There are no clocks here, and my phone was taken away from me, so I do not know how much time has passed since I was left alone behind locked doors.

I’m not surprised to find that it feels the same, though. Not comfortable, not uncomfortable, but it’s a feeling that I am used to.

Being left alone.

When did it all start? Was it when I agreed to help him? When we met for the first time in the park?

No, that was when I stopped feeling in place with solitude.

The real beginning to the end of my life was years ago, when I had to see the death of my mother right in front of me with my own eyes. My only mother. My beloved mother.

The person who killed her is not the criminal who was later caught and sentenced to death. It was the other person I thought I was the closest to; the person who has destroyed all hopes of trust between us. My very own father.

If only he weren’t a criminal in the black market. If only he did not mess things up so bad, they came into our house and threatened him, with a knife on my mother’s neck, to pay them what he owed. What he couldn’t pay, since he just didn't have the money.

So, it seemed logical that they took my mother’s life away in return.

Yes, that was when everything started going downhill. Or in more fitting terms, when everything dropped to a flat line, just like how I sometimes wished my heartbeat would appear on a screen.

I was involuntarily dragged into the mess that killed my mother and forced to learn the ways of a life I wished the most to stay away from. After her death, my father ironically seemed to gain energy and determination, which he used to mark his name as one of the most powerful people in the illegal industry. He says it’s so that his loved ones will never be hurt again, but I know it’s not the truth. He could only become this successful because he no longer has any more weaknesses, now that my mother is gone. It also proves the fact that he never cared about me.

Which is fine, because I don't care about him, or anyone else either.

I was thrown to my uncles, all of whom wanted to train me into their puppet so they could use me to overthrow my father and steal his power. But I used possibly the only thing I inherited from him, and my intelligence allowed me to keep everyone at a distance while not being so independent they wanted me dead. It was in this strained environment that I grew up, and became like a fish in water inside the lifestyle that I hate the most.

As I grew older, my father piled more and more responsibilities on me, until at last I became the top person in charge, managing everyone who was originally below him, below me. He could then just sit back and relax, enjoying what power his name gave him, while I had to deal with the stress that he handed over all to me.

But I was always smart, and a few years ago, I finally managed to assign each sector of business to a supervisor whom I trusted, so I could also stay away from it all and let them work things out by themselves. People like Leeteuk, who was once working as a right hand for my father.

All this shifting of responsibilities ultimately resulted in my boredom. I had nothing to do; I didn’t want to get involved in anything; so I just stayed in the apartment that I had lived with my mother for ten years before she— ....so I just stayed there, by myself.

It was ok, really. Apart from the fact that the doctor told me to stop taking sleeping pills so frequently, it was ok. But I couldn’t help it—if I didn’t force my body to sleep that way, my brain would be filled with images from that night, with my mother’s screams and pleas, and sleep would be impossible. Sometimes I found myself walking around mindlessly, filled with memories, and I’d always end up in front of her bedroom door. I thought—no, I knew, that this was how I’d wait for death to take me away from this world I didn’t want to be in.

Then, he appeared.

Showing up at my door in paint-splotched denim, telling me that we’d met a year ago, when I had sat in that chair at the park.

I didn’t remember him, which was not a surprise. After all, the only reason I would be sitting in that park would be because it was a special day. My birthday. Her death day. Every year on the 4^th of April, I would without fail be in that same spot, trying my best to retain what little memory I had when she had taken me there to celebrate.

To be honest, the first reaction I had gotten after he came to me, was fear. I didn’t fear him because he was a ‘criminal’—I would probably be a senior to him if we were being compared in that field—no, I feared that some aspect of my life would change because of him, now that I was so used to living my own, ‘unusual’ way. I couldn’t help but be interested in his story. I couldn’t decline his proposal for me to be a ‘pretend suspect’ for a week. Maybe, deep down, I had always been waiting for something to drag me away from my monotonous life, so I was scared because I didn’t expect it to actually happen.

Lee Donghae is… interesting. His face is like an open book; you can read everything from his eyes, and it just makes you want to keep reading him, from the very first page to the last. Over and over, leaving no corners unexplored. No parts untouched.

I couldn’t let him go through this alone. Just one morning, and I couldn’t stop myself. I called him, but I didn’t do it to check up on how he was doing. Well, it wasn’t to do with how his artwork was coming along, but more about himself. I wondered how he would be coping, what he was doing, and whom he was with. It was obvious from the tone of his voice that there was someone else in the room. Once I knew that, it was even harder to keep myself away.

I had to help him somehow. All those years I had spent trying to dig secrets from other groups and organisations finally proved their use, as it was effortless to pinpoint the weakness of that officer who had the information I wanted. Breaking in was even easier, and by the time my gun was let out into the open, I was reliving that excitement which would shoot to the very tips of my fingers each time I held someone else’s life in my own hands. It’s hard to forget a feeling once it becomes a habit, even if that habit was forced upon you. Being interested in Lee Donghae had turned out to have more benefits than I expected.

Even though I had seen more deaths than I’d have liked in my life already, it chilled me a little to read the specifics of how his brother had died—he fell from the fourth level of an old department building with a knife in his neck, landing in the center of the ground floor face-first. He had to be identified by the family heirloom he always wore.

I could almost describe myself as ecstatic when I read the address of the crime scene. It was an area under Leeteuk’s control. Under my control. Everything was going so smoothly I wanted to skip away from the office. (I didn’t, because it would have slowed me down, and I knew that a moment of carelessness could possibly allow the cunning officer to catch me.)

After finding out from Leeteuk that Donghae had solid evidence on his hands to cause us some trouble, my curiosity grew. What if I let myself get arrested? Would Donghae give up his evidence to rescue me? Or would he simply abandon me? The very thought of the possible outcomes made my anticipation grow. What’s more, it would also give me a reason to see him.

It had been too easy for Leeteuk to replace the video footage of the security cameras around the incident building to ones with me appearing in them. A little more difficult was making the discovery of said videos by the investigating team seem natural, but it had all worked out in the end. I was annoyed that they woke me up so early for the arrest, but it pleased me that they informed Donghae of the news as soon as possible. That was the whole point of this, after all.

Just like I had expected but hoped to be proved wrong, he gave me up instead of his friend. I had half-pretended to be scared, angry, and blame him that this was his fault, but he stuck by his ground and did not change his mind. It made me admire him a little.

Then, I wanted to know what he would do if I took things one step further. He had said that he would try his best to get me out of here before anything bad happened to me. Well, what if I made that process speed up a little?

I will have to thank Leeteuk after I get out of here. He told me that he made sure Donghae knew of my decision to plead guiltyg, and that he worked some strings so my trial would be brought forward, at the top of the list. On the other hand, I expected that he would be able to complete small tasks like this, and anyways, he’s always happy to serve members of the Lee family.

Would Donghae feel worse once he knows that I will plead guilty? Would he think that I did it to help him and Eri?

I wonder if he will come to find me again.

I wonder what he’s doing.

*

After we were given dinner, (as much as I don’t want to call the unidentifiable substance that they gave us ‘food’), the supervisor walked around to give the inmates their individual letters which had been sent from family and friends. I got handed a letter by the supervisor who gave it to me with a knowing wink. I accepted it with an inconspicuous nod.

The small white rectangle was torn open once I was sitting well away from the others. To confirm my guesses, the letter informed me of what I had been waiting for; yet I was disappointed that the visit I had been expecting had not happened.

“To Lee Hyukjae-ssi,

This letter is to advise you of your trial date which has been set for the 2^nd of April. You must be present by 10am, and…”

I folded the letter in half and returned to my room. I needed to prepare myself since I would definitely see Donghae tomorrow at the trial. 

*