Chasing Her

Chapter 9

Dear Jiashuai,

It is currently day thirty-two. It has been approximately four weeks, four days, and five hours since you have gone missing. The adults around me have been apologizing to me repeatedly and mourning in place of me for my supposed ‘loss’. I don’t believe them, though. I know you’re alive—somewhere.

…

A myriad of lights, each with its own distinct color, awakened her from her slumber. When she came to her senses, she found herself drifting in a void, dancing in the air as she floated through billions of memories that took on the form of film from a cassette tape. Each memory lingered for a second or two until they disappeared amongst the array of memoirs that will once again be shoved to the back of her bookshelf, being replaced continuously by new stories. They were warm when they swerved towards her direction, but the moment they passed by, she could not help but shiver. She was completely alone, roaming through the ‘haven’ that her mind had created, but still, she felt as if there was a sharp blade tracing her skin, and the more memories that passed through, the more intense it got. Even then, she did not feel any pain emanating from her back; the only discomfort she felt was from her persistent headache.

Ah Reum closed her eyes hesitantly, fear encompassing her entire being. She had dreams before, and while they were similar in nature, they were dreams nonetheless. She could still focus all of her energy into waking up, and she would be able to do just that. However, now, she was in a rut. Ah Reum kept them closed in hopes that she would awaken in her room. The darkness would welcome her once more, enveloping her in a tight embrace as if letting her go was unacceptable. Any form of light would scald her; they were so sure of it that Ah Reum had started to become convinced by that notion.

‘Anything bright will burn you.’

And thus, she looked away. She locked herself in a labyrinth filled with warped reflections, refusing to even acknowledge the idea that one of those mirrors could lead her out of her mirage. It was like she was back to how she was when she was much younger—distrusting, closed off, and silent. She was still terrified of everything; nothing had changed.

As soon as she had opened her eyes, she felt the intensity of the sun nearly blinding her. The memory was hazy, but she recalled this same exact scenery at one point. There were different buildings that stood in place of the ones that were now there. However, Ah Reum still remembered passing by these stores at one point. Since time passed by her so fast, she had practically forgotten that they were there in the first place.

The old photography studio was still there, with its oversized camera leaning slightly toward the direction of the woods. The color was faded, but she could still recall how vibrant it once was. The owner of the store, Mr. Shin, was taking pictures of anything within his line of sight; he was just that kind of person. He took pleasure in the content faces that the passersby could muster without the knowledge of a camera documenting their joy.

Ah Reum, for one, had minimal interactions with him. In fact, the first and last time she had spoken to him was when she headed to his store and pleaded with him to do a favor for her. That favor, now that she thought about it, was not something her memory could convince to come forward. It was swimming in the deepest depths of her memories; no fishing hook could reel it in from where it was located.

Mr. Shin was now gone, however. That was particularly why his appearance in her subconscious thwarted her. After all, the last time she saw him, he was aghast, and his beady eyes were shut. The vibrancy he once exuded was no longer there. The man that once used to stand outside his atelier and snap a shot of what ‘happiness’ looked like was now gone. It was as if the world was disclaiming that there was no such thing as ‘bliss’.

She felt herself standing straight as if her feet were now planted on the ground. Ah Reum felt uncomfortable that entire time; she couldn’t move her arms nor her legs of her own volition but rather was forced to go with the flow. She rotated along that abyss of memories, not knowing when it would end. She felt like a puppet, going along with the wishes of others. She was a toy for adults to use, made to entertain them with words they, themselves, were putting in , and somehow, along the way, she allowed herself to be seen like that.

Ah Reum hesitantly stomped her foot on the asphalt; the ability to move them out of her own free will finally come to her, and she had never thought anything could be as satisfying as that. She was ready to stretch her aching joints until she perceived a microscopic dot advancing her way.

A small child, about the height of her torso, passed by her in a blink of an eye. She looked like she was heading somewhere, and somehow, where she was going seemed to be recognizable to Ah Reum. It was her hometown after all. From the direction she ran off toward, Ah Reum could comprehend that the girl’s intended location seemed to be the mountains.

The little girl soon vanished from her eyesight, greatly irritating Ah Reum. However, the second she lifted her foot to try and follow the young girl, she found herself bathed in light, now standing alongside a mountain route.

It was a wooded path surrounded by an abundance of sticks and stones; anyone who did not particularly pay attention to those small details would miss it. The trees stood tall, blocking out any form of light that tried to penetrate through its arsenal of branches b with leaves. A few shrubs blocked it from the main path, making it a perfect secret spot. Amongst those sights, she noticed a small tree trunk sitting at the center of it all, a slight opening there that could seemingly fit two. Just ahead of it was a view of the town below them.

The little girl from earlier had appeared shortly, greeting a young boy that her eyes had seemed to miss just then. Ah Reum came closer in hopes of hearing their conversation. It was then that she got a good look at her. She was pale, and her expression lacked emotion. Someone who must have run from their location all the way to the mountain would have looked exhausted, but she looked calm. It was not until her eyes found him that she brightened. It was if Ah Reum was looking at a whole different person. Other than that, there was something else about the girl that bothered her.

When she was two feet away from the two, her head had begun to throb. A painful sensation shot up through her body, and she immediately collapsed to her knees clutching her head. Her sights grew fuzzy, obscure even, and Ah Reum started to be terrified of her subconscious’ intentions for bringing her there.

Before she could process what exactly was happening, she found herself staring directly at the little boy. He looked like he had been kissed by the sun, and his eyes were kind; it was like they were ovals that held every sunset ever possible in them. They were on the smaller side, and their size grew smaller when his lips turned upward, but his smile was the most beautiful one she had ever seen. A small dimple on his cheek had enraptured her, and she blanked out completely. From what she could see, he seemed to be speaking, but she could not hear what he was saying.

He waved a hand in front of her face, and that was when she snapped out of it. The boy smiled at her before turning away to stare at the town before them. She stared at it as well, hoping to see something that drew her attention, something she had missed previously. However, the sights were far too faint for her eyes to make out anything. “How’s your mother?” he asked.

They were close to one another; their shoulders were brushing past one another with even the subtlest movement, but neither seemed to care about the distance between them. Or rather, the lack of it.

Ah Reum wasn’t sure how to respond. As far as she knew, her mother was fine. The woman was practically overworking herself but still had the audacity to plan out family events with Shin Ae, which Ah Reum could never bring herself to fathom. After all, Shin Ae and the Oh’s were not relatives; they were just family friends.

Even then, moved for her, baffling her to a great extent. “She has been acting weird,” the voice, unlike her own, had responded somewhat solemnly. It was higher-pitched and sounded almost uncertain when it spoke. Rather than speaking confidently, her statements ended like questions though they were not. “Oh, and don’t stick too close to me. I probably smell funny.”

She felt her body move away from the boy, much to her mystification and amusement. Ah Reum was not necessarily comfy with the proximity between her and the young boy, so she was glad that she was able to scoot away from him.

Ah Reum heard him sigh, and she felt his warmth on her shoulder once again. “I don’t mind,” she heard him say. His voice was tender, reminding her of the feeling of wind caressing her skin during the scorching summer days, and yet, it was also soothing. She wouldn’t be surprised if he lulled her to sleep; his voice was that calming.

Her head rested on his shoulder, a contented sigh leaving . “I have been trying to tell my mother that I’m worried about her…” she drawled, biting her lip. “She tells me she’s fine and that I should just keep doing what I do best.”

She felt his head move slightly. “And that is?”

“Playing and being happy,” she answered.

He didn’t say anything afterward. The more he kept quiet, the more Ah Reum wished that she could look at them from afar. There was this unusual desire growing inside of her that wished to see the expression on his face. She had briefly seen his smiling face and the tiny dimple that poked out of his cheek, and it bothered her how she was not aware of what to do or say next, or even expect for that matter.

Ah Reum didn’t realize it had started to rain until she felt him move away. The distance between them increased, but he didn’t make any attempt to move further away from her. Neither of them was bothered by the rain; it seemed like they were used to that happening. It was as if they had already sat at that exact location and watched as time passed by them without saying a thing to one another. Ultimately, they just seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

The boy cleared his throat.  “I’m afraid of having to say goodbye to you,” he confessed, his voice shaking.

She felt herself chuckling as if she could not believe her ears. “That will never happen,” she told him. She seemed sure of it too, but Ah Reum was not exactly on the same page as her.

He seemed satisfied by her response, and the silence encompassed them once again. However, this time, it was not an uncomfortable silence.

When she turned to look at him, his figure started to fade away along with the soft smile on his face. In a split second, he had been reduced to nothing but a gust of wind, and she was alone in that tree trunk, hugging her knees as she waited the rain out.

It only took a blink for her to mysteriously teleport to another event.

She now stood in front of a metal gate, the slight rust indicating it had been there for a long time. The leaves on the trees around her were Persian green, a shade she particularly did not like.

Right across from her, there were two boys arguing. Ah Reum could properly make out the argument between the two of them, and by the looks of it, neither of them was ready to settle it. This time, she strangely did not feel her head throbbing as she approached them. The boy from earlier was there, but his face no longer held that peaceful expression that calmed her, and his voice no longer exuded that gentle timbre.

It was not him that caught her attention, though. Rather, it was the boy that blew up at the sight of him. From afar, he seemed like a refined person, someone who would never let his emotions cloud logic. However, that seemed to be what they were arguing about at that moment.

The taller boy had his arms crossed, a look of disapproval etched on his face. “I’m telling you. This is a bad idea.”

He shook his head. “I have to do it,” he insisted, a hand gripping his watch.

Ah Reum noticed that action of his. He seemed to be in a rush but could not help but listen to the advice the other boy was giving him.

“If you’re going to go for it anyway,” he stopped himself shortly; the firm look on the other boy’s face was sidetracking him. “Please be careful.”

There was more to that conversation, but it all sounded like noise in her ears. Ah Reum got the feeling that her memory would bring her somewhere else, and she was waiting for it patiently. After all, the sooner she got through these memories, the sooner she’ll find herself in her bed looking like a mess.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

However, there was nothing new appearing. Ah Reum turned around cautiously to examine her ambiances; she looked for a trigger or any sign of another incident unfolding, yet, there was nothing there. Rather, when she turned around, she realized the slight changes in her surroundings.

The trees were now a mixture of pink and white, petals scattering about as if they were paper boats in the river. Each petal landed on anything and everything in its sig