NOW: KIM JONGIN

“I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to see you again.” Naeun said with venom encompassing every syllables.

Her eyes lost the twinkle that I fell asleep to for countless nights. In fact, she has a significantly growing eyebags that shun the light in her face. Her lips are busted in the middle with a few noticeable cracks. Is she drinking enough?

“You should drink more.” I spoke. I squeeze the phone handle as I lean closer to the plastic glass that separated us.

There is something in Naeun that shifted back. Her fingers knead on the handle as she shifts her position. Her eyes bore into mine – deep as the sky, lonely as a moon. “Don’t pretend like you care for me.”

I could see her eyes dampening. Her façade is breaking little by little. This is the most emotion I could get her to show after a few visits. Since that day, Naeun has reportedly given no single answer and/or expression for whoever that is visiting her. I have weekly report of her behavioral pattern in the Seoul Dongbu Detention Center from sources inside the Korean National Police Agency. And for the past few weeks, she hasn’t been yelling and begging to every police officer that she encountered – confessing that she was not guilty.

For the past nine days, she has been quiet in her cell. I thought this would be the perfect occasion to pay her a visit. But I didn’t realize how bad it would be for my heart to see her like this. Her cheekbones are poking through her skin. Her hair is pruner – I know because I’ve brushed her hair for every night as I watch her fall asleep in my arms. They do not look the same as before. And I hate myself for it.

To destroy her like that.

Perhaps she is impatient in waiting for my answer that she creates another statement that I cannot answer: “Was it all real?”

“No.” I loathe how natural it sounds in my tongue.

Naeun stays quiet for a while. Something shifts in her eyes. Like a wild fire, I am slammed by the full hatred in her eyes. Then, she strikes the phone handle against the separator that it creates two loud bangs. One against the separator, and one against the table after it bounces off from the separator. As if it wasn’t enough, she slams her right fist against the separator – too hard for her weight that I heard a crack from her bones.

I feel my heart shrink.

The polices are straining her from striking the separator again. She is screaming so loudly, “I HATE YOU, KIM JONGIN. YOU WILL NEVER FIND PEACE SO LONG AS I LIVE. I WILL BURN YOUR KIN TO THE GROUND.”

It takes three policemen to pull her away from the room with force. As the door closes, I am met with an empty room and a glass crack that stood right in between my eyes. I look behind to a policeman that is ready to me out. “I heard her bone cracks from the punch. Please see to it and ensure that she has the proper medical attention.”

Until I could see the police nod, I left my heart in the room.