[CONTENTID1] a half shard of her soul [/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]

I am jumping skies, crossing borders and bumping to people's bodies with Yeri now.

Whenenever I am with Yeri, it feels even if the end of the world is thrown before my face, it will be fine. 

Even if the world is coming to an end today, it will be okay. I just had the best day of my life and despite how morbid I am sounding right now, death seems like a trivial thing. 

Days with Yeri have always been the best days in my life. Especially, since Dad died.

More importantly, since Dad was murdered and had knifes and blood, so much blood in his shirt and in his tie and in every inch of his body I can only remember Dad's blood in the colour of dark red as if the void has seeped into it. I wonder if people hadn't washed his clothes, would it rot?

What happened to Dad's body? Was his body stitched and fixed and his skin is attached again so it wouldn't be so much of a mess? That will give the assurance someday, I will forget that someone actually killed Dad and is still living in prison and not rotting six feet under this ground. He will be freed one day when his sentence is finished.

"Mom, what are they going to do to Dad's body?"

"Is that..is that Dad?"

Mom was so furious and sad, she ignored me and covered my eyes with her palms, all the way to my ears. Her hands were trembling and it felt like she was protecting me from the rest of the world. She was protecting me from his death.

My mind was so out of my body.

"Do I have to hold on to her or do I have to let her hold on to me?" I kept asking myself, because I felt her morose and pain being transferred inside of me. It hurt ten thousand times more painful. I could feel her sadness inside of me and breathing was so underrated, I felt my throat clogged up with tears.

Life is so unfair. I can't let that go. I will never be able to let that go. Dad must be so upset that I am still having this venomous thought in my head, wishing that friend of my father to die, die and rot there and be killed like how you tore my father's skin with the pocket knife he gave to you because you love blades and my father trusted (Three years and I still want to shatter again. I can't believe my father has became a past tense. He lives in the past, and I won't meet him in the present or future) you enough to give you one on your birthday.

How would I know? Dad got so mad and red-faced when I played with it. I found it on the dining table, the handle made of dark wood and the edge was so sharp it cut some skin out of my thumb. It didn't bleed, I was more formidable than everyone thought I was. I was an adventurer, and I still am. 

"Why do you have a knife, Dad?"

"Do not ever touch that knife, Sooyoung! It's dangerous!" He didn't answer me at first but I stood there, rooted. A little bit shaken and still in wonder. 

He bent down and rubbed my hair, the red rouge is chased out by his smile. "You remember Uncle Kim? It's for him. He likes collecting this."

I frowned that day. The idea of people collecting threatening knifes were so horrible inside of my head. "Why would he need that? It's dangerous, he will hurt people."

"He just do. Sometimes, there are things that can't be explained. And Uncle Kim will never do something like that."

Then can anyone explain why did this best friend of Dad murdered him? Do I have to understand a killer? Why should I understand a killer? It was him who took Dad away from me, it was him who took him from Mom's arms.

It was him who ripped Dad's existence to blood and flesh.

It was him who made our life spinned and paused and spinned even faster after he died. Walking and waking up into another day felt like a dread of pain skulking below my skin. If Yeri wasn't there with me, I wouldn't be this whole, in a better shape with a better view of life.

Life without Dad felt like I was a living human miniature walking on the globe with no rubber shoes. It felt like hopelessly trying to stand up only to know that you would fall. I knew that I was going to fall helplessly, slipping away down the globe but I still tried. I kept failing to be fine. It was too hard. I could hear my heart split apart every time I took a step to any place, days and weeks after that.

Mom busied her days with her works, in paper works and more paper works, burying her face and covering her eyeballs in red after furious attempt in rubbing the pain away. I barely knew who to hold on. Pain was a certified gift that was bestowed and shoved down our throats.

Oh my, I could almost feel my throat bleeding in blue blood for blue is meant for sadness and I guess when you're sad, your blood turns into the colour of blue.

I wonder who comforted Mom. I wasn't there for her, I was too shattered and beaten down to be there for her. Was it Dad's ghost? Did Dad flourish and materialize on her dreams and comforted her? Did Dad say her farewell to her?

If he did, why didn't he come to my dreams also?

My blood must have been so blue back then.

Yeri spun my world back into time again when she'd accompany me to sleep by the phone, asking me to talk about anything and everything.

"Tell me how you are feeling, Sooyoung."

It was the third day after Dad's funeral. 

I sighed, wanting to close up and forgetting that sunlight piercing into my soul. I'm glad I haven't forgotten it now.

"I'm okay, I am fine, Yeri," my voice betrayed me as it shuddered and trembled, the tears were ready to fall off.

"Don't lie to me. You can lie to the whole world, but not to me."

Everything came rushing out like a throng of trojan horses rumbling and hopping over obstacles out of my body, out of my lips, eyes, skin even though what Yeri heard was only my voice and my feelings. 

"It's like-it's like I'm standing in the tip of the highest cliff of this world and I am more afraid of falling back into the ground than to fall to the pit. Because-because there will be a chance of me to be drawn near the cliff again an-a-and it will be an endless cycle-" I sounded so incoherent and her breath hitched. I wouldn't be able to take it if she broke because of me. I didn't want to share this pain, it was meant for me alone to suffer.

After a long pause, her voice emerged from the phone as if she just came out of the ocean. "Go ahead, I'm listening," her voice came out raspy and I held back myself from asking if she was also breaking her heart for me so we could be broken together. I hoped not. I still hope Yeri didn't do that for me.

"I feel like floating right now, but not in a good way. In a way I lose control of my body and floating aimlessly in space with no sense of ti-"

It went on for days, her coming to my home so we could walk together to school because walking and walking calmed my senses down and it made me feel stronger, to be able to stand and not stagger in my steps. 

"Hey, you were silent this whole time."

I was completely so immersed in the past to realize that we have ended up in a completely different place. Yeri must have pulled me all the way here. 

I take in everything that is in front of me. I am currently sitting before Yeri, sipping into some drink I can't identify. She tries out new drinks a lot, and she always find her new favourites every time. The whole restaurant or some place to hang out are painted with a lot of dark colours (of dark blue and or pitch black) and neon light boards are put up on the wall, all around the wall.

"Yeri, are we even in the proper age to be here?"

"Don't worry, it's a normal caffe but it's designed to look like a lounge. I read it first before barging in of course," she beams for her keen sense in looking up things first before coming into it, and Yeri is indeed good at that. 

We are sitting quite far from the center of this stage where a set of drums, guitars, keyboard and a standing mic is staged and prepared for a show. As far as I can see, my eyes can still reach the details of the singers if they are to perform, as my eyes fleet to one person to another passing before the medium-sized podium stage. 

I turn to look at Yeri, hands already rummaging through the things she bought. She can never be patient in unwrapping these things on her home.

It's a bunch of notebooks today, she said the papers are so soft and so well-made and the covers are so intricate and pastel like, it's in her favourite shade. I hope she will be using it for real, the trees are already in dire need to be saved with the exploitation of nature. She will wound up giving some to me usually.

Accepting gifts for so many times has never been my habit. I'm afraid I can never give back the same amount she gave to me, but she always assures me that there are no better person she could give this stuffs. She usually gives me some of the important things that she loves; like her favourite album (Birdy, she falls asleep to her songs), her favourite poetry book, her favourite spot in middle school. It was more like sharing between the two of us, though. 

By the end, I would insist to return those things because those things are a part of her. It belongs to her. I'd insist to the point she has to accept it. 

"Don't open all of them, Yeri. Where's the excitement to open more when you get home?" at this, she stops unwrapping the third notebook and slips it back to the plastic bag. She paid for it. Plastic bags are necessary to be priced over these days so the amount of waste plastic garbage will be descreased.

"Yeah, you're right. Don't you want to order something?"

"Can you do the order for me? I'm not familiar with the drinks here," after briefly looking through the menu, I can't recognize any of these drinks. And the price is, wow, quite expensive. I might have to borrow Yeri's money, but she will probably let it go. 

I would do everything for Yeri, because without her, I would have been a mere broken symphony of a person.

I love her more in ways I would do anything even to carry the ocean to the shore which is impossible but I'd do it. I'd do it for her. I'd bring the ocean to her. I