Henrietta and Ricardo are being very loud today.

In all honesty, I can’t believe that I have to babysit you, Henrietta. What you did was beyond uncalled for

Don’t snap at me Ricardo, I was simply trying to help Kyungsoo

Very loud.

That’s a good one, “help Kyungsoo”, he would have been able to talk to the young lad if you had kept your mouth shut

He doesn’t need to be talking to him, Ricardo, that boy is nothing but trouble

Regardless of your feelings towards the lad, the fact remains that Kyungsoo has affections for him. We can’t just waltz in and take over Kyungsoo whenever we feel it necessary. You even scared our poor boy.

To which I’ve apologized countless times!

To be fair, this was all Henrietta’s fault. Last night, after my feeble attempt at overdosing on Clozapine, it didn’t work, my will was obviously too small, Ricardo took this time to step in and correct the situation. Henrietta and Ricardo had never really gotten along, however, last night, and even this morning, they had been doing nothing but arguing, thus keeping me up to listen to it. Not that I was going to sleep anyway, but still.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve apologized, the damage has been done

Ricardo always had my best intentions at heart, regardless of his feelings or otherwise, and his coming to my defense was nice, but now, inside the library with only thirty minutes until classes started, I was in serious need of some sleep. Pulling my manual of the human anatomy closer to my face, I figured it would shut the light out even for a few more minutes.

“Found you,” a voice stated.

My heart almost literally jumped out of my body.

I lifted the manual, which was crushing my face, off of me to find Kim Jongin, his expression reeked with neutrality. I stared at him; he was calm and completely oblivious to the nervous glances Mrs. Choi was directing our way. I didn’t blame her; Jongin in the library was a rare sight in and of itself, so standing over me, talking with such a blank and composed expression, was probably causing her a great amount of stress.

I tried to deter his expression by staring at him, widening my eyes as far as they would go. It almost worked too; I could see his resolve faltering under the crushing weight of my gaze.  However, amidst our staring contest, he gathered his strength.

“Let’s go,” he said, walking away from me.

“Huh?” I asked. He walked towards me again, his poker face crumbling out of irritation. Reaching for my arm, he hoisted me out of my book-fort, and we harried towards the door.

“God, Kyungsoo, you can be such an sometimes,” he cursed under his breath. I looked around confusedly, finding the worried eyes of Mrs. Choi. I threw her a questioning glance, and she just mirrored me. We reached the door when Jongin turned around, looking pointedly at the innocent librarian.

“We were never here, got that?” she shook her head in understanding, shock and fear on her face as we left the school campus, me being dragged by Jongin the whole way, a terrified and confused victim of unfortunate circumstances.

You are such a drama-queen Kyungsoo

Shut up Henrietta.

Being manhandled by Jongin wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined, however, between what happened yesterday and my night of utter insomnia, it’s safe to say I was a bit hard to deal with. Jongin seemed no more on hinge than I was; his normal slightly-revealing outfit was nowhere to be seen today. He dawned a tan jacket and denim jeans, hair tussled, and a sad and tired look was etched into his face. He was beautiful, but something was off. I tried to figure it out, but my mind didn’t seem to function as well as it should.

We got to the subway station, about three blocks from our school, and grabbed an apparently random train. I wanted to protest; if he was going to kill me, he should do it with dignity and tell me where we are going. My personal taste suggested he take me to a nice valley, full of daisies and ferns. Nice tall grasses and a view that captivated. That would be lovely. But no, as we headed towards the industrial part of town, I realized Jongin has no sense of beauty or sympathy for the souls he plans on taking.

He was quiet, a worried look in his eyes. The subway was fairly vacant; it was passed the time of rush hour. The silence was deafening as we rode, sitting next to each other. His hand was still placed firmly on my forearm, his grip tightening ever so slightly with each stop. I stared at him abashedly, wishing he’d speak, even if no louder than a whisper. He twitched nervously under my gaze, even his grip faltering, but not once said anything.

The automatic voice gripped the silence and shook it violently. I almost jumped out of my seat as it read the next destination. Jongin almost smiled, I couldn’t see for he had turned his head. I looked towards him, and was shocked when he suddenly stood up. Grabbing me with the same force as before, he dragged me out of the subway, an old lady looking at us curiously the whole time.

“Way to cause a scene Kyungsoo,” he said quietly.

“I frankly haven’t the foggiest as to what you mean, Jongin. You’re the one being strangely cryptic while you drag me around South Korea. Why don’t you tell me where we are going?” I asked irritably. Our hushed tones and close proximity was suspicious enough. But, for some reason, it looked like Jongin was worried.

“Oh, so you don’t speak fluent English? The accent was quite lovely by the way, but it was obvious you need to cut down on the cigars. Wouldn’t want you dying at twenty because you like to impersonate coal trains,” his words drowned in sarcasm.

“First, you never answered my question, and-”

“It’s a secret,” he stated. We were finally out of the subway station. I looked around, seeing nothing but trees and quaint little houses. It was almost like farmland. I would have enjoyed the nice panoramic view had my irritation not been scratching away at my sub-cranium like a cat wanting to be let in the house.

“I don’t appreciate the interruption. I was going to apologize, too,” I turned to Jongin, the light slightly burning my eyes. His face was turned towards the road, squinting from the sunlight; it looked like he was waiting for something.

“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, there is somewhere I want to go. Follow me,” he strode off the sidewalk onto a path. It looked dark and incredibly unsafe. Henrietta and Ricardo cautioned me with hushed whispers. I didn’t want to go. I looked around worried, afraid of being left alone, maybe if i-

“You coming? It’s either come with me, or find your own way back,” he shouted, not even looking behind him. It’s as if he was listening to my inner turmoil

I quickly took off from the sidewalk, trying to catch up with him.

Walking down the dirt path off the side of the road wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would’ve been. We walked in silence, my feet yearning to match Jongin’s stride as we made our way down. Even Henrietta seemed to be in a good mood, quietly humming my lullaby along the brown trail.

“In the story we can swing on a moon,” I ended up singing quietly. I looked up, startled by my own sudden outburst, to find Jongin staring at me with wide eyes.

“Kyungsoo, can you sing?” he asked, his curiosity apparently piqued.

“Only a little. Before I was diagnosed I was in private singing lessons. My parents thought it would be a reputation booster if their friends knew I could sing,” I replied.

“What are your parents like?” he asked, a smile hinting his face. He looked more comfortable than before, maybe because we were alone so he could commit homicide peacefully.

“Why? Do you normally ask about the personal lives of your victims? I don’t think that’s very prudent, it may give you unwanted emotional attachment to your victim, thus making it harder for you to be precise about your murder, making it easier for the police to know who did it,” I rambled, Jongin’s eyes getting progressively wider and wider with every word that comes out of my mouth.

“I thought only my eyes could get that big,” I mused to myself.

“Wait Kyungsoo. Please don’t tell me, you think I brought you out here to murder you,” he almost pleaded, and then sighed when he realized I was not joking, “I swear; what goes on it that brain of yours?”

“Schizophrenia. And Henrietta and Ricardo,” I stated.

Jongin was at a complete loss for words. We walked in silence until he asked a very soft question.

“Can you sing again?” he asked.

“Sure, why not,” I said. The rest of the walk was filled with my voice, singing Henrietta’s lullaby. Even Henrietta decided to accompany me.

The walk was long, and slightly exhausting, however, being by Jongin was good enough for me. We walked in sync, me singing softly and Jongin smiling, looking at the view. It was beautiful; light brown wheat fields were scattered on both sides of the trail, beautiful little cottages peppered the lands, we even saw a few goats. We were no longer in Panam. I found this place more appealing than the suburban highlands.

I was so lost in my singing that I didn’t realize Jongin had stopped.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snapped, mostly because I had run into him.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say. I didn’t realize he would have gotten so angry. He relaxed, obviously apologetic for lashing out, and turned to face me.

“It’s fine. Anyway, we’re here,” he chirped, holding his arms out to reveal the glory behind him. He beamed, as if his most treasured object was behind him.

It was a broken down, beaten up, condemned cabin.

For the first time since I had met Kim Jongin, I had felt as though I had gotten something right.

“I knew it,” I said, half stunned.

“What?” he asked, eyes still gleaming with pride and happiness.

“You are going to kill me.”

After several minutes of declining and persuasion, Kim Jongin managed to convince me that I was not going to be mutilated and left in this God-forsaken, condemned, piece of crap.

“How many times do we have to go through this?” Jongin asked as he pulled me towards the cabin, “I am not going to X-out, annihilate, asphyxiate, assassinate, crucify, dispatch, do away with, do in, drown, dump, electrocute, eradicate, erase, execute, exterminate, extirpate, finish, garrote, get, guillotine, hang, hit, immolate, liquidate, lynch, massacre, murder, neutralize, obliterate, off, poison, polish off, put away, put to death, rub out, sacrifice, slaughter, slay, smother, snuff, or wipe you out. Do you hear what I’m saying, Do Kyungsoo?”

“You have an amazing memory if you were able to remember all that,” I say, completely off subject. That almost set Jongin off. He kicked in what was left of the old rotten door and flung me inside.

“Look. The only reason I brought you here is so we could talk, without, you know, being distracted,” he disclosed, sitting down on a wooden chair that seemed very new, thus out of place. He saw my look of curiosity.

“I come here often. This is what I guess you could call my secret fort, much like your cupboard. Of course, I don’t stalk other people’s secret dance time,” he murmured quietly the last sentence, although I heard him clearly.

“I’m sorry about that. I’m also sorry about the incident, I didn’t mean for-”I started.

“Why did you talk to me like that? I know I hurt you, but you have to cut me some slack-” he interrupted me again, but this time, I blew a fuse.

“What do you mean ‘cut me some slack’?! I cut you some slack for three years, Jongin! Or did you forget about that? Did you forget that every day I was at that God-forsaken hell hole I was being tormented?! By your wishes? Maybe if you weren’t such a stuck up, self-centered, insolent, little prick, you would’ve pulled your head out of your and looked at what you were doing to me!” I screamed like I had never before. All of the anger that seemed to disappear with my sanity came back like a tidal wave. And it had nowhere to go but to Jongin, who was now standing up, whilst I trash his secret hideout in a pathetic and wild fit of anger and happiness, head hanging low, shoulders shaking. Henrietta and Ricardo both come back, trying to calm me down, but I couldn’t stop.

Schizophrenia patients are known for self-harm as opposed to harming others. Normally, this occurs when we have a panic attack, or our minds are slowly degenerating.

In my case, the fact that my mind is slowly degenerating with my anger is causing a panic attack.

Jongin sees this.

“Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo, are you okay?! Kyungsoo!” he rushes towards me as I lay in the fetal position, shaking heavily. He holds me until I calm down, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Kyungsoo. I’m sorry for all of this. I wish I could take it back,” he whispers as he cradles me, locking onto my arms that re shaking violently. We stay like this for a while, he whispers in my ear, and I try to calm down. Slowly the shaking subsides, and I return to my former self. I look up, wiping my tears away, to see him. His solemn figure is slumped down, head in his hands.

My wish to comfort him again comes back. His shoulders slowly start shaking, and I know he’s crying. I don’t know what to do. I reach out, in an attempt to grasp him, to embrace him like he did me, but he shrugs me off harshly. He whips around, a violent anger in his eyes as he bores holes into my head. I flinch back, ignorant to the reason for the sudden change in attitude.

In silence we sit, Jongin crying quietly by himself while I’m left next him, staring at my hands and feeling completely lost. I have no idea what I had done to him.

“I’m sorry Jongin. I’m sorry I had a panic attack. I didn’t mean to,” I apologize. It’s the only thing I could think to do. I wanted to apologize for my existence. To get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness, that he would be able to forget me, what happened yesterday, what happened today. I hated seeing him so broken, just because of me. It wasn’t fair to him.

“Kyungsoo, I want to tell you a story,” he spoke so suddenly, I jumped a little.

“Um, okay?”

“Once upon a time,” he started, getting up from his spot on the floor, “a farmer lived in the country side. This farmer had a gift. He was able to grow the most beautiful, most perfect, most obedient briar patch in the world. He took very good care of his briar patch, and it bent to his every will. The gods were pleased with his ability, so they bestowed him a gift. One day, while the farmer was out tending to his briar patch, he noticed something unusual. A pristine white rose. A rose so pure and perfect, had not even the tiniest of flaws, lay the very middle of his briar patch. However, instead of being filled with happiness that the gods had bestowed him such a perfect gift, it led to forbidden memories the farmer wished to forget. He realized that if he picked the rose for himself, the memories would come back, and so would the evil that planted them there. The farmer was at war with himself, but one day, while gazing upon the flower, he noticed the briar patch became stifled, irritated even, at the innocent white rose. The farmer saw this, and for many days and nights, grew a plan of the upmost insanity.”

“The farmer’s delusions were so vast, and his hatred for the forbidden memories so deep, he fashioned a plan to kill the white rose. However, no matter how much the farmer wished to kill the rose, he couldn’t do so. For every time he looked upon its pristine white color, he fell in love with the rose. So he decided to watch the rose strangle in the briar patch, believing that if he wasn’t the one harming it, he would still be able to look at its perfection with clean hands.”

“More and more time had passed before he checked on the rose, but each time he saw, no matter the scars of rotten areas, it would be more beautiful than before,” Jongin faced me, a sad and delicate expression creased his face.

“What should the farmer do, Kyungsoo? Should he face the consequences and the evil of picking the rose for himself, like he was meant to, or should he keep letting the rose die, in the unforgiving sea of the briar patch?” Jongin stared at me. I thought long and hard.

“If the gods bestowed the white rose to the farmer, with the intention of him picking it for himself, than, within that flower, there has to be a way to defeat the memories and the evil within them. Otherwise, the flower wouldn’t be so important to the farmer, even subconsciously. I think the farmer should give the white rose a chance,” I reasoned, looking up at Jongin’s face.

“Well, then. I guess he has to try doesn’t he?” Jongin smirked.

“Yes, he does.”