over the panes using a white cord; a small-scale wash-stand with a quaint bowl and ewer of green and white stone-ware, and over it an old-fashioned gilt mirror; a recliner and large braided rug of red woollen rags, the only contrast to the white room; the milky walls had nothing hanging on it except a painting of cherry blossoms.
Cherry blossoms.
I hate them.
A wave of terrible and contemptuous anger arose within me and instinctively, I took the painting off the wall and dumped it in the nearby vacant dustbin, out of my sight.
The empty wall looked as good as my empty heart.
"Here, new pair of---" Taehyung stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on the painting that I had tossed aside.
"Sorry but I don't like it," I said before he could get the chance to shout at me, however, instead, he smiled sweetly and replied "it's okay" before taking it with him and lowering the clothes off neatly on the mattress.
Puzzled, I watched him go and pondered upon the quality of patience he had with me and never once confiding the obstinate behaviour of mine, possessing cardinal virtues such as the respect shown to a female; I thought---as I held the clothes and went inside the bathroom---a man of so was rare and unique.
I stripped down my wet clothes with immense difficulty and trepidation as I stepped inside the shower, water beating down the white tiles and then no sooner when I went under it, poured down on me; it dribbled by my side and I closed my eyes, imagining each drop trickle on my skin, rolling down as my mind faded into dullness and everything became a foggy illusion.
I didn't know how long I was in the shower when Taehyung's voice from the other side of the door startled me out of my stupor, saying---"Soa? Hurry up. Dinner's ready."
After hurrying up, I went to the dining room where Taehyung sat - in his creamy t-shirt and khaki pants - taking out the freshly cooked rice in the bowl he held when I made my way towards the small table of four and slumped across him.
"Soa," his eyes twinkled in an odd way when he glanced up at me, a soft smile displayed on his lips as he said, "you look good."
I wondered if he knew what I thought of myself: pathetic.
