"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.........." 

Daesung woke up panting. His body covered in sweat. He sat on the edge of his bed and tried to get his breathing steady. His knees felt weak and he was trembling. His heart beating profusely. He could feel sweat running down his cheeks. The sound of tires screeching was ringing in his ear, the crash and the feeling of numbness that he felt after it was all too vivid. The fear he felt when he saw him lying there, unconscious. He shut his eyes tight. It reminded him how his nightmare was a memory and how the memory was a nightmare that had been all too real. Too real that he cannot escape it. He covered his face with his hands and run them roughly through his hair.

It had been 2 weeks since the accident and he is still unable to find himself. The shock that came after it was something he would've welcomed now. He would have liked to feel as numb as he did back then. Because the past week had been excruciating. He was in denial for a day or two. Unwilling himself to believe. The investigation that ensued and the visit to the funeral home brought him back to reality. The questions he was asked over and over again was playing back in his head. The tears the victim's family was shedding at the time was something he cannot forget. Nor the look of hatred he saw in their eyes. He felt like a criminal. He was a criminal. He stared at the hands that was holding the wheel that had caused a death. The death of someone's son, brother, friend.    

"Aaaaaarrrrrrrrhhhhhh!!!!" He groaned his frustration while pulling his hair hard. He cannot forgive himself. 

He had been avoiding everyone since the night of the accident. He will never forget that 31st of May. It would be the worst day of his life. Worse than the time he thought he wouldn't be able to sing again. He wished he died instead then. Wouldn't the victim still be alive if he did? Wouldn't he have saved his family the misery of seeing him suffer? His death would have saved a life. Why did he have to live to kill someone?

He remembered how his brothers offered support, ani, it was more of understanding when they heard and how he had brushed them off, acting as cold as he had never been before:

"Hyung!" Seungri said after he opened his door. Daesung didn't look at him. He couldn't bring himself to. Scared to see the blame in their maknae's eyes.

"Are you alright?" He continued. Seungri's voice broke. He had just hated how Seungri could be a cry baby.

"Talk to me, hyung." He urged, sobbing with concern and panic when he still did not respond. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to see the look of blame in them.

"Let's let him be for now, Seungri-yah." A deep baritone voice said, as soothing as possible. He didn't feel the others coming in. For the first time in years, he did not welcome their company. He felt crowded. He held his face in his hand.

"But hyung...."Seungri protested.

"Come on, Maknae-yah." Jiyong coaxed. 

Young Bae was left behind when Jiyong and Seung Hyun had to guide Seungri out. "It was an accident, Daesung-ah."

He just kept his head down. It was easy for his hyung to say. He wasn't in his shoes right now. The guilt of the thought that somebody had died because of his carelessness was weighing on him so much. When Young Bae left with a sigh upon realizing his need to be alone, Daesung walked to his door and locked it. He leaned on it, still shaking, and let himself slide to the floor.

Sajangnim came and talk to him, too. Or at least he tried. Daesung was not fit to talk to anyone at the time. Sajangnim just sat on the edge of his bed. Daesung whose back was leaning on the wall across him, didn't look at him at all. He was scared to look at his eyes too. They sat there in silence for a while.

"Anyone could have made that mistake too, Daesungie. Even I would have."

It brought him little consolation. He didn't wish it for anyone to go through. It was hell. He thought about his parents. How disappointed they must be of him. How their fans may be hating him now. He deserved it. He thinks he deserve all the hate.

Meeting the family was the mist difficult. He choked his sobs when he paid his respects. As much as he denied it, it was here. This was his reality. A reality he would have to live with for the rest of his life.

Their anger broke him. He couldn't blame them. He was ready for harsh words but he got the worst. The man's mother was just crying while she looked at him. Her eyes showed, anger, sadness. Her stares accusing. Seeing their distraught was worse than any curse they would have thrown his way. All he could do was bow his head, unable to look at her for long. She may have thought how he was alive sitting across her when his son died because of him. He had asked for forgiveness from each one of his family members. He knew it wouldn't be enough. But it was all he could do. If he could bring the man back, he would. 

He deserved to be punished. So he detached himself from everyone. He left the dorm, unable to tolerate how his brothers were acting as if they were walking on eggshells when he's around. Like how it was difficult for them to talk to him normally. The boys seem to have taboo words that they think would upset him. Upsetting him more. He didn't talk to them much. Just answering with yes or a no. He left the dorm as he couldn't bear to make their lives miserable as well.

He was at his parents now. His sister came to see him yesterday. He remembered how she had held him in her arms and cried for him. "Aigoo, this kid." 

His sister knew him well. She didn't offer any words of encouragement that she knew would just make him feel bad. He's had heard them all already. He had appreciated his parents so much. They didn't hover. They just acted as casually as they could. They give him space he needed so much.

Too late to go back to sleep, he changed off his pajamas and put on shorts and a shirt and hoodie over it. It was just 5 in the morning. He tossed the hoodie over his head, making sure the cap covered half his face. He walked out of their house with no destination in mind. He felt like a prisoner in his own home. In his own room and even in his own mind. He had been walking for while, it was more like he was just wandering around his old neighborhood. It was too early that there aren't any people on the streets.

He ended up in front of the church he used to go to mass with his family as a child. It was a long way from home. He had walked too far and didn't even realized it. He looked up the structure in front of him. He smiled bitterly. When was the last time he smiled. More importantly, when was the last time he prayed?

He sat on the bench a across the church. It gave him a good view of the place. The bench was under a peach tree and a lamplight. It was sitting behind a bush of some plant he couldn't identify. It was a little hidden from view from the street because of the other bushes around it.

"Wae?" He asked aloud. Talking to the owner of the holy place. "I have been nothing but a good person all my life. At least I strive to be as good as I could." He thought. "Why did you let this happen to me?"

He was angry with Him. For the first time in his life, he was. His parents had instilled in him how God was good and how He loved him. He had believed it all these years. But now he had wondered whether God had existed. If He did, why did Daesung felt like He had abandoned him? How good must one be? Why did he allow Daesung to be a sinner, a killer?

He was so deep in thought that he barely heard footsteps coming his way. Nor did he bother to see who approached when he felt their presence.

"Anyeong." A female voice said.

He didn't bother to look her way. Not wanting to start a conversation with her or anyone. He acted as if he didn't hear her. He hoped that she would leave if she didn't get any reaction from him. With the hood covering half his face, he doubt if she recognized him. He just continued to look at the church in front of him even when she sat on the far edge of the bench. He could see her legs from his peripheral vision when he looked down.

Looking at the church made him feel squeezzy. He wondered if he would be able to enter one again. He was always one who was proud of his faith although not as devout as His Young Bae hyung, he value his faith as much. He felt detached from Him. He who Daesung had full trust on. If it was a test, it was a cruel one. 

The sun was already up. As it was a Sunday, people would be on their way to go to mass. He didn't want to be there when it happened. He wouldn't be able to understand why people would go there still when life is difficult. He stood up. He felt the girl's eyes on him when he did. He could feel her stares on his back while he was walking away.

The same day the next week, he was back again at the same spot. He still had that nightmare. This time, the dead even talked to him. He asked why he killed him.? He asked how it felt to have killed. Did it bring him satisfaction? Would he like to kill again?

This was the first time that he dreamed of having that conversation. He was shaken by it. He remembered how he had denied the accusations in the questions but the person in his dream just persisted on them like a broken record. He had not been able to sleep since he woke up from that dream. So, here he was again.

He was questioning Him. "If I had to go through this, why did you let me live? Why didn't you just save me from this? Aren't you all knowing? Did you get satisfaction upon seeing me suffer?" He thought to himself. 

"Anyeong." 

The same female voice from last week broke into his thoughts. He didn't appreciate it. Why couldn't she just let him be alone? Why couldn't she just sit somewhere else. He looked around. There was a bench not far from him too. Why there of all places? He was to tell her to move to the next bench when he was surprised to see who it was.

"Kim Yuna-shi." His face not giving away his surprise.

She gave him a bright smile which he was not able to return. "Kang Daesung-shi. Anyeong."

He wanted to retort that he heard her the first time she greeted but stopped himself. He just nodded at her. To comment would have meant to start a conversation and he was in no mood to do so.