6.

Four weeks after the accident and I found myself healthier than I'd ever been in a long time.

Gayoon had made it a habit to sit in with me during the exam period that was slowly approaching, and I appreciated her concern. After all, I had missed quite the number of classes during my time in hospital. And even though I spent extra time at campus with lecturers noting down what I had missed and acquiring feedback on assignments delayed, Gayoon nonetheless insisted on ritual study dates.

But then something most bizarre had occurred; a name that cropped up without my knowledge, coming to a head one day when I least expected it:

Wolf girl.

I liked to think that I had come a long way since the accident. What was once something I found difficulty speaking of and accepting was now an event that I accepted happened, and changed my life forever in the process.

Of course, Hansol's sudden death was still painful to come to terms with considering the brutal nature of it. But I had recovered from my wounds. I liked to think that I picked myself up from a spot I knew was easy to fall farther into.

Gayoon had – as I expected – asked about the incident, albeit a lot more reluctantly than everyone else did. Having known her a lot longer than the other friends I made on campus, I entertained detailed recollections of the event. Against my better judgement of the word 'wolf', I had laughed off the possibility with her, hoping it would ease my thoughts on the matter in the process. That it would dispel the torment the odd, recurring nightmares brought me some nights and would turn them into laughable dreams. But it did not.

We shared the amusement – how hilarious a notion it truly was – and I began actively convincing myself that perhaps my father and the detective were right. I made it a conscious effort to set aside my convictions and embrace a possibility more likely even though I struggled to buy into it. Even though my mind refused to let this conviction rest even in sleep. But such faced consequences I hadn't foreseen.

'What?' I laughed, but it was laughter short, confused and concerned. 'What did you...'

'Wolf Girl!' Gayoon appeared from behind, patting me on the back lightly to make her surprise presence known. 'Cool, huh? I bet it'd be the next big stage name in a couple of years.'

Beyond my expectations was an acquaintance I shared morning classes with greet me with the foreign title. I didn't know what to make of it... that was, until Gayoon had seemingly brandished the name about without my knowledge.

Perhaps noting my shock and disbelief of the name, Gayoon's mirth drained away. 'You don't like it, right?'

Betrayal. It was too meaningful of a word to describe what I felt, but even just a fraction, I felt betrayed. Certainly, I imagined the fact that I had jokingly described the perpetrator to her would be something that flew over her head the moment it so as left me. But to think it became a name I did not warrant – a name that was more inclined to ridicule than shared amusement – just showed how seriously my claims were taken, regardless of who I shared it with.

But there was a more cutting realisation to the name: the fact that everyone found amusement in it meant no one believed me.
 

I tried to show little of my pain and irritation until the end of the day. But Gayoon was more than intellectual enough to know of it when I cancelled our revision class today under the pretence of feeling unwell. She did not press the matter further, but the guilt on her face was unmistakable.

I returned to an empty house that day; a yellow sticky note on the fridge with my mother's handwriting informing me of her trip to a friend's house. It was the first sign of the return of my independence. I understood my parents concerns since the accident, but it was more than evident they couldn't constantly hover over me. Life was bound to return to normal, as it always did. And this was a sure sign; albeit a relieving one; of it.

Having my diet open to broader horizons now that I was more or less recovered, I plucked a bottle of mango juice from the fridge and a slice of fudge cake Mum had supposedly bought me this morning. I retired to the back porch where the sun had become a rich golden, spilling over everything and casting slanted shadows to the left. Shreds of fall appeared like this. The trees – thick, wholesome, shuddering in the warm wind – were gradually turning colour; healthy leaves reduced to a pallid grey that would soon turn bronze.

Summer. It was incredible how I had missed almost an entire month of it recuperating. The rest was spent on friends. Or more accurately, Hansol.

Sitting on the porch stairs, I reminisced the last summer he asked me to date him. It was a warm, lazy day at varsity. A group of friends and I had taken the long stretch of afternoon we had free until our last evening class to visit the sports centre.

Hansol and I had liked one another more or less around the same time. After weeks of having spent time with each other, I found myself looking for him whenever he wasn't around, constantly wishing he was close by. And perhaps I had wished hard enough. Because that warm day when we arrived at the centre, the soccer team's practice was underway.

The two of us had been teased relentlessly for secretly liking each other. And it wasn't until that day after mustering the courage – under duress by the amused girls around me – to wave at him from the bleachers, did he, after the football session, ask me out on a date.

It was incredible to think how my life had picked up from there on. How I was thrown into a fairytale world, prince charming and all, and had my future paved out when our relationship still went strong over the course of a year. I was under the impression that Hansol and I had something a lot more than just a boy meets girl relationship. That we would someday be a lot more than what we were. That we could maybe be married after some time and the fairytale would last forever.

The corners of my eyes stung. I had been foolish to believe I could move past his loss, but it was just as great as the last. Whatever convictions I had of being strong enough to get through the fact that he was gone forever were suddenly shattered.

And all because of one word: wolf.

I was suddenly irked by the sound of it. I was enraged for the turmoil it caused me, and yet it was the one thing everyone refused to believe was the cause of such disaster.
 

Feeling my appetite recede with the sudden flurry of emotions, I set aside the items in the kitchen and studied the wall clock. There were still three hours to sunset.

Already in trainers, a pair of leggings and a tattersall shirt from this morning, I made sure to grab my phone and the house keys before making my way out the front. I wouldn't be out long enough to have worried leaving a note behind.

I started on the same route I always did for my weekly runs. I knew better than to begin even jogging at this stage considering I had just reached a landmark in recovery as of late, so I settled for power walking, but still knew there were risks involved with such strenuous movements.

Following the highway, I stayed against the right of the road, travelling up. It was a long way to the top, but the peak wasn't my destination. Coming towards the almost unrecognisable curb in the road, I stopped. I turned to face the forest fully; the woods in which Hansol and I had passed through staring back. Even though it was still bright out, beyond the first few trees the forest was uncannily dark.

And the more I stared into the deep dark confines, the more I realised I had come out here on a complete whim. It was a spontaneous, however silly idea. I didn't know what coming all the way up here would offer me. Consolation? Something to satiate my wrath? Some sort of childish fantasy that the moment I appeared back near the start of it all, I'd catch a glimpse of the 'thing' responsible?

The sounds of the forest I once imagined were soothing had become unsettling. The sound of a hooting owl rose from the depths; twigs and branches snapping beside it. The more I stared into the terrifying darkness, the more my heart thumped in my ears. I didn't know what to expect of the leaning shadows; of the growing darkness the trees cast and the movement I couldn't believe I was seeing in front of me. Inching, getting closer, coming to light—

'God!'

I cried in fright, spinning around in time to stare down at a sle