4.

I awoke to a glowing expanse. The white was so intense that instinctively, I reached to cover my eyes. However, the reaction was met with immobility. Noting my arms had no intentions of responding to the messages my brain delivered, I instead squinted, struggling to make out the dark shapes that began appearing like spots in my vision.

'… rin...?'

I heard a voice. Faint. Muffled.

'Sae... rin...?'

It was a lot clearer this time around, and quickly placing it to be my mother's, it took a moment for my vision to return to me and shades foreign bled into the once stark white surroundings I awoke to. It was a room; the details unclear at this point. But it was shortly replaced by my mother, who now stood over me, staring at me like I'd just dug myself out from six feet under.

'Mum?'

I made to ask, but then came the pain. My lips took a second too long to part – feeling terribly cracked and dry – but the moment they did, a soundless wince escaped me. My chest; especially the left side; felt like someone had pounded it in, throbbing and pulsing grotesquely, feeling infinitely worse every time I so as breathed. I had a migraine; the contents of my skull clenching and holding with no sign of reprieve. I made to move my right hand almost immediately in response to the barrage of excruciating agony, but once again, it refused to comply. In fact, the more time I spent coming to, the more I began realising that the upper right side of my body from the chest up was numb.

I panicked. Felt a sickly terror stir at the pit of my belly. However, the sudden exhaustion I felt kept me from falling even deeper into the chaos that was my current condition.

'What happened to me? Am I in a hospital?' I struggled to muster, instead scowling at my mother whose eyes I slowly noticed were puffy and red, and swelling all over again the more she looked at me.

What on earth was going on? I had far too many questions to ask her, but alas, I felt a spell of sleep being cast on me and with heavy eyelids, I slipped back into darkness.

The second time I awoke, the numbness in my right side was now replaced with contrary pain. It wasn't as bad as the perpetual feeling of something ready to break out of my ribs with every breath, but the pain came in pulses and was unmoving, as if there was a physical mass in my clavicle.

'Hi, doll,' my mother's voice was a lot clearer this time around, and I discerned her a lot quicker too.

'Does it hurt anywhere?'

I opened my mouth to point out the ribs and collar bone, but all that followed was a thickness in my throat that consumed my voice. Nothing but incoherent movements ensued. I frowned, attempted a few times more, and noticing my struggle and confusion, my mother intervened.

'Your throat's a bit bruised, but the doctor said it should heal in a few days,' she held my hand; her grip warm and firm. 'Your father's coming soon. He's still in transit in Shanghai, but he should be here tomorrow evening if all goes well.'

But then her eyes filled. It was a gradual process, I noted, where the more her gaze lingered on me, the more compelled she seemed to tear up.

'I'm so sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry for everything that happened.'

I couldn't understand what she meant by that heartbreaking apology. But days later when my voice returned; albeit in stages of clarity; and I healed enough to sit up in bed and be actively conscious of my surroundings, I learned a truth unimaginable.
 

'Saerin,' Dad smiled, kissing the top of my head first thing in the morning. 'How are you feeling?'

I returned the expression today with not a single sign of a headache coming on. 'Good, Dad. Well, better than when I first woke up in here, that's for sure.'

My father arrived after a two day flight and transit from New York, terribly dishevelled but still looking a fraction more composed than my mother. Ever since he began a two year contract working overseas, I always imagined we'd throw parties every time he was off work and could visit. But circumstances were now a lot more different than I always thought they would be. Instead of being in the warmth and comfort of our own home, we now spent our time together in a private ICU ward; me, restricted to my bed, and Dad either pacing about as he spoke or occupying one of the two chairs in the room.

'That's my girl,' he breathed a sigh of relief. 'When I first heard you were in an accident from your mother, I didn't know what to think. I'm just glad you're still with us.'

My smile faltered slightly at that. 'Dad...'

'I know, I know,' he forced out a laugh. 'It's not going to be like the last time. I'm just being paranoid. I know.'

Desperate to change the subject, I smiled again encouragingly, raising my legs from under the covers considering my right arm was in a cast and I couldn't move much of my top left side for fear of straining my recovering rib.

'Look, I'm improving. I'm going to be OK, so no more sad faces every time you guys come visit me. It's depressing.'

He laughed more genuinely this time, and I took a moment to look at him properly considering the last time I had, he was a lot less grey. He had stubble and even though he arrived three days ago, he still looked as if he were plucked right out of his office dressed in a white formal shirt tucked into black slacks and pointed leather shoes. He looked much older than he really was, at least.

'By the way, Dad...'

'Hm?'
 

I stopped, careful of the topic I had in mind because I was in fact too afraid to ask it. It had been weighing heavily on my mind since waking. But even though I was dying to get some answers, I was also anxious of what I might hear. Yet today, I thought myself fit and at ease enough to put forward the question.

'Where's Hansol?' I asked, holding his gaze nervously. 'I mean—I haven't seen him since, and we were together when the accident happened, so...'

The shift was evident. The entire room was suddenly dispelled of whatever contentment my father was capable of for that short moment, and his hands found each other, wringing restlessly between his knees. Something was not right. And the mere prospect made my stomach drop.

The door opened at that point and the moment Mum walked in – holding a flask and paper cups in her hand – I repeated, willing my voice to be steady, 'where's Hansol?'

My mother paused mid-stride; her eyes resting on me with the same unease she did when I had first come to. She glanced between Dad and I, looking for something, anything, and perhaps noting my growing unease, my father finally answered.

'He passed away, Saerin.'

'No...,' my voice rose with disbelief. 'No. That's not...'

'I'm sorry.'

I couldn't remember much of what happened after. Only that my parents held me when I felt myself quiver; hot tears invading my vision, burning my eyes, but it was nothing compared to the state of my heart.

It was just an animal attack. Some sort of dangerous animal, but was it capable of doing this much damage? Was it capable of taking a life? Of doing something never heard of before in this town? I had somehow managed to convince myself that it was a minor accident. That ever since I awoke, Hansol was in a similar condition as me and would soon appear, with concern and comfort to put me at ease.

But it soon occurred to me that what I imagined was just a small acciden