Chapter 7

grief and anger

Nobody taught me how to grieve properly. People die all the time around me. They get shot, or they go missing and never return, others get injured and succumb to their wounds. No-one dies of old age. Remembering the people who leave isn’t really grieving, that’s something else entirely.

Grief feels so much like pain, like hurt, like anger, I can barely tell the difference between them. My brother’s been gone for three years, one would have thought that’d be enough time to get over it, that the pain I’d carried for so long would’ve disappeared. I guess I’m wrong. It’s still there, leeching off me.

My Mom’s dug up a patch in front of our house. She picked a couple of flowers while I was working in the mines. Not particularly pretty flowers, most of them are either too short or bent at the middle, some have been trampled, and their colour has faded. My Mom says a couple of words, I’m not really paying attention.

It’ll rain soon. I can tell by the sky, the clouds are slowly drifting towards us. 

My Mom places the flower into the patch she dug up, then covers them with dirt and gives the soil a firm pat.

I leave to go inside, thinking my Mom will follow me.

She remains outside, the small spoon in her hand as she tries to dig up another patch. 

I bite my lip, clench my jaw, and carefully reach for her hand, stopping her.

«No, Mom. We only need one,» I tell her softly, «just one.»

She looks up at me and says nothing. Her eyes narrow, as if telling me to let go, so I release her, but she does not stop looking at me that way: her gaze is relentless, pushing through the barrier of my skin and making me face the truth.

I take a deep breath. I understand her hope, damn it, of course I do. She’s not the only one who has lost someone. I’ve lost my brother, I’ve come to accept it and I’m still trying to understand the feelings swirling inside me. I need more time with my Dad, I need to be sure he’s gone before I truly, finally, let him go.

«Alright, Mom.» I huff. «Alright. I’m going inside.» I tell her, closing the door behind me.

It rains ten minutes later. My Mom’s still outside trying to dig up the soil. It’s too cold, and the mud makes it messy. She comes inside, drenched by the rain, the cuffs of her shirt soiled, her face grey and hollow. She drops the spoon and sinks to the ground.

«Dahyun.» She whispers. «Dahyun. My medicine, please.» She asks and rubs her face with her hands.

I nod, silently making my way to the cabinet over the sink. I pull out a small jar of pills, counting them in my palm. She won’t make it through winter, and with my Dad gone, we’ll barely have enough money for food.

Upon returning to the living room, I find my Mom slumped on the floor, her eyes closed and her hand wrapped tightly around the spoon. I fill a cup with water from the bucket and place it on the ground along with a small dish with two pills on it.

Chaeyoung enters the mines before me. I can see her in the line in front of me. The helmet she’s wearing is mine, well, it used to be my brother’s, but that doesn’t matter anymore.

I try to move past the others, trying my best to reach Chaeyoung before she enters the mine, but suddenly she’s gone. I’m pulled back into the line by the other miners. They shush me, scold me, telling me how I’ve got to play along, how I’ve got to follow the Guild’s order.

I’m tired of this fixed game where everything seems to be rigged against me. One step forwards, then two steps back. There’s no progress. I am divided; there are things I want, but they cannot exist together. How can I want peace in a world filled with violence, how do I go about it? How can I ask my friends to stay when they all decide to leave? How can I pass through this life knowing that I am doomed to die?

Chaeyoung finds me in the mines at the strangest of times, the most inconvenient of times. She finds me while I’m distracted, when there is no moment for us to exchange words, only these glances that neither of us can understand. It’s as if we’ve become each other’s ghosts, haunting each other, waiting to see which one will give in to this nightmare first.

I turn to her when the patrol officer isn’t looking. I reach over the slab of stone that divides us, not completely, but enough to make it uncomfortable. I grab her arm, holding on tightly. I pull her close to me, until I can lean over the stone and whisper in her ear:

«What’re you doing?» I ask her.

Chaeyoung looks at me as if I am a stranger. She furrows her brow, bites her lip. «What does it matter to you?» She says bitterly.

«We’re friends.» I say with the utmost urgency, trying to get her to remember, we grew up together —Chaeyoung, Tzuyu and I. «Or have you forgotten?»

«Never. How could you accuse me of such a thing?» Chaeyoung says quietly. She lifts her gaze and looks around. «Don’t you understand? I never wanted any of this.»

«Neither did I!» I hiss. «Neither did any of us!»

«Then why are you holding onto me so tightly, Dahyun?» Chaeyoung huffs. «Are you afraid to let go?»

I pull her in closer. «Is this your doing? All of this? Does this play into Jihyo’s great plan of saving us all?»

«Jihyo says hope is useless without action. I only want to do what’s right.»

I release Chaeyoung slowly, one by one my fingers unfurl from her jacket. I take a step back, watching her closely. It is then that I realise that my words fall upon deaf ears. Chaeyoung won’t change her mind, because she can’t. She’s just like me: Too afraid. There’s no reversing what’s already been done. I now realise that Jihyo’s plan for freeing us all didn’t start with the recruitment of Chaeyoung and the failed recruitment of myself.

It existed long before I found the tickets, before my brother got himself into the Resistance Party’s mess, before Chaeyoung, Tzuyu and I entered the mines. Possibly before Jihyo herself even joined the Resistance Party and became its leader, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth.

«False God’s exist, Chae. Don’t get carried away by the words of a saviour.» I warn her.

I leave, knowing what I must do, knowing what Chaeyoung has to do now. Both our lives are at risk, at the mercy of the Guild, what is the point of arguing anymore? Chaeyoung can keep the helmet and the tickets. All of them. I don’t care anymore.

«Would you forgive me if I asked you to?» Chaeyoung whispers after me.

I look over my shoulder, noticing that she’s reaching for me, and in her hands are the two tickets that had been stuffed inside my brother’s helmet.

«There is always a place in my heart for forgiveness, Chae.» I tell her, and push her hand back, a gesture of goodwill; she may keep the tickets.

I understand.

«It will take time.» I admit. «This’ll all be over one day. And there won’t be anything between us.»

«I’ll see you on the other side.» Chaeyoung whispers and nods.

We go our separate ways. I know Chaeyoung will do what’s right. Jihyo did well by placing her trust in Chaeyoung; she will do her bidding like a dog, I am sure of it. And though I am divided, in both mind and heart, I am determined to not let myself suffer more because of it. I trust Chaeyoung. I have to. And she trusts me to make the right decisions. That is the bond we still have, the bond that the Guild will never take from us.

Now, I realise, after making amends with Chaeyoung, I must do my best to find Tuzyu.

It’s raining by the time I leave the mines. I make my way towards the outpost that splits the Miners Community with the Washers. Nayeon always seems to be working, she’s here every time I pass through.

She jots my name int