Excerpt

Amongst all the uncertainties suspended before me, the scars on my wrist presented one truth. Lee Hyukjae has kidnapped me for six years, the time during which I was tied to a concrete pillar, fed three times a day, and . Perhaps the part is in question—I started stalking him first, really. I trailed him every minute of my free time and sent him presents and text messages, all sorts of messages from the livid to the kind, because I loved him. He had a boyfriend but that didn’t matter because I loved him enough to overlook it. My love was generous, was all-forgiving, was depthless and possessive and toxic. 

It didn’t start out that way. When we first met I didn’t glance twice at him, half because it was rush hour and I was late to work, half because he really didn’t stand out very much. The only thing that caught my eye was his red hair. Even then it wasn’t anything outrageous. Frankly, I didn’t notice that it was him that day on the bus. I didn’t notice that it was him that time in the plane either, or at the coffee machine, or in the hotel entrance. I really didn’t.

At one point or another I began noticing the familiar blob of red from the corner of my eye. My first thought was that we must have been from the same company, but he was dressed differently than me. Much more differently. And he had a tattoo on his collarbone. I was afraid to approach him because of that tattoo, but I was curious. Why did he keep showing up at the same places as me? What was our connection? Did we have one?

Disclaimer/Notes:

"This story will be told, per usual, with an achronological storyline. If you don't read it thoroughly, you'll be confused. I don't take any responsibility for your confusion." -- predictator/changdictator