[Written in third person and in present tense]

There's something eerily familiar about this girl that causes him to freeze, together with the raw forecast. He shuts his eyes and attempts to oscillate his arms to get rid of the numbness, and after he does, he thinks back, hard. Displays of lost thoughts cloud his encephalon as if it were some sort of library but he doesn't complain. He doesn't care. 

Then, he has it. Her face, data, profile was on a document at the office, labeled under one of the criminal headers. One of the people going for their mugshot had sauntered by and purposely pushed into an older female officer who gave an austere face as the documents she held onto fell almost tragically to the ground. The result had been sheer chaos (both parties had put up a big fight until the main head, Chief Heechul, strolled in and stopped them). He scowls at the recollection.  

"Is something the matter, Sehun?" Hyejin asks him and attempts to speak again when he doesn't reply. However, before she can do so, Sehun tugs onto her wrist and soon they are gone.

Sehun doesn't generally gauge at others based on their history, but this particular female is different. He'll admit that he hasn't seen her entire profile, but from the brief read of it as he lifted it up to return to his senior, Sehun saw what he can label as, disgust.

To think that his beloved sister is friends with her is a nightmare. He's fearful or anxious or perhaps both (god, he really doesn't know), and all the boy desires is for Hyejin to be safe. 

Sehun has been silent, almost mute since the last several days, and Hyejin doesn't understand for the reason. She's attempted to speak to him, god, she's even gone out to beg him to utter a mere word, but he just refuses as if some sort of occupied person (to be frank, he sort of is). It's a bitter sensation to have him silent. It's sort of painful.

She attempts to take a stroll in the park to rid of the growing headache, but then it starts to rain. She attempts to rustle up some sort of nourishment, but then the stove has a flaw. She attempts to ride her bike by the vicinity, but then she remembers Hanna has it (she had asked for it a week before she self-murdered, however, she wasn't aware of the reason). 

Hanna.

That's right—she almost forgot. 

Hyejin laughs lachrymosely. 

Hanna is no longer here.

Later that night, she finds herself in her secluded office, wedge between countless shelves that hold onto threadbare documents and tomes as if a passing lover. The girl seems prostrate, but does nothing to eliminate it—god is benevolent enough to silence the forecast. 

There is a fluorescent folder on the table that radiates a sort of sadness into the room that disappears almost too suddenly when raw-boned fingers grab at it and start to flip through the stained sheets. Her heart clenches upon the familiar letters, dreadful and hurt. 

I want this suicide. I am desperate for it. 

Please don’t be nice; it makes everything harder. 

Therapy is a . I won’t flatter it. 

I was lying. 

Dad. Please. 

I don't even know what life is anymore.

She wondered why I lied. Funny.

This isolation is dangerous. 

Nightmares are becoming frequent. It is hard to sleep. 

I finally understand Peter Hayes—he hated himself. I do too. 

I am about to discover humans at their worst. 

I don’t have friends. 

It would be nice to know you belong somewhere. 

There is no future for me. 

At this hour, my fingers ache, my lips crack, my throat thirst for water. Yet I stay silent. 

God—he was cruel. 

Hyejin feels a sick prod in her ribcage, but she does nothing to stop it. Her form shivers as if glass, and tears come in beats of salt, salt and more salt. 

Before the girl passed out, she had several Paracetamols. Just, several. 

The next day, a parcel arrives at their door. 

Sehun is the one to strip it open.

He is also the person to scream.

written by sleepings   (15.01.2015)

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