Chapter 1 - My Answer

I pondered about the world. I questioned my weaknesses. So I tried. I tried my hardest to cope with it, but I couldn't. Those feelings trapped inside of me were dreadful. I just had to do it. End it all now before it could eat me up inside. So I walked towards the bridge. Put my hands on the railing. And without further thought or regret I let go. Until something happened. A force so strong pushed me back that I fell off my feet on the pavement.

"What are you planning to do?"

A young man that looked to be around age 19 held me back. All I could do was stare with fear. Not realizing my actions, I myself was also shocked. The only words that could come out of my mouth were:

"Why did you stop me?" I asked wondering in a low tone. "Why?" My voice rose a bit.

He sighed and looked at the endless sea surrounding the bridge, with a stare so violent that made me wonder, "Who are you to push me back?"

I started becoming desperate.

"Why?" I yelled uncontrollably.

I pushed him with all my strength in confused anger but he gripped my two hands firmly before I could do further harm.

"I was also here a few years ago," He began,  "I thought of making the same mistake. But then I stopped myself because I knew that someday, even if it's 20 years from now, something good will happen. You have to believe that." He said while looking firmly into my eyes and gripping his hands tightly around my wrists.

He had dark brown eyes, soft skin, and a light scratch on his right cheek. He had a thin but soft upper lip. And a gaze so strong that caught you off guard. His name was Jeon Jungkook.

As he loosened his grip on me there was a long pause as we gazed into each other's eyes. I could see the pain in his eyes, but there was also a hint of internal trust and hope.

Ah. So you're that kind of guy. The guy who would fall in love with any girl who shows even the slightest form of affection. I hated that type. They trusted and dedicated their entire lives to their significant other, before they would stupidly fall into a pool of their own despair.

He slowly let go of my arms completely and turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry..." he finally said shyly. "It's your choice if you want to end it..." his voice trailed off.

He turned around and walked away, his head lowered and his eyes remained on the ground.

There was something about him I couldn't understand. He looked tough on the outside, but I could tell he tried hard to hide his sensitive side. He felt pity for me. He worried because he said he's been there before. Yet why would you take that step if you don't know me? Why did you hold my arms so firmly, to the point where I held my breath in fear? And why did you shyly turn away from me as if nothing happened? These were things I still wondered even up to this day.

I was deep in college applications, endless essays, statistical presentations. Did I really want to spend my life studying to end up achieving nothing at all, or did I just want to quit and live on my own, sleeping until the day's end without having to tire myself out?

I sighed and then took a deep breath as I finished the last few words of my essay.

"Stress, stress, stress." I whispered to myself.

Then, I heard a door loudly opening and a crowd of chatters-it sounded like two women and a man. It was 3 AM. My father was late again as he was everyday. Sometimes he did not even bother to come back for a whole week. He was highly addicted to drugs. And to "soothe it all out" (as he said) he also drank heavily. My father would come home with tired eyes and bright, red, blushing skin. Most of the time, he would bring other women who were usually half his age, and who were payed to sleep with different men each day.

He was well aware that these women had no real interest in him, but he still took part in this sinful act.

We had a decent house at some point before my mother's death. She died of a tragic car accident and severely injured two teenagers drunkenly driving a car. After the incident, we became poor without much economic support. We were in deeply indebted with the family of the so called "victims." Because one of the teenage drunkards needed surgery for brain damage, they asked us to pay all their medical fees as well as extra money for crashing their most valued possession- their Lamborghini.

After my mother's death my dad began to change. Every night he would come home smelling more and more of liquor. He came into my room a few times, nearly destroying the door, and then lecturing me for being a failure and "an embarassment that should've never been born."

"Why didn't your mom die along with you so I wouldn't have to deal with this crap?"

His words left a mark on me that left me hard as stone.

I told him, "It's your fault for falling in love."

At hearing this he yelled and started to knock everything off my table; the lamp, the ceramic flower pot that had been a gift from my mother, the glass ornament. Everything broke apart at that very moment. Even though the shattered glass stood at my feet and slightly brushed against my skin, I stood there with a blank expression, looking at the mess below me.
 

My mother had given me her savings for my college tuition right before she died. Eventually, my father found out and he was devastated that I wasted it at a time of bankruptcy. He no longer valued me as his daughter anymore and threatened to disown me. I wouldn't have kept the money considering I had no future ahead of me, but I trusted my mother.

"No matter what, use this money to create a better future for yourself. I know you can make it."

But when she left me, I no longer knew who to trust. My heart ached as I slowly fell into a dark, endless tunnel that just grew deeper each day. That's when I started questioning everything. I was confused about the life I lived and asked myself, If my life was all just endless suffering, then why even bother living?

But there was a reason why I was allowed to live more than I wanted-I would soon find my answer...

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