Seung hyun stood, his head bowed down looking at a speck of red marring the white of the wall. His eyes felt like they were burning from the outside in. There was a numbness spreading from the crown of his head and his chest. He wasn’t quite sure if he had started swaying, or had the room began to move. He doesn’t quite understand everything. Or perhaps he refused to understand. The numbness in his chest begins to part in a wave of intense pain; the liquid burn of tears begins to assault his eyes.

“No.” He whispers to himself. He slams the hind of his palm on his head smearing red on his forehead from his blood-stained hands. His hand was still wrapped loosely on the grip of a gun, his finger still lightly hooked inside the trigger guard. He turns slowly towards her directions, towards an image burned inside his head consuming all thoughts, all sanity inside him. He sees her, lying on the floor, on her side just like how he laid her down a minute ago. Her hair splayed, strands hosting viscous, red blood, a stream of it from a hole hid by her the night of her hair.

He begins to hear his own breath, then the beating of his loud heart. “Sandara.” Her name lingers on his mouth, like the kiss it had remembered three years ago. She is dead. Dead. And as he lingers on her pale, chalked lips, he felt like he died too.

Blood starts to pound in his neck, in his ears, in his temples but through the dull thudding rhythm, he begins to hear the blaring song of sirens as the floor lights up in streams of red and blue. The door collapses with a loud crash and Seung hyun watches two policemen enter the scene, arms extended, each holding a gun pointed towards him, towards his head that seems to want to implode.

He hears them yell, “Freeze.” But his grip on gun got tighter, his finger stiffens on the trigger. He looks back at Sandara. She was still dead.