"Ugh, why does it hurt so much? Ow..." I whimpered softly as I burst the pimples on my forehead.

I clenched my jaws tight as I suffered the unbearable pain. I won't make too much noise, in case I woke my family members up. Really, I don't want to. Especially my mom. She freaks out over these small matters.

The wound on my forehead causes blood to ooze out. I quickly wiped it away with a tissue paper.

"My God... So ugly," I winced and threw the tissue paper into the dustbin.

I stared at the mirror, on my pimples. Swollen, with my fingerprints around it.

". Shouldn't have done that," I sighed and eyed at the wounds I made.

I would not have done that if I knew there would be scars and blood on my forehead.

I care about my looks. I don't think I am prettt. On streets, people look at me. They always look at the big eyes that I own, the facial features. Well, maybe I am the moderate type of looks.

My skin is the only one which failed me. You know, pimples. Stupid pimples. The cause which I can't sleep every night.

"I don't want to have permanent scars, please say I won't," I whispered and prayed silently in my heart.

. Blood coming out again. I cleaned the blood and washed my hands. I looked up into the mirror.

Smile, no troubles.

I chuckled. Well, a little too loudly.

"Unnie, what are you doing in here, laughing at the mirror?"

My younger sister, Minju, asked from outside the washroom. She is 10. And I am 18.

She likes sticking to me. But I feel that there is a generation gap between us, since our age difference is full 8 years.

"You still never tell me why you are smiling at the mirror?" Minju asked.

"Just checking out my teeth," I muttered.

"Your teeth hurts?"

"I can check my teeth out even if it is not hurting," I replied and put my hands on my hips.

"Oh yea..." Minju replied, staring into space.

Heh. Pabo.

"Hey, why are you in my room for?" I questioned Minju while walking out of the washroom.

"Omma tell you to go down now," Minju said happily and skipped down to the living room.

I nodded my head and applied some cream.

Then Minju came up again and eyed me. "What?" I asked her.

"Why do you have so many clothes on your bed?"

"Trying it out," I lied.

"Wae? Date?" Minju wiggled her eyebrows at me.

I didn't reply. I don't have a date. But I have a gathering. Old schoolmates gathering. But I am thinking of whether to go or not to. Anyway, it is the day after tomorrow. So I have two days to think about it.

It will be at this fancy hotel. Not too extravagant. Still manageable. I just trying out my clothes, better to be well prepared.

Because of this gathering, I have been thinking ever since the start of the month.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"The postman!" Minju and I yelled and ran down as fast as we could.

"Kang ____? Please sign to acknowledge your letter," the postman said and handed to me a pen.

I signed it.

Then the postman gave me the letter. And I was stunned.

The letter is creased, like it was being dropped into the water and dried out again. No addresser. Doesn't seem like a letter from the University. Weird.

I suspect...

I looked at my name on the envelope. The handwriting is that familiar, I racked my brain to think of who is it. But I failed.

Somehow, my heartbeat increased. It feels as though this letter is really important.

I ripped open the envelope and took out the paper inside it. I used a little force to remove the paper. Sticking to each other, you know. I opened it carefully, afraid that I would tear it.

The words were so small. I scanned down the paper and saw the person's name who gave this letter to me.

"It's her...?"

My heart sank.