v. to escape or avoid a certain situation, or person.

she had always loved working at seraphina academie. it had been her dream job ever since she saw her neighbour set a child aflame in a moment of frenzied, uncontrolled panic. her neighbour couldn’t contain the fire within her, and so it bled from her hands and the life of that precious child.

this traumatic experience budded in her a desire to help people, special people like herself. to aid in their pursuit of mastery over their abilities which, in consequence, would reduce the tragic loss of innocent lives. a lovely dream which played out in almost perfect synchronization with reality. great pay, great working conditions, great colleagues―simply delightful.

well, except for one tiny smudge.

“soonkyu, any updates on the conditions?”

a faux-innocent smile greets her when she refocuses on the screen. ah there it is, she muses in tart derision. see, while it is basic etiquette to address work environments with a certain code of conduct, the man on the screen has an entirely different notion on etiquette and its applications. in his twisted, demented mind, etiquette means, among other things, unnecessary invasion of soonkyu’s privacy, repetitive midnight calls which have compelled her into shutting off the phone once it is 11:30 pm, and his latest penchant: asking questions he knows soonkyu has no answers to, just to engage her in conversation. she sincerely hates him―but then again, she hates most men.

“none that i know of,” she nearly snaps, her rationale checking her in place. calm down baby girl, it chides in a comforting tone. this tortuous meeting will be over soon, and then you can go get some cake.

because that’s her go-to incentive in moments like this: cake.  

“miss jung, how about you?” the man needles unenthusiastically, redirecting his gaze to the female standing beside soonkyu, who wastes no time in whipping out details like a well oiled answering machine. while she recounts incidents and facts, soonkyu relapses back to her cake inspired fantasy, dreaming of the half-eaten chocolate mousse in her fridge. until her last statement catches her off guard.

“ . . . there is something wrong with condition 24 though.” miss jung relays matter-of-factly, flipping through the file cradled in her arms. thin, aristocratic fingers stop at a page, then, she flippantly pushes the page to the screen, pointing to a certain detail below an identity photo and a series of entries. “she hasn’t reacted to any of our treatments, even though it’s been over two years now. and while on occasion she demonstrates vital life signals, compared to the others, sir, hers are rather implicit.”

his approving nod serving as encouragement, she continues, “a little prick in the finger, a little jolt here and there, but otherwise, she remains immobile.” retracting the page to herself, she adds as an afterthought, “it’s almost as though she were dead.”

her words crawl into soonkyu’s skin like bacteria. it’s almost as though she were dead, it’s almost as though she were dead, it’s almost as though she were dead. and a deluge of white hot panic rushes through her brain, down to her extremities, nearly sweeping her off balance. no, no no, it can’t be! they shouldn’t have noticed! she internally screams, trying her hardest to maintain her composure under his virulent gaze. she can’t react in anyway that would portray the slightest interest. she can’t let him know.

“in that case,” he finalizes, oblivious to soonkyu’s inner plight.  “give it three more months. if it doesn’t react at the close of the third month, then we will have to take some extreme measures.”

she feels the need to bite at him, she’s a she, not an it, you imbecile! but instead she blurts out, “wh-what kind of measures, sir?” the sickening gust of nausea wades through her chest like high tides and in her distress she barely notices that she’d addressed him politely, nor that her nails are now digging into the mahogany surface of the table. hard enough to create visible claw marks. she is too distraught to pay heed to anything but the surprising ease of his voice, the frosty resolution and irreversibility of his decree, we will have to take some extreme measures. how can anyone be this cruel? she purchases, brain pulsing at a maddening frequency. three months? what can be done in three months?

as if he can read her thoughts, the man on the screen pauses, and regards her with an indecipherable expression. and for the very first time, soonkyu is scared. she is terrified of this clown parading as a dictator―of this monster on the screen.

“we’ll get rid of it.” he whispers, eyes widening in a mock delusionary trance.  soonkyu’s face hardens like plastic, and if he notices, he pays it no mention.

“well, this was a nice meeting ladies.” he finishes, slumping back against his chair. miss jung bows in acknowledgement and walks out of the room before he says, “soonkyu darling, please stop ignoring my calls. you’re hurting my heart.”

the lewd wink he gives her is enough to make her blood boil, to make her want to tear his black heart from his chest and show him what real heartache feels like. but then she realizes there’s no time for vindictive violence when a life is in danger. she has to do something, and fast.  

she can’t let them take her away.

they won’t take her away, she will make sure of it.

at this point, sooyoung isn’t even surprised to be repeating level one for a second time. like a favourite pair of jeans, she’s grown accustomed to the familiar texture of failure. instead, it is the comments from her schoolmates when they see her in the plain white shirt and navy blue pleated skirt totemic to all level one students, that catches her off guard.  the sheer brutality of their words.

“wait, is that ghost girl?” someone would gush, pointing at her. “in first level again? oh my god!” then another would scoff in reply, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, “isn’t this her third year here? christ, is she really that dumb?” and they’d both laugh, little harpies in the form of young girls.

sooyoung ignores their caustic giggles despite how much they affect her, dismissing them as white noise as she walks out of the guardian’s office and makes for the glades. true to their words, it is indeed her third year in level one. and while there are a couple of dispiriting repercussions to this, sooyoung likes to focus on the positive. she has become a pro at understanding the school’s labyrinthic topography, and thus she knows where pretty much everything is.

the academie is set in the middle of a forest clearing, some three hours away from the capital. during her first year at seraphina, a student in one of her classes had asked a teacher why the school was located in such a secluded area. in reply, the teacher said that a collection of powers so diverse as theirs required enough space to practice their abilities and live comfortably, without any obstructions. back then, sooyoung had thought it clever and sensitive, whereas now she believes it is actually a bull excuse to exclude them from everyone else; they themselves, are the obstructions.

not that she complains though, she’s learned to love and appreciate the year round fresh air, evergreen trees, and the harmonious buzz of nature soaked in the glades. looking around, she can already foresee all the fun and exciting solitary activities to be orchestrated over the course of the school year. solitary, because her lack of friends is sort of legendary. to the extent that she’s become a meme in the eyes of her schoolmates.

“i’m sorry guys, i’m going to read now.”

“really?  you sure ghost girl isn’t affecting you?”

[laughter]

ghost girl. one of her many acclaimed, albeit derogatory nicknames. a name she tried to ignore but answered to anyways because sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. there was also flower child, given to her by a former dorm mate, wheein, when she discovered sooyoung wore a perpetual primaveral scent that was as unusual as it was pleasant. this one she liked more, because to her, flowers were beautiful creatures and