" You are Moon Hyuna. You are twenty-eight years old. You- "

 {  ONESHOT  }

There was a pause before there was a slight breeze in her hair. 

She was aching. 

You are Moon Hyuna. You are twenty-eight years old. You have a puppy. You are in love. You- 

She was not aching. 

Her fingers found themselves curled around something, a string, or was it a rope? 

I am Moon Hyuna. I am twenty-eight years old. I- 

She heard a ring in her ears. A sound that struck her nerves and surrounded her like a persistent midnight clocktower. As if to remind her of something. As if the clock had just struck and she needed to hurry home. It was laughter. 

Hyuna opened her eyes with a gasp; the thin, crisp air broke through her opened mouth and into her lungs, where it nestled and brought her back to awareness. What appeared before her caught her off guard, she would have had the wind knocked out of her if the grip she had on the ropes weren't so tight. Her knuckles were turning white and she could feel the rope burns inside her palms, but she held fast. 

She took in another shaking breath of the autumn air and her reality became more clear. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so clear. Her eyes traveled from her dry knuckles to the rope she was gripping. She looked down at herself. She was wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt. Her hair was tousled over her head and came flowing past her shoulders. She was only wearing one sneaker. The cold air tickled the bottom of her bare right foot, and only then did she notice how high in the air she was. She was sitting on a swing. The seat was of a smooth piece of wood that was knotted at either side with a thick rope. Hyuna's eyes traveled from the rope in her hands to find where she was hanging from. Her head tilted backwards as she looked up at the sky. A few scattered clouds were among the blue heaven, but she could find no beginning or end to the rope she was swinging from. The sun was high in the sky, causing a warm glow to envelope her body in midair. She must have been hundreds of feet in the air. She was on a swing that extended from the clouds. 

Below her were rooftops and skylines, the very tips of the tallest trees, and she could even make out the bobbing heads of people walking the streets. She was over her home city, Seoul. Where she was born and raised. Her home, where she grew too quickly and enjoyed losing herself at busy coffee shops or hidden alleyway food stalls. She skimmed over her memories and it felt like a chore. Where had she been taught to do this? 

"Repeat after me. I am Moon Hyuna. I am twenty-eight years old. I live in Seoul. I've lived here my whole life." 

"I am... Moon Hyuna. I am... twenty-eight..." 

It was here beneath her feet that she discovered Doctor Jung's office. He was a therapist. Her therapist. But why did she need therapy? She was a nurse at the largest hospital in the city. She was an author, a journalist. She lived at a cozy condo with her loving boyfriend and puppy. There was no reason for her to forget herself or have trouble even remembering her name. 

"It was because of me." she heard a voice say, almost as if the sound was whispered inside her brain. "You hated me, Hyuna." And then the laughter again. The bell sounding, ear shrieking laughter. 

Hyuna clung to the rope and jerked her head towards the sound on her right. A chill ran down her spine as she comes face to face with a girl. The girl was an exact replica of Hyuna, but her missing shoe was on the girl's left foot. "Who are you!?" Hyuna hissed and swallowed hard, fear rising in her chest. 

"You don't remember me?" the girl chimed, clearly amused. "After all this time we spent together? Let me remind you." 

It was as if Hyuna was looking into a mirror, a second swing, strung from the clouds beside her. The girl in the swing seemed so familiar, but each time they caught each other's stare, the feeling of dispaire and dispise rose to . She had the same soft features, two earrings pierced on her left ear, and dark flowing hair that fitted around her glowing face. But her lips. Her lips were tainted brightly black. And Hyuna did recognize the differences in the girl. Her hair was not gracefully lain on her shoulders, but messy and molded to one side. The dark circles under the girl's eyes created a hollow effect on her high cheekbones and gave a sharper look to her smooth jawline. Her t-shirt was dyed with an abundance of colors, ranging from makeup powders to blood stains. 

Blood stains. 

Slowly the memories of the abuse creeped back to her. Her breathing became heavier and heavier. Her eyes were clouded with a vision. A memory. 

A young girl was standing before a kitchen sink. She was drying the glass dishes with a small towel. The collar of her shirt hung low enough for Hyuna to see blue markings around the young girl's neck and shoulders. Hyuna winced. She could hear people talking behind her. The talking became louder and turned into bickering. Screams and shouts rang around the young girl and she stared at Hyuna with startled eyes. She stared right through Hyuna with those ghostly eyes as the dish she was holding slipped from her hands and crashed onto the floor with a splintering thump. For a moment the shouting ceased, and Hyuna was now the young girl. A whimpering apology escaped the young Hyuna's lips just as a fist lands itself against her jaw. 

She couldn't see anything after that. She went black. 

"You went black. But I didn't. I was always the stronger one." And Hyuna was back on the swing, her eyes glared at the mirrored her. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" she shouted, more out of frustration than question. 

The girl shrugged, "Why are you acting like you don't know?" With the flick of her wrist, a newspaper appeared between her fingers. 

"No." The word slipped from Hyuna's lips without