I left that night, not bothering to grab anything with me. There was a thunderstorm that night, but I just had to leave. Idon’t want to be fixed; I don’t want to be seen as just another broken machine to repair. At the touch Jessica gave me, I felt my father’s stinging slap, at every moment she looked at me with sincerity and warmth; I took it as my father’s glare of loathing. At this rate, I was only going to end up hurt. Huddling my jacket close to my body for warmth, I glanced back at my ‘home’ for one last time before I shut the door quietly behind me. Thunder and lightning crackled, rain pouring down heavily. I took the wrong night to leave. In this weather, I knew that I had no choice but to seek shelter somewhere else. I hated Jessica for accustoming me to a soft bed and three meals a day, hated her for making this difficult for me now that I was leaving. Last but not least, I hated the fact that she had instilled some hope in me that another stranger would take me in. Faintly, I had hoped for her to stop me and drag me back by the collar, but I saw no beautiful, blonde girl, only drunken men with scraggly beards and dirty clothing. Again, I avoided them, walking away. But I heard heavy footsteps behind me, trailing closely behind. I hate you Jessica Jung.

Jessica

I woke up to the loud banging of thunder. I sat upright in my bed, only realising that something was missing. There was no wailing, no whimpering, no crying, only silence that rang louder than the thunder. Quickly scrambling out of bed, I checked Tiffany’s room only to find it empty, the bed neat and made-up since the morning. It hadn’t been slept in yet.

“Tiffany?” my voice was still husky from sleeping, and it sounded so much like a failed, dying crow.

No response. Only thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Tiffany!” I dashed to the bathroom, but it was empty as well.

Desperately, I took for the door, grabbing my coat and phone along the way. I raced through the dark alleyways, yelling out her name. In the dark, cold weather, I stumbled over some glazy-eyed, slurring men who reeked of alcohol. I hurried past them and their wolf whistles, my concern only for Tiffany.

Tiffany

They were all around me. As I tried to aim a fist to their faces, my hands stopped an inch short. A hand enclosed over my fist, crushing it in his hands. A grunt escaped my lips, but that didn’t stop me for aiming another in his face. I found them being pinned to the wall against my back. Growling, I thrashed wildly against those strong, sweaty hands. I let out a cry as I felt the sharp, unshaven beard of one of the men against my neck and the men began to laugh at me, their chortling and guffawing clawing at m eardrums. Tears began to flow, but I held them back. I’m not weak, I’m not. As I felt his prickly beard leave my neck, I spat on his face.

“You’re a feisty little thing,” he chuckled gruffly as he wiped the spit off his face.

He snapped his hand back and brought it across my face. My face snapped to the side, and I tasted blood in my mouth. I breathed heavily when he ordered the men to hold me down as he began unbuckling his belt. But before he could lay his hands on me, his knees buckled and he hit the floor, groaning in pain as his hands covered his groins. A red-faced Jessica was behind him, a determined, furious glare on her face. The men took her on, but backed off when a couple more of their men fell to the floor in the same manner as their leader had. They fled, leaving me to face Jessica alone. I looked at her, hair plastered to her scalp, drenched in the rain and her clothes and slippers dirty from stepping into numerous puddles. Jessica was panting slightly as she shot a glare in my direction as well. I cowered away from her, expecting her to soften up, but she didn’t.

“If you were going to leave, you couldn’t have told me so I don’t have to go searching for you like this?” her voice was quiet, barely controlled.

I felt someone nudging me. Eyes fluttering open, the first thing I saw was Jessica’s mildly curious, yet somewhat firm and hard eyes. I rolled off the couch lazily, rubbing my eyes. I looked up at Jessica, whose eyes were slightly teary and bloodshot. Her movements were slow and uncoordinated.

“Why are you on the couch?” her voice was quiet and soft, as if she had no strength of voice out. She seemed much weaker.

“I…I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t think—” I quailed under Jessica’s glare.

“I don’t know what’s worse, that you didn’t think before you left, or you did think before you did.”

I avoided her accusing eyes after noticing some traces of hurt in them. “I’m sorry. I really am. Now, if you won’t take me back, I understand. I just wanted to apologise before I leave.”

She watched me with disbelief and frustration as I made my way to the door. I saw the muscles in her neck and her jaw jumping and hardening. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, which I found strange, as I had not cried at all during my five years out in the cold. She had turned her back to me as she approached the sink, grabbing a wine glass from the overhead cupboard. Wine glass? As my hand was about to twist the doorknob, I heard glass shattering and a frustrated cry. Jessica had hung her head over the sink, bloody hands supporting her body against the marble edges of the sink. Her shoulders shook slightly and she slammed her hands against the hard marble. Her blonde hair curtained her face, but I knew that she was crying. And they were tears of anger. She cries when she’s angry…

I slowly walked up to her, carefully avoiding the shards of glass littered all over the kitchen. I took hesitant steps towards her shaking figure and bile rose in my throat as I saw the small shards embedded in the flesh of her hands. I wanted to touch her, but I didn’t know how to. I wanted to hug her from behind, but I didn’t know how it would affect her. Instead, I held her wrists tightly. It was a different need now; it was the desperate need for someone’s company.

“Please stop,” I said softly and gently laid my head on her shoulder. “Please don’t.”

Her shaking reduced eventually, but she was still stiff to my touch.

“Don’t go running off like that again!” she made a failing attempt at trying to look tough and yelled at me, her voice cracking and failing her halfway.

I nodded, strands of her blonde hair brushing against my face. “I won’t. I promise. You can trust me.”

She barked a sarcastic laugh at the repetition of her words. Wincing, I knew that I had betrayed her of the trust that we had built up together by running away.

“I’m sorry. Running away…is what I’m used to. I—I don’t know what else I can do but that.”

“You could talk to me, and I didn’t have to chase after you thinking that something bad had happened to you,” she retorted shortly.

I didn’t say anything, but ran her hands under warm water to wash away the blood that had begun to dry in the short period of time. She flinched when the open wounds came into contact with water. Still holding onto her wrists, I made sure that no trace of blood was left on her soft, creamy skin. Five years out in the open had taught me numerous things; one of them being how to treat wounds. I had twisted both my ankles before and had to patch them up myself with everything I had. I had been limping for weeks after that until the wound finally healed. But there was always one wound which I could never heal; the gaping, bleeding hole in my heart.

Readers’ Note:

They get closer, and blah, blah, blah. Forgive me if this sounds boring to you guys, I was just too tired when I wrote this, which is 1:26 AM, while listening to SNSD and watching SNSD’s Hello Baby in intervals, so I’m sorry if my writing is bland here. Okay, I would be lying if I told you that I’m good at this. Oh well, here it is. Enjoy. And, by the way, how old do you guys think I am? Just out of curiosity. :)

Thank you for reading!

Yours Faithfully
Jazzign