o1

Kwon Na Ra.

Kwon Na Ra.

My name is Kwon Na Ra.

Who am I?

The pen nib cuts through the thin paper surface, dark, black ink seeping through the paper as she cancels out the last line. Her hand trembles, just slightly, before she continues to write.

My name is Kwon Na Ra. I am nineteen years old. I have an older brother and a younger sister. I study in Chulyoung High School. My name is Kwon Na Ra. I am nineteen years old. I have an older brother and a younger sister. I study in―

What’s the point?

“This is useless,” she mutters half-heartedly under her breath as she cancels out the last line and continues to write. Her hand feels sore from all the writing; it’s comparable to a little kid doing lines for something he did wrong in school.

But Nara did nothing wrong. Or so, she thinks. All she did was to forget some things. Some little things.

“You’re getting distracted,” she reminds herself, noting that her psychologist doesn’t react well with Nara’s constant distracted mind and her possible inability to focus on anything for more than five minutes.

Focus. It’s the only way to your full recuperation.

Her psychologist’s words pierce through Nara’s cluttered thoughts and immediately sets the young female back into place, copying out the same few lines on a light blue notebook, realising that she had only ten minutes to complete her task before the doctor comes in.

Knock knock.

“C-Come in,” Nara utters, placing the expensive fountain pen down unto the neatly organised table as she turns and looks expectantly at the door, her fingers intertwined together with her growing nervousness.

Dr Shin Haerin enters with a glowering smile on her face; for someone who’d just hit mid-twenties, Dr Shin is one of the most successful careerwomen in Seoul, and one of the most renowned psychologist.

Also, one of the most expensive.

Maybe that is why Nara’s parents opted for her to receive treatment here.

Receive treatment. The phrase sounds sour in Nara’s head, it almost sounds accusatory, as though it is mocking her for what she is lacking―

“Nara? Are you distracted again?”

Nara blinks before realising that the psychologist was talking to her. Shaking her head lightly with a small smile, she replies, “maybe just a little, Dr Shin...”

Dr Shin frowns. “That’s not pleasing to hear, Nara. You need to―”

“Focus. I know.”

“Okay,” Dr Shin offers a small smile, touched that her patient actually remembers what she has been saying for the past few days. Picking up the blue notebook and flipping through the pages, the doctor nods her head contentedly, the ends of her lips quirking up in a small smile of approval. “You’ve covered much for one day, Nara. You must be tired, you can go home now. I’ll see you on Sunday for the next treatment.”

There it is again. The word ‘treatment’. It makes Nara think as though she has an incurable disease and also feel like she is some sort of a lab rat in a way.

“Nara? You can go now.”

“Huh? O-Oh, okay...” she whispers softly, pushing her chair backwards, cringing at the scratchy sound of plastic against marble floor before dropping down into a quick bow and leaving the room that smells unnaturally like antiseptic, even though it’s a psychologist’s office.

Nara’s thought train derails at the thought of the only possible use for the antiseptic.

Other patients hurting themselves in the same, white room.

And then she is suddenly glad that she is much more sane than the other patients Dr Shin has to settle with.

 

____________________________

A young man in his fresh twenties with bleached blonde hair lingers around the entrance of the hospital Nara goes to, checking his watch every now and then, rapping a slow song under his breath as he waits.

“Finally,” he mutters, when a familiar young lady, not much younger than himself appears behind the polished glass doors, pushing them open, her face emotionless.

“Nara! Yah, Kwon Nara!”

He waves his hand in front of her face, trying to catch her attention yet fails, having the latter walk right into his outstretched arm. Nara finally looks up, her veiled eyes clearing.

“Oh, it’s you, oppa.”

“Which oppa?”

“Kwon Jiyong oppa,” a small smile appears on Nara’s ghostly pale face, “the one and only older brother of Kwon Nara.”

“Good that you remember,” Jiyong teases, punching Nara’s arm playfully. “Mina had me come and pick you up just in case her precious unnie forgets the route home.”

Nara scoffs, punching the older male back with surprising strength. Jiyong yells, faking a cry of pain as he rubs his arm, a definite pout fixed on his face. “How could you! You’re a lady, Nara. A laaaaaady. Behave.”

Nara laughs at her older brother’s reaction, but once her eyes land on his insistent pout, her smile fades off.

Jiyong spots it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

It takes a lot for her to gather enough strength to smile weakly back at him and say nothing.


A flash of white light.

Red. Red liquid everywhere.

A smile. His smile.

He smiles at Nara, his trademark 'bling bling' grin before his lips mould into a small pout.



The memory cuts off abruptly, almost like how a camera’s flash goes off, temporarily leaving her mind blinded from everything esle.

“... Nara? Yah, Kwon Nara, are you okay? Don’t scare me!”

She turns around stiffly and stares at Jiyong blankly for a few seconds before she blinks, as though a translucent cover had been covering her eyes and subsequently removed, clearing the imaginary cloud that seems to be covering her eyes.

“Nara?” Jiyong tries, his voice wary, having noticed the sudden change in his sister.

“I-I’m fine!” Nara stutters, trying to gather up a small smile but instead winces as a sharp pain pierces through her head. Instinctively, her hand flies up to support her head, clutching at it lightly as though she could squeeze the pain out.

Jiyong glares at her. “You sure?”

“Just having a small headache...” Nara sighs in defeat, smiling weakly. “Nothing I can’t beat. I’m Kwon Nara, remember?”

“The car accident sure beat a heck out of Kwon Nara, don’t kid with me. Let’s go back, now.”

Nara winces at Jiyong’s steel-like grasp on her wrist, pulling her towards the direction that they had come from. “Oppa!” Nara squeals in annoyance, trying to pull herself away from the stubborn boy. “I’m not going back to that place!”

“Do I look like I care―”

Nara rolls her eyes, and despite being pulled along at a strength and speed she cannot compete with, she pulls at Jiyong’s arm before twisting it at an odd angle, locking her brother in such pain he immediately lets go of her.

“Ouch,” Jiyong glares, rubbing his arm. “First you punch my left arm, now you twist my right arm?”

“You asked for it,” Nara shrugs lightly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her head as she turns around and continues down the street in the opposite direction.

“Women,” Jiyong mutters angrily under his breath, rubbing his hurt arm harder. “Yah, wait for me!”

 

____________________________

“Where’s Mina?” Nara asks, knowing that their apartment was simply just too quiet to be true.

“Out,” Jiyong replies simply, shrugging off his dark leather jacket. “By the way, you might want to check out the fridge. Mina probably left some Post-Its there.”

“Mmm,” Nara nods, side-stepping the mixture of clothes carelessly strewn on the floor as she enters the kitchen. The smell of freshly made coffee lingers in the air as she goes over to the colorful, Post-It-ed fridge.

Nara scans for the latest entry, a bright-pink, apple-shaped Post-It, pulling it off when she finds it.

Remember to write something in your diary, okay? And also, go and read it. I finaaaaally found it. Your room is darn messy. r _ r - Mina

Diary? I had a diary?

She sticks the Post-It back onto the fridge, pressing down the sticky part hard against the shiny, silvery surface of the refrigerator before leaving for her room.

Maybe, just maybe, her diary can explain the seemingly empty feeling she feels; almost as though someone who was supposed to be there, is gone.

Maybe.