Chapter One

Why? He left me. Again. It’s not the first time this has happened. My father’s gone. I keep on asking

myself this as I enter the library. I feel like crying, but nothing comes out. I knew that he would be going soon, yet it was

only when he left that it struck me that I was alone. Alone again. And this feeling of emptiness shouldn’t have been there.

I have always been alone, by myself. I was able to easily pick myself up when I needed to. I was my own bodyguard, my

own healer, my own friend. I never felt I needed anyone else. I never felt hollowed out even when there was no one but

my dad and I. But now he’s gone. And only then did I have a realization again that I truly am by myself. I was up against

the world, facing reality without anyone. Only at the near age of fifteen. ​Is this how others feel who don’t friends or

family?​ I constantly wondered. ​Is this why the boys and girls are always in groups, like wolves in a pack, looking for

easy target just to have something to do together?​ ​Just to not be alone?​ I never understood what was in the heads of all

those scumbags that constantly tease me for stupid reasons. I didn’t know what I had been doing until I hit my head

against one of the bookshelves that was installed on the wall. Lost in my thought, I had walked to the back end corner of

the library, basically what felt like a second home to me, after storming out of my house from anger. I had been so

stunned by what had happened, I thought to go to my only safe haven. What I hadn’t realized was that I had left the

house when a large rainstorm began out of nowhere on this humid, sunny day. So out of my frustration, I walked in the

rain, wearing a tank top and shorts. Thinking back, I now realized why there was no one walking on the streets. And also

why I was getting odd stares from strangers through their cars. I squeezed the water out of my hair and tried to air dry my

clothes. The library was empty except for a woman sitting behind the counter. She was about to close the library, but I

came here so often at closing time that she just decided to give me a copy of the keys to the library. I sat down on the

rocking chair pushed back in the corner and stared out the window. I stared off to space for a few moments before I

exasperatedly sighed. I didn’t want to go back. I couldn’t continue on like how I had been doing for the past fourteen

years. I looked at the several dozen snow globes that sat on top of the shelf I had bumped into earlier. I didn’t know if I

was disgusted or angered by them. I was an only child who lived with my father. I often asked him what had happened to

my mother, but he wouldn’t say anything about her except she had died when giving birth to me. To hear that at such a

young age, I felt burdened, thinking that it was my fault that my mother died and why my father had to raise me by
himself. I didn’t know much about my mother and my father wouldn’t really tell me what happened between the two of

them. My dad and I never bonded or got along together much. I could only remember a bittersweet memory of him that

felt like it was such a long time ago.

I was so young, yet I feel like I’ve only heard the stories yesterday. At night, I always had an active

imagination and couldn’t sleep properly. My dad knew how worse of a state I was in when I had collapsed at daycare

from exhaustion and sleep deprivation. He took me to the doctor, who I couldn’t remember what he had told my dad. The

next day, before going to bed, my dad came in and told me to become comfortable. He began telling the stories of a boy

and a girl and their love story. I was so encaptured by the story, it was the one thing I kept so close to my heart. I was

able to sleep peacefully that night, and every night my father told me the story. My nightmares soon went away, but so

had my dad and his stories.

“Bella, I’m going now,” the lady at the desk snapped me out of my trance and had begun walking away. I now

was left in the empty library with nothing else but the books surrounding me. It may seem that I might feel even more

lonely by myself, but I never felt like this here. I loved all the stacks of books, neatly ordered, filling row by row of every

bookshelf. There was nothing better to me than to stay here for hours on end. I wished I could’ve stayed there for hours,

letting go of all my problems, my worries, and the world around me. I began reading several new books that the library

had recently bought. Sometimes, the librarians would joke that with all the time I spend on reading, I would soon read

out the entire library. They weren’t wrong about that though as that’s happened to me several times before. I smirk a bit

from the memory and read silently in the dark, empty library for hours on end. It began growing dark outside and I had to

leave the library before becoming too lazy to go back home. The last time I slept in the library, the librarians found me

sprawled on the ground with stacks of books lying around me. I didn’t know if they were joking or not about kicking me

out the next time I spend the night in the library. I placed the books back in the shelves and headed home.

Standing outside the front of my house, I didn’t know whether I should enter or not. I didn’t want to listen to the

whole conversation I had earlier with ​him​. The sunrays began showing less and less until it was pitch black and the wind

starting giving me chills down my back. It had been at least five or six hours since I came to the library, but my clothes

were still wet and I knew that I might get a fever or even get hypothermia if I didn’t go in now. I mentally challenged

myself, refusing going inside the house, but I finally gave in and enter the heated home. The large oak door creaked open
as I stepped inside. I was greeted in by a blast of warm air and bright lights turned on. Closing the door slightly, I creeped

inside through the main hall where the giant crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling and the shiny floors that seemed

to reflect the lights and illuminated the house even more. I tiptoed on the wooden stairs only hearing the soft, steady

ticking of the grandfather clock and the low hum coming from the refrigerator in the kitchen. As soon as I made it into

my room, I locked the door and heaves a large sigh, gently sliding down onto the floor. It was nearly midnight, and I

could’ve sworn that my dad would be worried sick about me, waiting at the front door of the house for me to come back

home. I didn’t want to see him, but I wished that he would have still been there, so at least I would’ve known that he

cared for me. But no. That was not the father I knew. The father I knew of didn’t care about his daughter and didn’t care

if she was walking on the streets or at a club, or God knows where. The father I had was not caring or loving. The father I

knew of was kind, helpful, supportive, and dear. No. That father I knew was gone. Gone a long time ago. And now I’m

left with a father that looks like him, slightly aged, but one without a heart. One without a soul. I sat in the darkness of

my room, my locked thoughts spilling out and corrupting my mind. Without a boundary to hold my thoughts back, words

spewed out of my mouth of all that I was thinking of. I couldn’t deal with holding it back today though. I wanted to

scream and yell, but I felt too childish for that and even if I tried, I would just be wasting my energy for a lost cause. I

knew that he wouldn’t change, that he wouldn’t love me the way I had loved him. I felt a tear roll down my cheek and

the spherical ball of water splashed gently onto my pants. I wanted to cry more, but nothing came out. All my energy and

anger was gone through that single drop of tear. I was tired and drowsy and I knew that I would begin school in a couple

of days. I changed out of my clothes and fell onto my bed, wiggling into the covers. Just then, a growling came from my

stomach, which gave me the realization that I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. I tried pushing the thought out of my

mind that I didn’t need to eat, that I can survive a day more without a meal. Yet, the vivid images of food kept on

appearing and it wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t stand it anymore and finally decided to go back downstairs. I crept

slowly to the kitchen to feed my starving stomach. I peered into the fridge, looking for any leftovers I could eat. I found a

bowl of rice along with several other side dishes and fried vegetables that I warmed up in the microwave. I quietly sat

down in the dining room and ate the food peacefully. To lazy and tire to do the dishes, I immediately went upstairs

afterward and instantly fell asleep as I hit the soft pillow. I was awoken by a loud rumble coming from outside. It was the

neighbor's weekly lawn mowing that I always suffered from. I had asked them before if they could mow at a later time of
the day and they agreed, but I still felt like mowing at ten in the morning was too early. I shut my eyes and covered my

ears with my pillow. The continuous buzzing of the lawn mower irritated me and I threw around a few curse words out of

habit. I gave up and decided that since I was already awake, I might as well wake up and start my day. Nearly forgetting

about the fight that happened the other day, I was almost in a decent mood. Hit with the morning drowsiness, I dragged

myself to get ready.

 Chapter Two

Days passed. Weeks soon. The end of summer was coming and the chills of autumn began setting in. It had been

a lonely summer for me, living alone in the empty house without any friends that I could spend my time with, unless

books counted. My father left on the business trip over a month ago overseas to America. I never felt like I should’ve

joined him and I want to continue my studies here in South Korea. I was beginning my sophomore year in Shinhwa High

School, a prestigious school that many “outsiders” wouldn’t be able to go to. Though I lived in Korea, I was originally

born in America, so I never fit in the Asian school, as I always had something different about me compared to them. The

lighter black hair that almost looked brown, the larger eyes and eyelids, the pale, white skin. Though I looked slightly

different from the others, it was my grades that set me apart from the rest of them. Our school always had high

expectations of our work habits and grades, and I always seemed to pass them by a mile or two. Well, except on groups

projects, I never worked with other students and most of them only partnered with me so I would carry the entire weight

of the project. I’ve thought about trying actually be friendly with the other people, but decided against it because it the

end, it was worthless and it would just drain me out. I continued thinking about school as it was coming up in less than a

week and I had prepared by going to the library everyday to study. The girls at my high school seemed to all fall into

certain distinct categories or “cliques,” which I had picked up quite early in Freshman year. There were the nerds, or the

teacher’s pests, there were the rebellious girls, and then there were the popular girls who always seemed to be on their

phones or flirting with a boy. The thought of it made me gag. The thought of them made me gag. All of a sudden, I fell

back onto the floor, my books flying into the air and landing around me. Realizing that my thoughts had been wandering

off again, I picked myself up and the books that fell on the ground. I had hit my head on the door of the library and I saw

the oily mark my forehead left on the glass door. I entered the library to continue my studies inside.

It was the day before school and I was prepared. I had packed all my supplies and work for the next day, even

though the first day of school is never a learning day, but more of an introduction to the new year and to smack students

in the head to make them realize that their summer break was over. I never woke up early without having a “life or

death” reason to. I went to bed early to wake up the next day and it was then when I realized that I had completely

forgotten about the assignment over the summer. ​How could I have forgotten?​ I thought, panicking all of a sudden. I
looked through my files to see the slip of paper with the assignment written on it. This project was supposed to be done

over the course of a whole summer, but I only had a night to finish it. I rushed to the library, which was still open as it

was fairly early to evening. Sitting down in the corner of the library, I began my last-minute assignment.

The light came shedding into the room and I closed my eyes tighter, refusing to wake up. I wanted to sleep

because I had finished the summer assignment in a hasty fashion at four in the morning and barely had the energy to

wake up. I forced myself to at least look at the clock and see what time it was. I looked at my watch that I had forgotten

to take off the night before. Seven twenty-eight. Thirty-two minutes before school started. I jumped up out of realizing

the time it was. I had to get ready to go to school and I lived twenty minutes away from the school. On top of that, I

realized that I had be sleeping inside the library! I panicked and rushed to get ready, nearly forgetting my assignment on

the way out. With my half buttoned shirt on and uneven socks, I went out the house with my bag and I ran. I ran. I ran as

if I was being chased by a bear three times my size, ready to maul me at any second. I ran for what seemed like hours,

beads of sweat dripping from my face, pulling my back up as it slipped from my shoulder, all while trying to come my

hair and look at least decent enough to go out in public. I could see the school, which was no further than a quarter of a

mile away. I hastily looked at my watch to see the time. Seven fifty-nine. One minute until the bell rang. I made a weird

screeching, gasping sound from my mouth out of panic, fear, and loss of breath. I entered the building and I rushed down

the empty hallways into my class. Out of breath, I stood at the doorway of my classroom, holding my knees, trying to

catch my breath. The bell rang then and I looked up. The entire class was seated and they and the teacher looked at me

with confusion. I looked for an open seat and sat down, trying not to disrupt the class for the rest of the day.

The day went by quickly as school already felt quite prosaic. I didn’t know how boring life had gotten at that

point. I still had top grades in my school, but I never put much effort into it. I never had that brightness that lit me up

anymore. And for no reason, tears would often swell up in my eyes. But I was not happy nor sad, but just neutral, stuck

in an odd sort of limbo. There was nothing to make me move out of this depressed state. Not for a long time.
 Chapter Three

Fall came quick but just as quick as the leaves turned colors and fell to the ground, autumn breezes and autumn

colors faded away into a memory. Our school began this program to help troubled students who need supervision by a

more “superior” student. But it wasn’t for the misbehaving children. It was for the, well, dumb kids. The dumb kids who

couldn’t get their assignments done on time. The dumb kids who nearly failed and flunked every test they were given.

Those dumb, rich kids who were only in this school because of their parent’s wealth and status. And the “superior”

students? Well, being an A-plus student definitely gave you the reputation of “superiority.” So I was given the job of

handling them. I would have declined profusely if that wasn’t my only source of income. Being a grade ahead and

already young for my actual grade, I wasn’t allowed to have a professional job yet, so I didn’t have a way of income. I

usually had tutor sessions with each of them privately once or twice a week. Often times, I was paired up with the shy,

introverted children who were behind in class because they didn’t know what the material they were learning and didn’t

ask help from the teachers. The other types of students I have to deal with are the popular ones. Yes, they are popular and

their family is rich. Yet, even their popularity and wealth combined couldn’t change their grades in this prestigious

school. I hate to teach these types of students because unlike the other failing students, they weren’t paying attention to

the material and were just messing around when they should’ve been learning. Sometimes at the thought of me having to

teach such morons wants me to hit my against a wall.

I had another session after school with one of the students. Apparently he had been passed through several tutors

that couldn’t handle him. I was going to meet up with him after school in the library. Not knowing who I would have to

handle today, I decided to ignore my curiosity and wait to see him.

I walked into the library after school and sat at a large round table near the entrance. Bringing out several

textbooks out of my bag, I placed them onto the table and continued on with my work until the student arrived. Half an

hour or so passed by when I was interrupted by a voice coming through the door.

“Sorry I’m late. I had some business that I had to attend to,” the voice that spoke sounded familiar, but my

irritation ignored that fact.

 Without looking around I began spilling words out of my mouth. “Late? Oh no. You’re definitely not late. Why,

you’re right on time,” I had the most sarcastic voice on while continuing with my work.

“Great,” the voice said, as if not noticing that I was quite angry with him.

I was getting annoyed now and he began getting on my nerves. I would usually be able to keep my cool around others,

but the tone, the way he had talked to me got me lashing out.

“Look. I am not here because I want to. I have my own business and my own life to attend to. So why don’t you

be more considerate and some on time? Or at least try to reach out that you can’t make it on time. Oh wait, why would

you? You’re probably a stuck-up rich, snotty kid who doesn’t care if they’re stupid as a rock. Why don’t you try starting

to fix your own messed up life instead of waiting for someone else to do it for you!” I raised my voice at the end without

realizing how loud I became. I pulled my hand up to my mouth to cover anything that same out of it, but quickly

maintained my posture and turned around to see the boy. It was one of the school athletes standing next to me. He was

looking at me in complete awe as if nobody ever raised their voice to him. He was quite tall, looming over me, and had a

small build. Out of nowhere, his complete amazement and shocked face turned into a grin. I frowned angrily and became

even more irritated by it.

“Well, I didn’t know that you would be ​this​ upset for coming half an hour late,” he sat down in the chair next to

me. “I transferred to school only a few weeks ago and my schedule still has been off lately.” I burrowed my eyebrows

even further creating a bumpy on my forehead. I relaxed and composed myself and began the lesson. “Right, my name’s

Park Peter.”

“Bella,” I replied and we continued working for the next few hours.

“Hey Bella,” Peter asked in a questioning voice, interrupting the dead silence, and I looked up. “You look cute

when you frown.” The instant realization hit me. A playboy. I glared at Peter with a disapproving look, but all he did was

laugh a bit at my reaction. Though I wasn’t happy with what he had said, but I couldn’t help letting a smirk creep up onto

my face, making me quickly look away.

 Chapter Four

Winter’s begun and the sun barely shone through the thick, dense clouds. The atmosphere was cool and a chilly

air rushed into my face. Winter always reminded me of hopelessness, the bitter cold, the dark nights. I always imagined

winter having such a strong force of negativity and I felt that way for many years. I never had liked winter and never

understood why people were so festive during this season. I guess I might’ve been like Ebenezer Scrooge, but the

younger, female version. However, this year was different. I felt most alive then other days and I started smiling more. I

took notice of nature’s beauty rather than its cruel, unforgiving, merciless side. It’s been nearly four months since my dad

had left, but I didn’t want to think about it. Clearing my thoughts, I stepped outside to the cool air, feeling a sense of

refreshment rather than bitterness. I began my way to the library, but decided to roam around the neighborhood.

I was nearly at the library, which took me almost another half an hour to get to, but I didn’t mind it. Walking

down the street, I heard a whimper. Next to me was an alleyway; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I heard the

whimper again. Stepping closer to the dim alley, the whimper became louder. Locating the sound from a cardboard box, I

peered inside. There, shivering and huddled in a small ball formation, was a small puppy. It’s curly brown fur was

covered with snow, eyes begging to be saved. I could hear the slow beating of its heart, at the near sound of being

stopped at any moment. Even to me, my heart tore and the sight. I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed the puppy and

ran back home.

I sat down by the dog by the heater in my house. My heart pounded slowly, shaking at every whimper that came

out from the dog. I waited for the dog to warm up drying off its fur and wrapping it up in blankets. Soon enough, the

dog’s eyes began to flutter open and tilted its head to look at me. I saw it in its eyes that he was starving, nearly at the

edge of death from starvation. I ran to the kitchen to find leftover meat and ran back with two bowls of food and water.

Quietly, I watched it eat in silence, regaining its health and hunger. I smiled at the sight and began petting the dog. I

didn’t know what to do next. I picked up the dog and started comforting it. I didn’t know why, but I felt so attached to

him and I felt that he had been through so much, yet I didn’t know anything about this dog. After a while, the dog began

walking around, soon jumping and running. He began playing around with the fake holly I had placed around the house

to give a more “festive” feel. Holly.

 “Holly,” I spoke out loud. The dog turned his head to me. “Holly.” The dog came to me. Holly. His name was

Holly.

I spent the day with Holly, but knew I would have to return him to whoever he belonged to the next day. I went

up to the local animal shelter, which was surprisingly close to my house, and searched up for his owners.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t know about any owners with this breed of dog. If you’d like, we can take him in for

you.” I wanted to say no, say that I would keep Holly and take care of him. But I agreed, knowing that owning him was

just a fantasy.
Chapter Five

“ The day’s gone dark.

A moment not to pause,

For the time’s moving passed us,

Our life is held in death’s jaws.”

I finished the last of the poem I read out loud to the class and received an unenthusiastic applause. I had created a

poem for our literature assignment about one of the most precious items a man could have. Time. Time moved so fast

and it felt like the memories ran passed you in seconds and now they are slowly disappearing into the distance. It felt like

only yesterday was when I had left Holly, but soon began volunteering at the animal shelter. I felt as though it was just

yesterday that I met Peter, who was one of the only people that could make me smile with his optimistic personality. It

felt that only yesterday was the day my dad flew away, possibly never seeing me for a year or so. I took a seat by the

window and looked outside, mesmerized by the glistening flakes of snow that gently fell down.

The teacher began talking, but I drifted off and had forgotten how long the time passed. It was only when students

began getting up from their desks that I came back into reality. I looked around, trying to grasp what was going on when

I looked at the board. Partner assignment. I internally groaned at the thought, but decided not to get up. Most of the time,

I was able to work on the project by myself and get away with having to tell the teachers. But this was a class

presentation, meaning that I had to go up to the class, with my ​partner​. I felt dead inside and didn’t feel like having the

effort to move. I felt awkward having to walk around, looking for a person to partner up with. Usually the social groups

already have their selected friends and that applied for all the groups and the ones who are the outcasts will usually

partner up with each other before I could even come. I felt even more uncomfortable talking to students who were all at

minimum a year older than me. The tension was rising as I could feel several glares from some of the students and I felt

the need to at least stand up and walk somewhere. Just as I pushed my chair back to stand up from behind my desk, I

heard a knock on the front door. The door opened and I saw the school counselor standing at the doorway.
 “We have a student that’s transferring into this. I hope this isn’t too late into the semester that he can’t switch,” he

said to the teacher.

“Of course, not,” our english teacher replied. The quiet students anxiously peered outside the door to see the new

student. Walking through the doorway was a young girl no older than my age. She stood at around five feet tall and had a

curled up appearance. Her straight hair fell down to her shoulders, her hands tightly grasping her small, brown backpack.

Yet, it was not any of that which really had caught my attention. It was her large brown eyes. Her eyes seemed shocked

and scared, like how an animal’s eyes are right before death after being hunted down. Her eyes had a sense of tension, as

if she had been through hell and back. Her eyes were nothing I had seen before. It was heartbreaking.

The counselor left and the teacher spoke to her, “Welcome to our college course english class. What’s your

name?”

The girl replied in a silent voice, but not a timid voice; more of the sound of a person who came back from the

war would sound like, strong but scarred enough for the rest of their life, “My name’s Kim Hyoon.”

“Alright, Hyoon, why don’t you go sit by Bella,” I had been dazing off again, but snapped up at the sound of my

name. I looked at Hyoon, she looked at me with the same intensity before walking up and sitting beside me. I didn’t

know what I was feeling, but I definitely knew that Hyoon would be someone I’d be friends with.

We continued discussing about the assignment in school, I ended up being partners with Hyoon and soon enough

class was over. I barely knew much about Hyoon, she seemed someone who never would tell anyone about herself.

The next week, we were handed tests back from the day before. I had a perfect score, not surprising to me as I had

already learned the material a year ago, but many other students looked very disappointed and stressed. Hyoon was

handed her test back, her face distorting to an opposed expression. Slightly glancing down, I could see her paper, D+.

“Are you alright? If need any help, you can ask me,” the words came spilling out of my mouth before I could

close it. I didn’t like helping others, willingly, with their assignments, but something about her made me blurt out my

offer. “I’m free after school today, if you’d like to come,” I didn’t stop. I immediately was filled with regret as I saw

Hyoon’s eyebrows scrunch together.

 “Thank you for the offer. I actually do need some help with my work. Hopefully these extra hours of studying can

let me avoid my parents who are going to disown me after seeing this grade,” I smiled at her remark. “Where should we

meet up after school?”

“In the school library, if that’s okay with you,” I checked and she nodded her head in agreement. Hyoon was so

young and it didn’t seem that she would fit in with the class, so I took her in. She had the same hard outer shell as I did,

but something about her was different about her than me. She was afraid to ask questions and use extra help. She used

anything to get to the top.

After school, I met up with Hyoon and we studied in the main room. I felt disturbed by something. I knew I was

forgetting something to do something. It suddenly hit me. Peter. I was supposed to be tutoring him that day. I waved the

thought aside. If I was supposed to tutor him, he should’ve been at the library already. I didn’t mind it much as he was

often late and sometimes didn’t even show up at the sessions. I continued studying with Hyoon and we began talking

about our schools.

“Not to be rude or anything, but you don’t really look ‘Korean,’” Hyoon pointed out.

“Oh. I’m half asian and half American,” I replied as if it wasn’t a large deal. I’ve been asked on many occasions

about my race. I didn’t mind it anymore and it just became second nature to reply the same answer over and over.

“So, you live with your parents?” Hyoon asked. I twitched slightly at the question. I hadn’t been asked much

about my parents. Hyoon looked slightly ashamed asking me after seeing my reaction, but I tried not to overreact and

tried sounding neutral about the topic.

“My mother passed away when I was very young,” I said with hardly a strain in my voice. “I was raised by my

dad, but he travels very often and isn’t at home with me.” My tone started sounding strained and slightly agitated, but I

quickly covered it up by asking Hyoon a question, “What about you Hyoon? You’ve never talked about your family.”

Her eyes widened partially, she was clearly masking her true feelings, feelings of agony, pain, fright, death. “Uhh,

it’s kind of complicated…” her words trailed off slowly, trying to have the awkward silence make the topic change.

I could see her discomfort so changed the topic to a lighter question. “Anyways, what school did you transfer

from?”
 Hyoon looked relieved and she replied, “Daegu high school. I went there for half a semester before moving to this

school. I was homeschooled before that.” I tried looking surprised and interested, but expression was not my forte.

“Anyways, not to be rude or anything,” I cited from earlier in the conversation and Hyoon smirked. “You look

quite young to be in high school. How old are you.”

“I’m thirteen, but I’ll be turning fourteen this December 30,” she replied confidently. I was shocked and

absolutely amazed by Hyoon. The look on my face must’ve been hilarious as she began laughing and slapping the table.

It was the first time I heard her laugh. It was filled with such purity and innocence, I was mesmerized, in a complete

daze. I snapped out of my trance and tried to focus again it had already been two hours after school had ended and I

decided to wrap up the session with Hyoon.

As we walked outside, we heard an ice cream truck, which stopped several yards away from us. Even though it

was winter, ice cream was still a delicious treat to eat.

“I’ll buy some ice cream,” Hyoon ran off to the truck as I waited by the school. I looked around at my

surroundings. The air was chilled and I pulled my jacket closer. I waited for a moment when I looked to my right. There,

walking down the street engulfed with a crowd of friends was Peter. I didn’t feel so cold anymore. I felt heat rising up

inside of me, my ice cold hands closing into tight fists. I didn’t know why I was so triggered by seeing Peter lazily

walking beside his friends. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t shove the feeling off of me. I stormed up to him, pure fire

about to be spit on him. He saw me walking towards, giving a slight surprised reaction but concealing it as quickly as it

was shown.

“Why didn’t you come to the library? I had been waiting for several hours but you still didn’t show up!” I

bursted. His friends gave him a questioning look and back at me, wondering who this girl was and what she was talking

about.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter, and I almost let my guard down, “but who are you?” His friends laughed and Peter gave

them a sly smile back. My cheeks felt burning hot, but I wasn’t ashamed, I shouldn’t have been. His friends saw my

reddening cheeks and started ​oohing ​at him. I felt someone’s hand grab my shoulder, knowing that it was Hyoon, but I

didn’t look back.

 “You think this is funny, don’t you? I am devoting my time to help you with your grades but you don’t care about

anyone but yourself, do you,” I started raising my voice, growing with anger. “You can go ahead and laugh and pretend

that you don’t know me, if that’s what you want to act like in front of your friends.”

Peter glanced at me and then to his friends, “What is this girl talking about? I know I’ve had many crazy girls

running after me, but now ​this​ is way too far.” he joked around with his friends and looked at me with what seemed like

forgiveness in his eyes for what was about to do, but it all was a misunderstanding, “You girl, buzz off and stop being so

clingy.”

My heart dropped, feeling as though it was falling for eternity just to plummet into certain death. Hyoon took her

hand away from my shoulder. She quietly gave me my ice cream cone and walked in front of Peter, staring for a while.

“Oh what now, I guess I’m already a lady charmer in this school,” Peter laughed with his friends “I bet-” He was

cut off by Hyoon slamming her ice cream cone onto Peter’s face.

“Don’t you say lies just to make yourself look better than you can ever imagine to be,” every single word from

Hyoon came out sharp and attacked, as if she had fired bullets at them with no pity nor remorse for her actions. She

turned around and grabbed my wrist dragging me a few feet away before quickly coming back to Peter and his group.

Looking him in the eyes, Hyoon kicked Peter’s ankle as he crumpled to the ground. She walked away as I followed,

hearing the groan coming from behind us fade away. ​There was a tightness in my walk and I tried not to think about the

previous events. I already had enough problems to deal with. I didn’t want to have more problems. I didn’t need him to a

problem for me. If I truly wanted him to be out of my life, I shouldn’t have looked back. Yet, that’s exactly what I did.
Chapter Six

I looked back. I looked back to see what had happened. It was tragic, but everything happened so fast I felt as if I

couldn’t remember anything. I tried to think of what happened. What happened? Why could I not remember. It was July

already, but only yesterday was it winter. What did I forget? I opened my closely shut eyes and looked around. I was

lying down on my bed in my house. I shrieked out in pain. My head began aching again and I massaged the temples of

my forehead. What had gone on? I felt like crying. Remembering was so hard.

I walked down the stairs into the kitchen. My dad was lounging at the dinner table working on his laptop. I

grabbed a piece of bread to eat.​ Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, but I knew there was a feeling, a presence of

something different that I couldn’t remember. ​I was still light headed as I was only released no more than a week ago

from the hospital. I shuffled up the stairs again and plummeted down onto my bed. There was something wrong. I felt it,

but I just couldn’t think about it. I groaned at myself, wondering if I would ever get my memory back. I rushed out the

front door and started walking to the library, trying to get a grip onto my thoughts. I took the prosaic route to the library

and looked around. On the way, I had accidentally bumped into a woman who was probably in her late twenties, though

it seemed as if she was much younger.

“I’m so-” my apology was cut off by the woman.

“Bella! How have you been. It’s been awhile since you’ve visited the animal shelter. You should come by soon,”

she piped up cheerfully. I gave a questioning look, but gave a fraud smile and nodded my head, my pace increasing as I

walked away. Who was that woman? What was she talking about? I thought she might’ve just mistook me for someone

else, but that still wouldn’t have explained how she knew my name. I tried to shrug the feeling off, but I felt as if I knew

her before, someone I couldn’t remember? I continued walking to the library, my mind fogged up with thoughts again.

An hour or so after visiting the library, I received a call on my phone from Hyoon. It seemed as if she was the

only person who I did remember, though not completely. She and I talked for awhile before asking me to come over to

her house. I agreed, as it wouldn’t seem so weird to come by and visit her.​ I thought that she was just going to have a

friendly conversation with me. It turned out to be more than that.

 I rang the doorbell of Hyoon’s house, which the door almost immediately swung open with Hyoon standing at the

doorway, as if she was sitting behind the door, waiting in anticipation for my arrival.

“Bella! Great to see you! Come inside! Come inside!” she said excitedly, nearly dragging me inside. She was

acting strangely, but I didn’t mind it, believing she was just happy to see me back on my feet.

“How have you been doing?” Hyoon’s chipper voice didn’t match her expression. She was hiding something. I

could feel it.

“Good, I guess. I wasn’t ​that​ badly injured, was I?” I stuttered while I spoke the words, slightly caught off

balance.

“Not in poor health or anything, right?” she asked cautiously.

“No,” I replied and becoming suddenly slightly pestered, “Gosh, you shouldn’t worry so much about me. It’s not

like your my doctor or anything.” I tried to joke, but her facial expression that had turned stone-hard just moments ago

kept its shape.

Hyoon lightly gave a breath of exasperation and said, “That’s nice to hear. Now, Bella, we’ve been close friends

for longer than you can imagine.” I nodded my head in understandment. “This is why I’m so sorry for anything that

happens today.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused by what she meant. Just as I was about to ask her to clarify on what she was

saying, a person came walking into the living room. He was around the average height, about five feet eight or so. He had

a slight build in his body, but was lean like a runner. His dark black hair looked as though it needed a slight trim, his

bangs brushing barely to the right, covering his eyes partially. I looked away as our eyes caught each other. I looked

away, having that feeling of seeing him before. I couldn’t remember when or how, but it gave me a deja vu feeling when

I saw him.

“Bella?” his voice was sweet as honey and I nodded my head without any hesitation, succumbing to the sound of

him. He walked closer, soon, his face barely inches away from mines. I tried backing my head away before realizing that

it was already pressed firmly against the back of the sofa. His arms were on each side of me, blockades from me escaping

him. My upper body curled up tightly together as though he was infected with a disease that I tried to get away from. My

eyes slowly shifted from the floor to his face. His lips looked soft and tender, a rosy pink in the dim lighting of the house.
His eyes drove inside or me, piercing me with the feeling of familiarity. I tried looking away, but his gaze was too strong

to detach from. I pulled my eyes away, already suffering from the feeling of knowing a stranger. He looked down,

slightly embarrassed and pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Hyoon apologized, “She still has recovered her memory yet.”

Peter​. What an odd name. Had I met a person named Peter before, or was it just me? I saw the two of them

conversing, quietly now, too quiet for me to hear without them noticing my presence.

“How can she remember you, but not me?” the boy, who I guessed was Peter, began raising his tone into a whiny

sound. Peter and Hyoon began bickering and I became a bit stressed from them. I had just stood up when their attention

was drawn to me.

“Bella,” Peter said with almost a voice of need, “Do you know me?”

I tried saying no, but nothing came out of my mouth. I lowered my gaze, embarrassed to not know this stranger.

He heaved a sigh, all his hope being drained away. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, feeling that I had to say it though I didn’t

understand why I did.

“Peter, let her be. I’m sorry that she doesn’t remember you, but you’ve already gone too0 far. I mean, putting a

memory enhancing drug into the iv that she was hooked up to in the hospital. I know you’re desperate for her to

remember you, afraid that she might never remember you. But it’s time to let go. It’s for the best,” Hyoon pulled Peter

slightly back away from me.

“No, no,” Peter tried to argue against her, “She has to remember me. Why can’t she?” Peter grabbed the my arms

trying to pull me closer, shaking me abruptly. I tried pushing him away, yelping for help, finally ripping his hands that

clutched me like a prisoner. Peter stopped, realizing the hurt he caused me and tried to step forward but was stopped by

Hyoon who had slapped him in the face.

“You need to go now,” Hyoon yelled in a booming voice that would’ve made anyone tremble in fear. “Go away.

Go and never see Bella again. That’s the best way to not hurt her.” Peter obeyed her and immediately left the house.

Hyoon turned to me and spoke to me in a softened tone, “You should go home. Get some rest. I’m sorry about

what happened today.” I nodded my head and silently left her house. At the doorway I called out to Hyoon.

“It’s not your fault this happened. It’s no one’s,” I tried to lift any burden that Hyoon might’ve carried.
 I continued to heal, to get better from the state I was in. No longer homebound, it had already turned fall, and I

was able to attend school and my regular classes again. Time to time, I saw Peter in the hallways, silent and never in a

cheerful mood. I continued to wonder what had happened in the past six months, how I came to know Peter, why could I

not remember him.

Now as a senior in high school, I had much more responsibilities and hardly any time to think about the past

weeks. I ate lunch by myself in the library, where there was so much comfort and warmth that filled in the gap my

memory still hadn’t recovered from. I was at peace with myself and everyone around. My grades were on top. Everything

seemed to be just perfect. Yet, there was still a large gap, a hole in my heart, for reasons I didn’t know. I didn’t

understand why I couldn’t seem to be happy and content with the life I was living in. But it wasn’t my life. It was like a

dream, simply unreal, just a fraud imagination from the mind. It felt… artificial, something was wrong, but what? I

continued deeply interpreting my thoughts but came to a brick wall in every path. There was no right solution that felt

right when I tried to fit in the pieces. Well, all but one. There was a connection of resemblances, a piece of identity stuck

with the least expected person at the time. Peter. I dismissed the idea from my head that constantly rang up and continued

to bother me. I became irritated and decided to go onto the rooftop of the school to catch fresh air, which wasn’t very

“fresh” because of the area I lived in. I sat outside on the bench, staring through the wired fence, that prevented any falls

from the rooftop, and peered into the distance, seeing the thin outline of the sea. I closed my eyes, relaxed, trying to

ignore all my problems. For an odd reason, I felt that I had been up there before, even though I hadn’t even gone on the

school’s roof, nor even knew that there was access.

After a while, I heard the door to the rooftop open. I turned around to look at who might’ve come onto the roof.

When seeing the person, I stood in my position, frozen still. Peter was standing by the door, mouth gaping slightly at the

sight of me. He was just as surprised as I was, each trading a stare of confusion as if asking each other ​what are you

doing here?​ I tore my gaze from him and tried to pretend that he wasn’t there. I proceeded to look through the fence into

the suburb. With the corner of my eye, I saw Peter taking a seat close to me on the wooden bench. I scooted several

inches away from him and tried to avoid any eye contact. The silence was awkward but the feeling of breaking it sounded

even more awkward. I could tell that the feeling was mutual.
 Finally, tired of the quietness, I cleared my throat to speak, “How did we meet?” Peter glanced at me, but didn’t

the answer. I tried asking another question, “What’s so important about me?” Peter barely looked at me this time. I

became a bit angered by his silence. I started asking random questions to make him uncomfortable, “So, we date? Or do

you have a girlfriend already? Was I the side-chick? Are you cheating on someone? Are you married? Did you marry

me? Did we have-”

“Stop,” Peter cut me off suddenly. All I was trying to do was create a lighter mood, but he apparently didn’t think

it was funny.

“Sorry,” the word barely scratched and came out of my mouth. We sat quietly again. Silence. Absolute quiet

silence. I shifted my head to look at him. He didn’t even shift his eyes to look at me. I knew that I had angered him. Yet,

there was a sudden feeling of fighting back against him. I had apologize with sincerity, but there was an urge of feeling to

slap him in the face.

“The library,” Peter said almost so quietly that I couldn’t hear him.

“What?” I questioned him.

“We met at the library. I had recently changed schools,” he explained to me.

“How did we meet?” I further asked him.

He chuckled slightly and said while continuing to stare through the fence, “You were tutoring me, but I came

late.” I suddenly scrunched my eyebrows together in slight agitation, which a smile appeared on Peter’s mouth, though

he didn’t even take his eyes off of the sea. He continued talking, “And you were so angry at me for being tardy.”

“Definitely sounds like me,” I grumbled. I quietly said to myself, “How was even able to stand him for a day?”

Apparently Peter had heard me and looked at me.

Dead serious, he looked me in the eyes and said, “Because…” he paused, looking the ground to gain courage to

look at me again, “Because you loved me.”

There was disbelief in my eyes. I couldn’t believe what he had said. I shook my head vigorously, refusing to

accept what he had said, “That’s not true. I don’t know you. How can I love you?” I tried to fight against it, but I knew it

was true. It shouldn’t have been. I didn’t know this person. Or did I? I stood from the bench, bowed at him apologetically

before running off back into the school.

 The rest of the day, my mind was clogged with the words Peter had said. ​Did I really love him?​ I questioned to

myself. ​Who is he? Why do I love him? ​I couldn’t deal with anything. I couldn’t deal with what was happening with me. I

didn’t understand, didn’t want to care about what Peter had to do with my life. I had so many questions running through

my mind. I couldn’t think properly. I remember my teacher telling me to focus, which had never happened to me before.

I refocused back on my learning to only wander off into space, the mystery dominating my mind. I tried to avoid my

mind and get back into my work, but I felt exhausted. My brain hurt from constantly refusing to face my problems. My

head ached, I rubbed my eyes to wake myself up from the trance. I tried to grasp the rope of sanity I was slipping off of.

The last thing I remembered was my eyes closing, everything becoming pitch black dark, and a large thud.
Chapter Seven

I woke up on a hospital bed. There was sharp pain on my left arm, which was when I realized that I was hooked

up onto an iv with needles poking into my skin, my blood veins. I shivered at the thought. I never liked blood. Never.

Seeing or thinking about anything blood related made me slightly light headed from the thought. I tried not to notice in. I

peered at the room I was sitting in. The prosaic walls were all colored a simple beige color and there was a window on

the left side of the room. Light shed inside and the mint green curtains looked translucent, almost ghost-like. Beside the

bed was a bed table and next to it was a chair. A chair that was filled by a person sitting. My vision was still blurry and I

was only able to see the outline of the figure. My head ached whenever I had lifted my head off of my pillow, so I rested

it back into the warmth of the bed and went to sleep.

The next time I woke up, it was dark outside and the lamp on the table was lit up. I was able to clearly see a

woman. She was lean and tall, sitting with a straight posture. Her leg was crossed over the other one, her pencil dress fit

her with a snug look. Her short hair was curled into a bouncy looking bob that nearly reached her shoulders. Her

complexion was fair and she had the looks of a business woman. The woman was probably in her forties, but she looked

no older than thirty. Her cheeks were thin and her face had an uptight expression, almost making her look scary as a ​you

will do as I say or face the consequences​. Something about her seemed quite familiar, but I couldn’t place my mind on

who she was or who she resembled. I lifted my head to look at her without the large fake plants, that was also on the bed

table, covering her. As soon as I moved, she faced towards me. I pretended that I hadn’t noticed her, but she soon stood

up from the seat and walked towards me. Bowing her head slightly as an expression of greeting me, she spoke to me.

“Ms. Lee,” she began, “I am sorry for the state that you are in,” I was about to speak about the situation before

she continued on talking, “but you must stay away from my son.” My expression shifted slightly because the woman

looked slightly agitated, looking at me as someone would to a slimy slug.

She sighed slightly but began elaborating, slower and with simpler words as if I wasn’t able to comprehend her at

a higher level, “You go to the same school as my son at Shinhwa High School. He transferred last year into the same

grade as you.” I nodded my head in understandment, but I still didn’t understand who she was talking about, who her son

was. She started walking to the other side of the room to look outside through the window, “You two have been with
each other for awhile.” I began thinking of who I possibly would’ve dated or been with, but my thoughts were cut of by

her speaking again, this time much more serious and harsh, “I’ve told you to stay away from him. We agreed that it was

the best decision and you had promised to never see him again. Yet, just the other day, I had received a call from the

hospital because they said he was here. I was confused until I came into the room to see him sitting in that chair right

next to you!” Her last words came out as an outraged yell. I was so confused about what the woman was talking about

and I wanted to ignore everything that she was saying. She didn’t look at me and stared at the city that was lit up, with

lights slowly dying out. I could tell that she was on the verge of tears of hate and anger. I didn’t want to anger her

anymore, but I was dying from curiosity who she was talking about.

“Uhh, ma'am,” I tried to be as polite as i could, knowing that she was someone that I didn’t want to anger, “But,

who ​is​ your son?” she whipped her body around, her fists closed tightly and her teeth clenched tightly.

“Who do you think?” she asked rhetorically. After a quiet pause, she answered with almost a softer tone of voice,

“There’s no one that would be with you except Peter.” ​Peter?​ Her words rang repeatedly, I almost said his name out

loud. My eyes widened in shock. Now, more than ever, I felt like my whole world was collapsing without the support of

my memory. Who was Peter? His identity was even more mysterious and more needed than before. I tried to hide my

expression from the woman. I closed my eyes in slight pain as I struggled to sit on the bed.

“Mrs. Park,” I began, “I am absolutely sorry for this. I misbehaved and stepped out of line. I will not come into

any contact with you son again.” I tried to ​sound sincere about everything I had said, but truly had said it just to end the

conversation with her. I saw her temper boiling to only a near point before exploding. Peter’s mother must’ve not known

that I had lost my memory as she looked down and nodded her head. She nodded her head at my reply, bowed me

goodbye and left the room.

As soon as she had left, I plopped down onto the bed and then immediately groaned from the pain. I felt guilty for

lying at Mrs. Park, but I had to. There was no other way that she would’ve understood the problem I was facing and

probably would’ve believed that I was lying. I felt more determined to know who Peter was. I had to know soon, I had to

know now.
 I was released from the hospital the day after and went back home. At the hospital, I had asked if anyone else had

visited me at the hospital, wondering if my dad had come to see me. When they told me that only Peter and his mother

were the ones that visited me, I felt slightly confused why my father hadn’t visited me.

At my house, I looked for my dad but he was nowhere to be seen. That seemed odd as he usually always checked

on me. I tried thinking about what was going on, but there seemed to be this fraud feeling that what I was thinking was a

lie. I shook off the feeling and went up into my room. I lied down on my bed and stared up into the ceiling. My muscles

were sore though I hadn’t exercised at all and my eyelids soon closed shut.
Chapter Eight

I woke up, or at least I thought I did. I looked out the window and saw that it was dark outside. But that wasn’t

what had shocked me. My bed wasn’t my bed, or the current one that I had fallen asleep in. It was much smaller and I

somehow found myself tucked in the colorful comforters even though it felt much too hot to be under the covers. The

entire bedroom was completely different, one that I hadn’t seen in years. I was back in the house my dad and I had lived

in in America. Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be a hazy, almost dream-like, filter. The room was brightened by

the warm glow of the lamplight. I was able to enjoy listening to the complete silence coming from outside the house, not

one busy street, not one vehicle. The air smelled fresh and much more pure than in Korea, or what I was imagining it as.

My mouth felt parched and I slipped out of bed to grab water. That’s when I saw my reflection in the mirror that hung on

the door of my room. I was always freaked out by mirrors when I was younger, believing that it was a window to another

world, another realm where evil spirits roamed. I heard the steady steps that creaked on the wooden floors walk closer to

the bedroom.

Opening the door was my dad. My dad, but so much younger, so much brighter, so much… merrier.

“Already out of bed, Bella?” he asked in a stern, but teasing voice, “I just tucked you in.”

His voice. It was a sweet, deep, rich sound that warmed my heart to near tears. Oh how I missed hearing him. But

all of this seemed like a lie, a false creation of the mind.

I wanted to ask him what was going on, what happened, why I was so young again. Instead, words that I didn’t

think of came out of my mind, as if someone else was controlling me, a simple puppet, “You didn’t tell me the story and

I got scared.” I felt so empty with those words. It wasn’t me who said that. It wasn’t me. This all felt so… ​artificial​. It

felt as if this was just a play for the audience, rehearsed lines and unwilling decisions that aren’t our own. My dad, no.

Someone who looked like my dad walked me over back to my bed with a smile that charmed almost anyone. He tucked

me back in bed and sat beside me. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right, but something forced me to believe that it was

right, nothing but the truth.

“Alright. I’ll tell you the story. But you have to promise to stop waking up from bed, ok?” I nodded my head,

something nodded my head, “Get comfy. This is going to be a long story.”

 I slightly squirmed around to find a comfortable position while my dad cleared his throat and began his story. One

that I’ve heard so many times that it was engraved into my mind.

“The story of these two lovers was romantic, but ended a tragedy…”
Chapter Nine

Sometimes, the best moments of life are short-lived compared to the struggles that must be faced. Many people

tend not to notice it until they’ve finally lost their only essential meaning they had in life. Nothing fills them but

emptiness, desolation that buries what would’ve been a happily ever after.

The cry of a baby filled the room. The creation of life, regeneration, came along. If only life had been that simple,

but everything the child faced was anything but simple. Because the baby had been born into a poor family, nothing

would be easy for him. The first years of his life went by quickly, and his mother became ill, his father was dead. He took

the responsibilities of his parents. Everyday, he tended the crops, fed the children, maintained the house, attended school.

At the end of the day, he was left with an aching back, sore legs, cut up hands that left them rough, covered up in calluses

and scars. He never complained, never received special treatment or was given much of anything. Yet, he made use of

everything he had, pushed himself past his limits. And finally, the pain, the hardships, the had finally taken him

somewhere. He was given the opportunity to a better education, a better future, a better life. So, he left.

Living on the other side of the world was a young girl, beginning to grow up to a beautiful woman, Her long

brown locks of hair fell to her shoulders and wore elegant clothing matching her dainty figure which made her, in a way,

quite ostentatious. She had grown up in a wealthy family, cushioned by the lavishes of the rich society. Because of that,

she was never pushed out of her comfort zone, not understanding the reality other people faced in the world. Soon, after

time, she learned about the struggles, the anxiety caused in life; she experienced it herself as well. She began to

emotionally deteriorate, rebelling and descending to nothing but another subordinate. Later on, she had to grow up and

mature, finally pass through the childish fights, the careless actions. She had left her home to start anew, trying to find a

better future for herself.

The girl and the boy attended to the same school, not noticing each other at first. They didn’t step in the other’s

way, didn’t bother or care. The boy always felt like he was chasing after the girl, who constantly ran away from him. But

soon enough, the girl began falling in love with the boy as well. It seemed almost instantaneous that fate had pushed

them together and made them become inseparable. Their love for each other lasted for a long time and after. They

would’ve lived happily ever after if it wasn’t for the girl’s mother, who was not delighted about her daughter who chose
to be with a poor foreign man. Because of her mother’s dignity, it caused her to choose the worst choices. What kept the

two fighting every day? Hope. Love. They had experienced too much to let everything go. They couldn’t let go then. At

last, they fought endlessly for what felt like eternity and believed that they finally won… but they were wrong.

It had been nearly three years after the since the man and the woman had left to a different country. They were

now a married couple and the woman had given birth to a young baby with warm brown eyes and dark locks of hair, skin

and looks seemed nothing but perfection. Each day, they were wary, in fright of being caught by her mother. On the night

that they had let their guards down, they were captured by the girl’s mother, their child went unnoticed. The daughter

was tied up, forced to watch her husband brutally hit, stabbed, punched until he was nearly dead. She screamed, restlessly

shaking, trying get free, but it was no use. At last, her mother took out and pointed a loaded gun at the man, her finger

wrapped around the cold, silver trigger. The gun blasted, the man flinched from the sound, but he didn't feel any pain. In

horror, he saw his wife lying on the ground clutching her stomach, a crimson red liquid spilled out from. The man was

too stunned to process what had happened, wishing that he had been the one dead. He shuffled to her, frantically trying to

save her from dying. She stopped him, grabbing his shaking hands as a plea to stop.

He was pulled slightly closer to her in which he heard her say in a meek whisper, “The child. Save her…” Her

hand that had once been clasping the man went limp, her last breath exhaled. There was nothing facing the man but an

empty body lying in a pool of blood. Before a simple good-bye to his wife, she was gone, gone and parted from the

world. The man tried to fulfill his wife’s last wish, but his whipped back stung, his bruised bloody legs gave way

whenever he even tried to stand up. He saw her mother shakily reloading the gun in her hand, her eyes filled with

something worse than hatred, as though it had never had any remorse or sympathy. Just for a second, he wanted to stay

still, let the bullet penetrate his bruised skin and kill him, let him die from the world of pain, suffering, agony. But as he

closed his eyes to accept death, he remembered his wife’s sacrifice, her promise he had to keep. ​Save their daughter.

The man’s eyes lashed opened and he moved away from the gun moments after a loud bang was heard and the

smell of gunpowder and sulfur filled the air. His left thigh was still grazed but he managed to find the strength to lift

himself and run away, fighting off all the guards that swarmed him. He bore his grounds, found his way back home,

found his way back to his daughter. His daughter seemed to be on the verge of death as well. The man cradled her in his

large coarse hands, soothed and comforted her, he cared for her. She was the only remembrance of his wife, a gift, a
curse. He soon moved back to his home country with his daughter forever hiding her from the wrath of his dead wife’s

mother. Still to this day, he is running away from his past.

Chapter Ten

He finished the story, bringing back me from this story that brought me to tears every time I heard it. The story

was just as I had remembered word for word. ​Almost​, word for word. And the story that once brought me to tears? Am I

laughing at it? I couldn’t believe it. I shook my head, dizzy from this illusion. ​Illusion?​ It finally dawned upon me.

“Wait, this isn’t real,” I blurted out. My dad, or whoever, whatever, it was looked at me with concern.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, “This is all real.”

I shook my head vigorously, “No. NO!” I screamed, “This is just a dream. None of this is real!”​ Instead of

looking concerned, the figure gave a sigh, looked down so I couldn’t see his face anymore.

“If that’s what you want to believe,” the sound of my dad’s voice began to distorting, “Then be that way.” His

head snapped up and he looked at me, his sudden appearance changed so much I moved back from the horror. His face

was melting away, revealing a disgusting face. The face had sunken cheeks, an evil grin with sharp rotten teeth flashing,

his eyes a deep crimson color, almost looking as if it was stained with blood. His figure shifted to a long, bony structure,

bones jutting out of the pale, translucent leathery skin of the creature. The scene changed to my current bedroom, I could

see everything but wasn’t able to move. I screamed for my life, I tried so hard to scream. It was useless. I wasn’t able to

wake up. I tried to get out of the covers of my bed, but it held me back, a strap to hold me down. I screamed, but nothing

came out of my mouth. The figure engulfed with a dark, shadowy presence started crawling on top of me, ready to strike

me at any moment, any moment I would’ve been dead. I tried with all my effort to move, to cry for help. Just as I lost all

hope when the figure pulled back its hand that held a long, silver blade that was stained with what looked like the blood

of its other victims, I let a small squeak from my mouth. I was suddenly brought back. My eyes shut open just as the

blade would’ve made contact with my skin. I took a large gasp of air, my heart racing, beads of sweat on my forehead. I

sat up. I sighed, relieved that it was just a dream. I took the covers off of me without a single problem. Except one. I had

slept without the covers on… I was so puzzled and my heart started racing again. I felt a slight movement of air on my
back and I leaped out of bed and ran out the room. Looking back in the room, I just realized the I had been fantasizing

too much. But dreams like that never occurred to me. Only when death is near. I shivered, thinking of who was going to

die.

These dreams of death occurred to me often when I was a young child. One time when the dream occurred, my

neighbor had died the next day from being trapped in his burning house. Another time I had the dream, one of my friend

had gotten into a car accident the next week and died several days after from severe injuries. The last time I had the

dream, I was in fifth grade. My close relative, the only one I knew had died nearly a month after the dream by

suffocation.

I tried not to think of it. I moved myself out of all suspicion and continued on with my days, several hours of

sunlight was left in the day.

Chapter Eleven

The next day at school, I had avoided Peter all day, my intuition telling me that someone was watching me,

keeping a close eye on my actions. After the suspicion of someone watching me was gone, I decided to talk to Hyoon

privately.

After school, I looked around for Hyoon. After spotting her, I ran to her, nearly running her over from the speed I

was going. Hyoon nearly jumped from fright after I had scared her.

“Hyoon,” I began, “can you come over to my house today? I need some help with my math homework.” I lied out

of mouth, still acting cheery as if there was no problem. She gave me a confused look as she knew that I obviously didn’t

ever need help with my math homework. She opened her mouth to oppose, but soon realizing that I was just creating an

excuse for her to come over. She looked behind me, probably realizing that someone was watching me.

“Sorry, I thought I saw someone from my old school,” she lied. “Of course I can come over.” We exchanged

looks of understanding, as if we were able to understand each other without saying anything. We walked together to my

house, Hyoon’s hands inside her pocket on her hoodie for the entire walk. I immediately knew that she had the same

feeling as me that someone was about to creep on us. She always carried a pocket knife in hand as she had been assaulted

on several occasions before.

As soon as we had reached my house and were safe inside, Hyoon asked, “So, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” I said in a low voice, “Someone’s going to die in a month.” Hyoon was taken aback and it seemed that she

took my words the wrong way.

“Are you,” she stuttered, “planning to ​kill​ anyone?” I seemed quite surprised at her answer as she looked slightly

relieved from my expression.

“No. It’s not that. I’ve had a dream, a dream that nearly ended in death.” she gave me a confused look, “Look, it

doesn’t seem that I’m in my right mind. But listen to me. I’ve had similar dreams like this in the past. And every time

they happened… someone close to me died not long after.”

 Hyoon looked frightened, scared that I might be referring to her, “No. No. That can’t be. There must be a

reasoning for this. This can’t be happening.” she grabbed my arms to assure me that I had just been dreaming, that none

of this was real.

“Hyoon, please listen to me,” I was now shaking her, trying to grip her into reality, “I need to know how this

happened. I need to know what happened in the past year. I have to regain my memory… at any cost.”

Hyoon began tearing up, but I had no idea why. I held her hands, directing her to the living room, slowly calming

her down.

“Please, Hyoon. I need to know what happened,” I pleaded with her but she kept on shaking her head.

“I-I can’t,” Hyoon was crying, sobbing massive tears. She kept on repeating the two words. ​I can’t, I can’t, I

can’t​. I gave a sigh of exasperation, but didn’t know what to do.

I had begun to cry as well until finally, I had calmed her down enough to have her speak a few words. She took

several deep breaths before in complete silence.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened. My memory will eventually come around. I’m sorry,” I apologized to

her and stood up to leave the room. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me down.

In a quiet voice, she said, “I’ll tell you.” I sat down, ears open, my attention completely drawn to her, “It all began

from last Christmas…”

Chapter Twelve

“We were walking back from a study session. I had recently earned a bad grade and you were helping me with

my homework. You had also been tutoring Peter that time, but he rarely showed up and when he did, he was always late.

He didn’t show up that day and you were quite frustrated, so I had brought us ice cream while you waited near the

school. When I turned around to look for you, I saw that you were talking, or more like fighting, with Peter, who showed

up with a group of his friends. They were teasing you, so I came and helped you. That was the last day you were ever

upset with him. Soon, you forgave him, made up, became friends again. But it turned out you two became just more than

friends.

On Christmas day, he gave you a necklace, one with a heart, your initials carved on the back. You never left it

anywhere and wore it everywhere you went. You two started growing fond of each other, started loving and caring for

each other. ​But on New Year’s Eve, you left without a trace. It was only until a week after did you return, unsteady of

yourself, scared. You said nothing to us, you left Peter, you left me.

A month later, you had settled down, everything seemed to become normal, or as normal as it could’ve been.

That’s when the problem began again. You avoided me, fighting with Peter constantly. You looked heartbroken, sad,

miserable. You finally had broken down. And for reasons why, I don’t know. Disputes continued for another month,

reasons I didn’t know, it was just you and Peter that were fighting now. You said you didn’t want me in the mess. But I

couldn’t help it. I decided not to listen to you. Now, there’s nothing but pain inside of me of what happened. Lives lost,

never going to come back. The image of someone I knew was gone, replaced with a monster… you had changed. I hated

and resented you for what happened. I never talked to you, ignored your calls and texts. And that was the worst mistake

of my life.

You had called me more than a dozen times that night, but I didn’t pick up my phone. Not once. And I hadn’t

regretted it at the time. It was only late in the night was I called to the hospital. And there you were, soaking wet, blood

stained around your body, surgeons with masks moving you across the hallways to operate on you. I sobbed for the rest

of the night, thinking that you might die. That what I could’ve done to save you. I was traumatized.
 You woke up in a few days, I was so relieved that you were still alive, but anxious, anxious because I thought

what you might say to me if you remembered what had happened. But when I entered the room, you just smiled at me,

not remembering anything that had happened in the past months. You remembered everything but what had happened

from last Christmas. You had remembered everything but Peter. You remembered everything but the most important part

of your life…”

My eyes teared up. Warm drops of tears rolled down my cheeks. I sat there, silent. I had nothing to say. I couldn’t

say anything. So I sat there, crying.

Hyoon left a few hours later and I was still in the same position I had been.​ I went into the kitchen, hungry as it

was nearly midnight before I was able to even move. I looked inside the freezer where I saw a small wrapped piece of

chocolate. It was one of those chocolates that was expensively made with the finest ingredients, sold in a golden shop

that might as well be a palace. I never recalled any memory of buying any chocolates. I opened the oddly familiar

wrapper and broke it in half. Inside was placed an almond perfectly in the middle. I was actually allergic to nuts, and

quite surprised to even have it at my house. All of it looked so familiar, something I felt I had seen before. Before I had

even thought of it, I remembered. I begun remember what had happened. It happened from looking back.
Chapter Thirteen

I looked back. Peter was on the ground in pain. The wintery cold air shivered up my spine and I turned away from

him. I continued walking with Hyoon back to my house. I was silent for the whole day. Instead of feeling anger, I stayed

in my room for the rest of the day. I felt horrible, I felt empty inside. I felt guilt or sorrow, I don't know what it was, but it

shouldn’t have been feeling that. I didn’t eat dinner that day and went straight to sleep.

The next day, I had avoided Peter, who had been following me around the entire day. I didn’t want to talk to him.

I knew he didn’t want to talk to me, but he still came to me, trying to talk and apologize for the other day. I didn’t want to

hear his apology, I didn’t want to forgive him. And I knew that if I heard him, listened to him even for once, I would

regret it immediately. Several times, I walked passed him in a hurried manner in the hallways of the school, avoiding him

in classes and any free time we had outside of class. I tried to forget him. Forget him…

I had been walking my normal route from home, when there was a detour in the area from a car accident that had

occurred several hours before. I had to take a new route that I was still unfamiliar about. When I reached my house, there

was a basket on the front doorstep. I took the basket inside the house, lifting off the blanket that unveiled what was

inside. The basket was filled to the brim with chocolates and sweets. Inside was a letter. ​I’m sorry, can you please forgive

me? -Peter.​ I was slightly filled with rage. Why did he send me this? How did he know where I lived? I didn’t want the

basket and threw it aside, ignoring it for the rest of the day.

In the halls of the school next day, I looked around, trying to spot Peter, gripping the candy basket in my right

hand. Finally finding him in the crowd of students, I made my way to him. He looked up from his phone, seeing that I

was walking toward him. I stopped a foot away from him before shoving the candy basket at his stomach. He grunted

slightly from the air I knocked out from him and gave me a confusing look.

“I don’t want it,” I said through my gritted teeth.

“It’s supposed to be an apology basket. Don’t you know what that is?” He asked rhetorically and shoving the

basket back at me, “It means you’re supposed to keep the candy.”

“Well, if you had even a single brain cell, you would know that that’s not how you apologize,” this time I

dropped the basket onto the floor and stormed off the halls.
 I had cooled off later in the evening and I was outside in the balcony of the school again. I pulled my mind from

the idea, but it kept on wandering back to the point and I had finally given up fighting with myself and gone up. I was

working on my homework on the bench in the balcony rather than staying cooped up in the library all day.