"Turn on the dark, 

for I am afraid of the light."

Mieun threw the book across the room, shaking and sobbing. The book hit the wall with a thud and slid to the floor, where it lay forgotten. She looked at her hands in horror, touching her lips with one hand. She had touched him with these hands, kissed him with her lips. All she could think of were those hands that had embraced her, those lips that had once whispered sweet nothings in to her ear.

All she could remember was the fire coursing through her blood. She had once thought he was like a chimney fire, keeping her warm and safe from the cold that haunted her. But, no. He was an inferno, consuming her flesh and burning her alive without her even realizing it.

She had lost her soul to that devil.

Oh, how foolish she had been!

How blind!

For a moment, she wished. She wished that she had never been so curious. She wished she had not looked underneath the bed. She wished that she had just believed him. She wished that she could forget everything and just continue living in the dark. It was better to stay in the dark rather than live in the dark and suddenly see the light.

Because it burned.

The truth burned her. The sudden light was too much for her to bear. Yes,  it was better to remain in the dark even if it meant becoming the blind lamb led to slaughter. Better to never see it coming than to know. To know that it was there, waiting for her in the shadows.

Lurking.

Watching.

Waiting.

She curled into a fetal position, tucking in her head and pulling her knees close to her chest. She rocked back and forth, trying to control her tears, trying to hold back the hysteria, which threatened to overcome her senses.

But it didn't work. The hysteria came at her like a wave that wiped everything in its path. Suddenly, the four walls surrounding her did not seem golden. Instead, she saw a prison trapping her within with the lost souls. Suddenly, the decoration on the ceiling and the walls were no longer beautiful in her eyes. The intricate pattern seemed sinister and grotesque.

Her eyes were open now.

She saw it for what it really was.

Blood.

Blood painted and smeared all over the wall.

Terrified, she ran from the room, her white nightgown billowing around her ankles.. The frantic pitter-patter of her feet echoed throughout the house. But that wasn't all Mieun heard now. Now, she could hear the souls of the dead wailing eerily and feel them nipping at her ankles, scratching her with their nails.

And outside, the ghosts of the dead came alive.

For the last time, Mieun ran outside.

She didn't know where she was running, or even why. Her feet moved on their own. But as she ran, images flashed in her mind. Memories that had long since been forgotten.

Memories that were best left forgotten.

Pure fear gripped her, and she looked down at her dirty, bloody bare feet. In that moment, that second, instead of her feet, she saw the feet of a child. The torn, bloody feet of a child. She could feel the hot tears stream down her cheeks. She held something in her hands, dragging it in the mud.

She blinked again, and the image was gone.

She veered sharply to the left, her feet digging into the soft, warm mud. It was raining, lightly soaking her hair and nightgown. Splinters tore into her feet. Twigs and branches ripped at her bare flesh eagerly, as if they wanted to keep a piece of her with them.

The hem of her nightgown was torn to shreds, snagged on the thorns of wild rosebushes. She didn't even know where she was running. But every now and then, she would get a flash. She would see a certain tree, and it would conjure up the horrific memories.

And that's when she knew.

She had been here before.

Running deep into the dark, dark woods.

Pain shot up her spine as she tripped over something, and she was about to fall when someone caught her from behind, holding her in a tight embrace.

And she knew.

It was him.

"Hello, dear," he murmured, his breath stirring the wispy strands of her hair. "Looking for me?"

Mieun screamed, pushing him away from her. Because all she could see were the bloody, severed body parts in front of her. All she could see were the grotesque designs carved into the flesh, the patches of skin flapping in the wind. She looked down at her feet, covered in the blood, which converged into a little puddle.

He her cheek, leaving red smears. "Isn't it fascinating?" he asked. He drew a swirl on her arm, and she slapped him away, stumbling in fear. "I always found it beautiful. The vibrant color of fresh blood," he continued his little reverie, tracing patterns on the trees, the bodies, and her. Always her.

But Mieun wasn't listening. All she could remember was the cold, pale, stiff dismembered arm. All she could see in her head was the exact same pattern traced into the surface. All she could think of were the disjointed fingers and the silver bracelet, stained with blood. The same scarlet red that covered her, before and now.

She shrieked, over and over again, clutching her head. Everything was getting out of focus; her vision was smeared and spattered by blood. She did the only thing she could think of. She did the only thing that her innate animalistic told her.

Run.

And so, she ran.

She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that she had to run. She could hear the footsteps thundering behind her. But it wasn't enough. Running didn't solve anything. It didn't stop the warm blood trickling from the back of her neck.

It didn't stop him from touching her.

He leered at her, yanking her face upwards by her hair as to force her to look at him. He traced the lines and contours of her face, lightly tapping his fingers against her chin. He traced the blade thoughtfully across her neck. He lightly pressed the tip of the blade into her cheeks and behind her ears as he drew with his skillful, practiced hands.

She shuddered, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. He caught one on the pad of his finger, inspecting it with a brooding gaze. He looked at her, "Why are you crying?"

She gasped, choking out the words. "You. It was you....you're a killer. A murderer."

His eyes became icy chips of obsidian. "You," he growled, "You looked under the bed, didn't you?" His hands fisted around her slender neck, tightening. "I told you not to look under the bed!" He shook her like a rag doll, slamming her repeatedly against a tree. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the world spinning around her.

"That's why you were running, wasn't it? You were going to leave me. You were going to leave me." He pounded his fist against the tree, shattering the bark.

He laughed, a crazed, desperate sound, "You know, when I saw you again that night, I thought I was finally in paradise. I thought that my soul could finally rest in peace. I thought that my soul could finally stop roaming, lost in search of you. I thought that everything before had just been a nightmare. I thought that you had finally come back to me."

His nails gouged deep scars into the tree, shredding the soft bark. "I was wrong. You just came back to hurt me again. You came back to kill me again." He chuckled darkly, her face, "You say I am the killer? Look again. Look at yourself. You're the killer, the murderer. They say that lovers resemble each other.  You're the monster.  You just love to kill me over and over again."

There was an almost dreamy, wistful tone in his voice. His eyes stared into the distance, gazing at something that Mieun could not see. "You know, I wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect our love. I told you not to look under the bed for your own good. Why didn't you listen to me?" Mieun could almost touch the tangible pain in his voice.

"I locked you up for your own good. Everything I did was for your own good. Why can't you see my heart? Do you want me to cut myself open for you to finally trust me?" Keeping her in a chokehold, he dragged her back to the clearing, flinging his hand in a gesture towards the mutilated bodies. "I did this for you! I did this all for you! Every drop of blood was spilled for you!"

He laughed, shaking her by the throat until she could no longer breathe. The wild, maniacal sound bounced off of the trees. He staggered around, clutching his stomach in pain. He let go of Mieun, letting her collapse to the floor, her face turning a purplish hue. She took a shaky gulp of air, her breath rattling in .

A flash of metal caught her eye. She saw the dagger, half-hidden in the grass and dirt. She cast a furtive glance at Daehyun who was busy splashing in the blood. Inch by inch, ever so slowly, she reached for the blade, all while casting periodical looks at Daehyun.

Just when her fingers touched the cool metal, Daehyun's gaze shifted to her. She froze, her hand still outstretched. He smirked, walking over leisurely, blood still dripping from his fingertips. He watched her, noticing the dagger that she gripped in her palm,  slicing through the skin.. He grinned at the sight of her blood.

He walked closer, his lilting walk like that of a predator. In a way, he looked like Death. Panic seized Mieun, and she lost all rationality. Now, she was just an animal trapped in a corner. She leveled the dagger at him. "Don't come any closer," she whispered, wheezing, still raw. "I'm warning you. Don't you dare take one step closer."

He chuckled, taking slow steps closer and closer to her, his eyes trained on her face rather than the blade. "What are you going to do to stop me? You don't even have the guts to scratch me with that dagger. What use would a dagger be in your hands?" He laughed, "Are you kidding? Stop playing."

He stood in front of her now. She watched him with terrified eyes, and she couldn't stop the uncontrollable shaking of her hands. It took all of her might to keep the dagger pointed at him in her hands. He watched her with a thoughtful, calculative stare.

The look in his eyes changed. It no longer playful or thoughtful, fun or calculative. His eyes became darker, crazier, more dangerous. The eyes of a beast. A monster. He lunged at her. "Give me that," he growled.

She screamed, and raised the dagger. Red blurred her vision. That was all she could see. All she could remember dimly was stabbing downwards over and over again. She felt warm blood spurting all over her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She cried out, wanting to stop. She couldn't stop. Her hands wouldn't obey her.

And as abruptly it began, it ended. The red disappeared from her vision.

But it didn't disappear in front of her eyes.

There was blood everywhere. She stared at her hands in horror. What had she done? No, no...this wasn't her. She hadn't meant to kill him. She didn't kill him. He wasn't dead. He wasn't. She hadn't done anything. She didn't kill him.

She wasn't the monster.

She didn't kill him.

She was innocent.

She didn't kill him.

He wasn't dead.

No, she refused to believe it.

But she couldn't deny that, right in front of her eyes, Daehyun, the man who was the devil incarnate, lay on the grass, blood pooling around his lifeless body.

She looked at the cold, stiff, pale body of Daehyun in front of her and slowly raised her head to look at Daehyun laughing maniacally in front of her.

She looked down at her hands again, still stained with blood.

Oh.

Oh.

What had she done?

-kitty.