She awoke to the afternoon sunlight streaming through the dusty windows. Blinking around, she picked herself up from the floor where she had spent her night and folded up the thin white sheet which she had slept under. Dragging her feet as she walked, still drowsy and head hung, she made her way straight to the kitchen. Not bothering to even wash up, she immediately went to the cupboards and took out a box of plain corn flakes. The sound the flakes made as she poured them into a china bowl rang hollow around the empty house. After the bowl had been filled to the brim, she put the box back to the cupboard and went to find a spoon. The only one she found lay in the sink, ready to be washed. She picked it up and looked at her reflection in the grimy metal. Long, dark-brown, and thick wavy hair framed deep, unfathomable, drooping eyes which had long since lost their life and shine.

Ignoring the sink, she wiped the spoon on a towel hanging by the stove instead, before sitting down to eat her dry corn flakes. After she was done, she left her used bowl and spoon in the sink and made her way to the next room. In here was a single, hard-backed metal chair coupled with a worn desk on which whirred an outdated computer. The thin curtains allowed the room to be flooded in bright, natural sunlight and were ruffling in the gentle breeze which was whispering through the crack in the window.

Sitting down at the desk, she toggled the mouse to wake up the computer. The screen appeared at the page of an email. She gazed at the empty inbox for a while before moving to "compose" a new message.

TO: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Day 313
MESSAGE: Oppa,
I'm still living well. I woke up at the regular time. I had corn flakes for breakfast. Don't worry about the milk. I already told you, I prefer them dry. The weather is really pretty today. It's the same kind of pretty you tell me I look like. Bright, cheerful, carefree. I want to be able to let you feel those things again. I wish you could just hold me and I could stop all your worry and hurt.

Still missing you.

With the deepest love,
Yours truly

She opened a new window and logged in to her online banking account.

PS.—she added to the email—the money is still coming in. Don't worry.

Send.

Having completed that daily task, she left the room and went to get the white sheet in the other room before slowly heading down the stairs. She passed by a wall of photo frames on the landing and gave nothing but a simple glance when one of the frames seemed to shift slightly, as if someone had bumped against it.

Reaching the lower floor, she noticed that it had been a good while since she last took out the trash. Slinging the white sheet over her shoulder so that she had her hands free, she tied up the end of the large white cloth bag which held the trash and proceeded to drag it outside. The yard was just small enough for a tiny patch of unkempt grass. It was enclosed by a stone wall which was overgrown with vines. There, she dumped it into a corner were two other huge bags were already piled. She wiped her hands on the oversized sweater she wore. Next, she took the white sheet from her shoulder and shook it out. As she hung it out over the clothesline wire, she felt a prick at the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her. Turning around, she stared into the empty room behind the grimy windows.

Don't worry, she said silently, turning away. I won't be out here for long. Just doing some housekeeping. I'll be back inside in just a bit.

She straightened out the white sheet, making sure it stretched smoothly over the wire, then made her way back inside.

The afternoon was dwindling away to dusk now. She went to the washroom and washed herself, paying extra care to make sure her hair was smooth and shiny. She next attended to her face, applying layers of skin care cream and foundation, pale, rosy blush, dark eyeliner and eyeshadow, and a touch of vibrant lipstick. She put her oversized gray woolen sweater back on. Taking her black leather pumps to a corner, she sat down on the creaky wooden floor and scrubbed them clean with an old toothbrush. Once done, she put them on and went back upstairs.

Dusk had turned into nighttime now and the house was rampant with cold breezes and dark shadows. She climbed up the rickety stairs, one hand the splintered railing as she walked. On the second floor, she entered again the room which she had awoken up in earlier that day.

In here there was no breeze, no movement. The only source of light came from the moonlight, filtering through the small, high window. She made herself comfortable in a corner of the room and sat there to wait.

It must have been a good few hours because she had nodded off to sleep. The sense of his presence, however, woke her. Opening her eyes to the dim moonlight lighting, she adjusted herself so that she sat straight to greet him.

He sat by the adjacent wall, leaning against it with one leg stretched out and one drawn up, an arm resting on the raised knee. Like her, he was dressed for the occasion with a black, pinstriped suit and vest, embellished with a tie, necklace, and silver pin. He stared straight ahead with deep, unmoving features.

Both of them rested there for a long time, neither moving, neither speaking, and neither looking at one another. She was the first to break the stagnancy, shifting her gaze to fix it onto him. They stayed like that for a while longer, then finally, he spoke.

My heart’s still not working.

She looked at him with sad eyes.

Why can’t I do anything but hold you back?

She lowered her head and blinked to resist the tears welling up. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I am living perfectly fine. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Here, he turned his head to face her. She felt his gaze and looked up to meet his mournful eyes.

I love you.

At this, she blinked again and tears began to drip down her face.

I still look at only you.

She quickly wiped away the tears with her hands and looked away. “I know.”

Stay here, he begged with such plead in his voice that it made her look at him again. I can do better—I’ll give you more.

“You’ve already done well enough,” she said gently. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

Her words did not seem to soothe him, however, and he lowered his head to cover his face with a hand.

I need to live, he said, more to himself than to her. I need to endure it—it’ll stop soon.

Pains panged her chest as she looked at his pitiful state. She picked herself up from her spot and came to sit next to him. Her warm body contacted with his deathly-cold one.

Feeling her next to him, he sat up and drew an arm around her frail shoulders. She shivered slightly as if being covered by an ice-cold blanket, but did not flinch away from him. Instead, she inched closer and let herself sink into his sweet, sorrowful presence.

I’ll hold you like this for a bit more, he said softly. She felt his head turn. I’ll look at you more. . . until my heart stops.

Then he leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead, sending a shock of chills down her body.

I really need you now.

“I love you,” she replied, letting the tears fully bathe her eyes and stream blithely down her cheeks.

You need to be here for it to be paradise, his voice rang in bittersweet melancholy. This is the paradise where I locked you up against your will. A sad paradise where you can’t leave even after you’ve woken up. A paradise where we can be together. . .

“Forever.”

Forever.