The door was like a gateway to hell. All except for the fact that it was well shut, even locked at that, even when she lived alone. It was locked.

On her side with her right arm folded up, her hand underneath her head like another pillow her eyes found the door through the dark, that magnificent barrier of protection from unwanted outside forces – brown, solid, and heavy. The wall of protection.   

Adjacent from the bed all was silent as it had been ever since Chanyeol left her. She could hear the digital clock forming a new number as the red numbers folded. Namjoo watched, remained still as if waiting for the knob to turn, for someone to rap their knuckles against the solid. To hear someone on the other side.

Nothing, because she was alone.

Only…if it weren’t for the music continuously rising in volume until it became menacingly annoying. Flinging the blanket over her she stepped down from the bed and slowly stepped toward the doorway. Either someone had broken in or she was going nuts. Namjoo would only believe those were her only options to choose from.

She believed someone had broken in.

As skillfully as she could she quietly twisted the little button on the brass knob, cold to the touch. Outside the bedroom a tiny corridor stretched out toward the rooms of living. It was empty. A hollow nothingness floated back toward her as she stared into the beyond, searching, figuring, calculating.

Her ears hurt from the high volume pounding the walls like hands slapping tabletop. Ghosts could be having a ball in her living room and she wouldn’t know it but nothing was there. Namjoo might not be able to see the non-existent but she could as hell feel them when they wanted her to. And right now, she could feel nothing, no one.

The large window in her living room allowed an ominous blue light of the night to flow into her home. At the end of the hallway – if somebody had been there at all – she would be seeing shadows.

Flicking the light switch on her left on a string of bright light lit up the corridor like day. The music still played, the bass underlying the melody thudding deep into her lone home very much like an intruder. Her heart was in rhythmic unison with it. Namjoo’s blood almost churned wildly. She was all sorts of calm but she would admit she felt something was off and it made her insecure, doubtful.

What if the woman above her was right about that woman?

“Hello?” Namjoo called out to no one.

Silence.

“Who’s there?” she asked more determinedly.

Her eyes roamed the emptiness in front of her, the melodic music of Chanyeol’s CD still spinning on its wheel inside that darn machine she should have thrown out earlier. Suddenly irritated she hissed, “You’re not welcomed here. Get out.”

The CD skipped sounding like a horrible TV set with its volume breaking on and off, on and off. Then after a second it smoothly played again. A deep growl vibrated from within and stomping forward with the bravery of 1,000 soldiers she swiveled on her heels, entering the dark kitchen.

There was no window in that three walled room. The blue light glowed behind her as she stared toward her left, her eyes deep on the counter where the CD player was being a menace to her consciousness. Namjoo angrily reached to pull the plug out but her hand swung out into midair and that was when she realized that black cord was where she’d left it. Snatching the CD player she tossed it to the ground, listening to the material break.

Suddenly relaxed in her mild fit of rage she turned to look behind her, searching and searching.

Nothing.

Biting her lower lip she stomped back down the hall, hit the light switch, and slammed the door to her bedroom. Twisting the lock back in place she stared at the brass doorknob then turned and climbed back into bed, under the sheets. Curling up with her back to the door she shut her eyes.

For hours it felt like she had dreamed a peaceful dream. Then she woke up like every day, had her cup of coffee, and drove out to work. During midday she’d eat at the local restaurant she often frequented with her husband, sit there, and eat a club sandwich while thinking about how he’d be enjoying his grilled bacon cheese and sandwich across from her. After satisfying her stomach’s hunger she’d leave and make the drive to Daepo Jusangjeolli Cliff.

Once during a team member training she’d met Chanyeol at Daepo Jusangjeolli Cliff.  Fresh out of college with no lead to follow in life, still searching for the path designated for only her she’d joined an international company working the office life as so many other people did. Chanyeol, like her, had shared the same mutual feelings – his troubles and concerns about chasing unknown dreams needed to be realized.

They had spent a friendly evening watching thunderous waves crashing against volcanic rocks just talking and talking as if they’d been neighbors their whole lives. Namjoo immediately felt drawn and connected to him, and they’d stayed in touch after quitting the company. Then they’d gotten married and he’d left her behind.

Life moved really slow and then really fast. It was unfair.

Within the mere count of a few hours she was stumbling her way up the grassy place toward the cliff’s edge. Waves were roaring below and birds crying in the high skies. She was experiencing the power of nature with the sunlight glowing on her back as if cooking her alive. Stalking toward the edge Namjoo peered down below to the gigantic, sharp, dangerous rocks. One blow to the head would most likely have her brain spilling out.

As she neared the point something appeared in front of her. The figure of a tall, thin man. Those well shapely legs had been hers on the most intimate of nights. Namjoo’s eyes skimmed up to the head of brown, his tall height obvious to her short stature. Then he spun around handsome as ever. Glowing and so handsome as he had been on their wedding day in black tux and shining black studio shoes.

Chanyeol smiled broadly. Those crescent white teeth of his shone through so pridefully. He was ever so striking. He was her husband but she knew he was dead.

Namjoo opened to call out. No voice. Desolately she shook her head, eyes sinking in despair as she trudged forward with heavy feet. Chanyeol held that smile before slowly vanishing, fading like water into a towel. Then he was gone before she could touch him. Suddenly the restraints on her feet became loose allowing her to hurdle herself forward. Within a moment’s haste she was at the edge, staring below now she saw the white blue rush of waves crashing into the side of the cliff.

“Namjoo, move!” she was sure it was Chanyeol’s voice but at the turn of her head something rock hard slammed into her upper back, forcing her to fly forward into doom.

A grunt bellowed out of her when landed on face forward onto the hard floor of her room. A sigh gently moved through the gap in her lips before she heard some kind of movement behind her. In her sleepy daze she blinked, her mind lagging. As her eyes hit the wall she noted some kind of dim shadow leaning over her from the bed.

Suddenly awake, she pushed herself up and noticed a crease on the empty side of the bed – the side that belonged solely to her deceased husband. The dent from the weight disappeared as she stood. Namjoo stared bewildered, lost, and greatly confused. A knock on her door made her turn.

Walking out of the room down the hallway she pulled the front door open to find the same old woman from yesterday, standing on her doorstep. She smiled kindly in a way that spoke to her apologetically for waking her so early.

“Hi, yes…um…what can I do for you?” Namjoo asked.

“You look tired, dear,” the woman smiled. “I want to thank you for not playing any music last night.” Then her eyes skimmed over her shoulder, “It looks like you two didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Namjoo’s brows inched together then slowly turned to look behind her. There was nothing. No soul. No body.

Turning back to the lady not sure what to say she lightly smiled, “Yes…um…you have a good day now.”

Trying not to appear bewildered Namjoo quietly closed the door. Her mind filled with thoughts of caffeine she headed into the kitchen, pausing the second she stepped inside. Her eyes drooped toward the ground where she’d left the CD player last night in shambles.

It wasn’t there.

Her eyes immediately lifted up toward the stove then abruptly toward the side looking as good as new. A rush of thoughts splashed through her mind before she plugged the cord in, hit the ‘power’ button and waited belligerently for the damn thing to come to life.

It didn’t.

“What the hell…” she muttered and reached up to scratch her shoulder while in thought only to realize the back of her shirt was damp. Trailing down the hall back to her room to change her shirt she realized her back was bleeding.   

#

“Those cuts don’t look nice,” the nurse treating her commented, dabbing a cotton ball over the wounds. “They’re all the way down to your shoulder blades. Did you, perhaps, get into some kind of catfight at the club last night?”

Namjoo laughed at the light joke. “All sorts of dancing last night, oh yeah.”

The nurse smiled, “I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Park.”

“Namjoo’s fine.” The thought of being called by Chanyeol’s surname was like a punch to an already bruised heart.

“These really do look like someone scraped you hard,” the nurse commented. “Perhaps, you’ve been a little too rough in bed?”

Namjoo breathlessly laughed at the weird suggestion. “My husband…isn’t here anymore.”

“Ah…I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Namjoo insisted before the woman let her pull her shirt down over her back. Then she slipped off the bed and watched the nurse swipe open the curtain that had protected her privacy away. Namjoo jumped with a slight yelp brushing out when she spotted a woman bleeding from the face on the other side. The hospital uniform draped over her body made her look like a patient from a mental institute which didn’t really help the situation at the moment.

“You!” the woman her finger out, yelling from the depth of . “You! Get away from her! Run! Run! Get away from her!”

As she opened to scream terrified, her eyebags turning darker in hue, more hauntingly purple. The cuts on her faces bled more as her expression contorted terrifyingly. Her pupils increased in size as she screamed, now just a roar soaring from . The patient was like a wild animal with threatening sounds rumbling from the deep of .

No sound, no words, no more screaming. Nothing but something which sounded very much like a dog growling.

Namjoo stared appalled, shaken, unsure how to react as she remained glued there by the bed. The male nurses tackled the woman trying to come at her, biting, her eyes bulging, and hands curved inward and knuckles shining white. She struggled in their arms, tugging herself forth like a mad dog.

“Get me a sedative!” one of them scream.

Once the woman went limp in their arms and escorted away Namjoo left the hospital. The patient had been in a vicious car accident was what she’d been told. She may have been talking nonsense. Namjoo nodded politely but as she walked out of the hospital she could still hear the woman growling – a sound which didn’t sound very humanly to the ears.

Goosebumps arose on Namjoo’s skin and she hugged herself. It was suddenly very cold. Tightening hands on her arms she rushed down the stairs and into her car. She would make a quick trip to the supermarket then head home and relax.

Luck didn’t seem to be on her side that morning. She got stuck in traffic no less than five minutes after pulling out from the parking lot. The red light was just up ahead, any minute now and it would be green. That was all until her stomach dropped, grips tightened on the wheel, and something in the air became heavy. The coolness she’d felt earlier had followed her.

Namjoo felt her eyes shift toward the rearview mirror.  

Something was with her.