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Park Sa Rang's POV: 

  "Are you sure you're going to be okay locking up alone?" Yongguk asks, worry pronounced in his every word.

   We'd finished work late and I'd sent Daehyun-sshi home early again. Yongguk had come back as he always does when his last shift at his last job ends, to help me with the finishing chores around the shop, but he's been here longer than he should; he has to be home in time for dinner at his place, and his brothers don't like to go to sleep without him there first. 

  I nod my head and gently shove him towards the door, sticking my tongue out at him. 

  "I'm not a kid anymore, Yongguk-ah," I lament, walking back to the front desk and ticking off the last delivered bouquet orders from today in the file book. "I can take care of myself."

  "You're barely twenty," he argues. 

  "I am twenty," I shoot back, raising my eyebrows at him. "And you can't change me back into a kid no matter how hard you try." 

   He rolls his eyes at me and before I know it, he rushes up to me and ruffles up my hair, making it stand out in every which way. 

  "Yah!" I yell as I laugh, grabbing for his hair. 

  He ducks just as my hands reach him and then he sweeps his hands under my legs and pulls me up from behind the desk, planting me back on my feet expertly in front of him. He's smiling a smile that one only has when they're trying to hold back a laugh. 

  I make a face at him and start to smooth my hair down with my fingers, removing the hair tie and sliding it down my wrist. 

  "What was that for?" I ask grudgingly, placing my hands on my hips. 

  "For back-sassing me," he replies easily. He pats the top of my head and his eyes linger on mine for a long moment. "Go home soon, okay?"

  "Deh, I got it," I answer, smiling. "You go now, your dongsaengs are probably getting annoyed waiting for you already." 

  He looks back once more as he grabs his jacket and heads towards the door. He stops just as he opens it and the windchimes clink around softly. 

  "They can wait a bit more," he reasons. "They're not kids anymore either - I'll walk you home, the news said that there's a high chance of a storm coming tonight and - " 

  I cut him off with a look. 

  "You're not staying with me and that's final," I declare, using one of my strict tones that I rarely use with anyone. 

   He purses his lips and, after a few more hesitations from him and some sharp words from me, we say our goodbyes and he finally leaves the shop, the chilly night air breezing towards me as the door swings softly shut behind him.

  I walk back behind the front desk and open up the file book again, going over some last minute arrangements that were created from last minute calls today, and copy a few numbers and addresses that were made on blue sticky notes from a few customers looking to order a number of seeds or fertilizers. 

  Daehyun-sshi is very organized, that I can say from the week that he's been working here. 

  I slide my finger down the notes that he'd jotted down in the file book, noticing just how neat and meticulous his handwriting is. Next to my spiky script, it makes mine seem so rushed. 

  I'm just about finished with everything when I hear a low rumble from outside. 

   "...the news said there's a high chance of a storm coming tonight...", I remember Yongguk informing me. 

  Hurriedly, I grab my jacket, bag  and umbrella from the counter and pull the shop's keys out, funbling with the key ring as I pick out the individual one I'm looking for. After slinging my bag and my jacket over my shoulders and flicking the lights off, I lock the door and head outside into the night, pushing the umbrella open as I walk. 

  The night is windy and the air is heavy with precipitation as I hurry down the street towards my small rooftop efficiency (A/N: a rooftop efficiency is a tiny building that is almost like an apartment, but it is only big enough to house two habitants - like a house with two levels but an apartment room on each level). 

  A slight drizzle falls from the dark sky, making light pattering noises against the ground. 

   I've only gone a short distance when the rain starts to get heavier, coming down in angry sheets and splashing against my shoes. Before I know it, my pants are fully soaked and so is the bottom half of my shirt. 

  The wind starts to grow stronger as well, and it becomes so bad that I can't even see what is in front of me, or hear anything but the pounding of the rain on the sidewalk, and the whistle and scream of the wind. I struggle with my umbrella as the wind tears at it, turning it inside out, and, before I can even register what is happening, it blows away from my hands and disappears down the street. I'm soaked in seconds. 

  Where am I?

  I whip my hair, which has come loose again and flies in all directions, over my shoulder and out of my eyes, trying furiously to examine my surroundings. I feel my body start to tremble and my chin quiver. I wrap my arms around myself, the same stance I'd used that one horrible night thirteen years ago, hidden behind the thin door of the closet.

  Memories rush back to me, attacking my mind ruthlessly and without mercy.

   Thunder tears through the silence of the bedroom as my mother shoves me into a closet, whispering desperately for me to stay quiet, tears dripping down her cheeks. Then the the sound of her screams, and the grunts and shouts from my father as he tries to fight back at the dark intruder who had pounded his way into the room. The bright stain of red splashing onto the floor as I watch through the gaps in the closet door. The quick gasps of my parents' breaths, growing quieter by the second, until they disappear altogether. Then, finally, the unhinged laugh of the man who had murdered them; a laugh that sounds almost like a sob. 

   I race away in front of me, unknowing of where I am going and not caring all at the same time. 

*~(~*~(~*~(~*

Bang Yong Guk's POV: 

  I look out the window anxiously as the rain crashes down, making pools in the streets. I see a car come by as I watch, and as it passes, the water rushes beneath it as if the car is a boat floating atop a tiny river. The trees rock back and forth in a sort of frenzy, and the wind is so strong I can hear the whistle of it loud and clear, as if I were outside myself. 

   I'd tried calling Sarang's phone eleven times already, and each time my call had been sent to voicemail. 

  "You're still up?" a sleepy voice calls from behind me. I recognize it as Himchan. 

  "I should be saying the same to you," I say, without looking back. "You have early classes tomorrow. You should sleep first."

  "Ah, screw that," he says as he comes to stand beside me. "University's so messed up; I can't even have any fun anymore. And the news says that the storm probably won't let up until the next afternoon, so classes might be cancelled, who knows. It's the worst storm we've seen in fifteen years." 

  We look out for a moment, the scream of the storm quaking the house. Lightning flashes and turns the room a white-blue for a split second, and soon afterwards, the loud, deep rumble of the thunder sounds.

  "I've been hearing you dialing a number for over half an hour," he comments, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. "Who is it?" 

  "Sarang," I answer, then swallow once. "She was the one to lock up the shop by herself and she insisted that I go home first. She won't answer her phone." 

  Himchan puffs his cheeks out and lets the air out slowly. 

  "That's not good," he says unhelpfully. "She was always scared of lightning storms. I could never remember why."

  "Her parents were murdered during a lightning storm," I say hollowly, bitterness flowing in my words. "It was the worst night of her life." 

  There's a moment of silence between us as we continue to watch the storm outside. 

  "Well, what are you going to do about it?" he asks me. 

  I look at him once. He's wearing a knowing smirk on his face, like he's already predicted what I know I'm about to do and he's amused by it. 

   "Come back safely," he calls after me as I pull a heavy raincoat on and rush out the door. 

*~(~*~(~*~(~*

Jung Daehyun's POV: 

  I finish tracing the outline of her hand, lying limply on the floor, a pool of black ink seeping from it. Her hair lies on the ground in scattered waves, and her eyes look up out of the paper, pupils diluted and lifeless. 

   It is on nights like these that the things I draw become this gruesome; with the lamplight shining over the desk in a dim glow, and the sound of the storm raging from outside. 

   I've already made multiple drawings and sketches of Park Sarang, alive and dead. She's a thought that can't stay out of my mind for one second, one moment. It's gotten so bad that I can't sleep anymore; insomnia attacks me each night just as I rest my head upon my pillow. 

  Sighing, I push the various ink drawings of her to the right of the desk, clearing a space for a fresh drawing. 

  Slowly, I trace the frame of a large body in pencil, with broad shoulders and a strong, defined chin and long muscled legs and arms. Then I take my pen and draw on the large man's clothes, all in black ink. He wears a black hood atop his head, covering his eyes, and long black boots on his feet. Slung over his shoulder is  a large black duffel bag. 

   For the finishing touch, I gently draw a grin stretching below the bottom half of his face, as if the man were laughing. 

  A sudden flash of lightning shocks its way into the room, startling me and making my pen glide across the page in shock. The drawing is ruined. I don't mind as much, though. 

  Tonight reminds me of the time thirteen years ago when I was waiting for my father at home, sitting awake on the front porch, imagining what he might be doing at the moment and trying not to be frightened as the rain poured over the steps and splattered on my socks. 

   I don't like to be reminded of such things. 

  Letting my pen fall from my fingers, I gather up my recent drawings and place them inside my drawing folder, then shove them beneath my pillow. 

  Ahjumma isn't in the house; earlier on today, she'd learned that one of her friends had been admitted into the hospital from a heart attack, or something like that. She told me she would be staying overnight at the hospital, and for me to take care of the house. I'd accepted. 

  I make my way up the stairs from the basement and shuffle into the kitchen. The storm can be seen clearly wreaking all sorts of havoc outside from the windows, casting eerie shadows against the walls. The occasional flash of lightning covers the room for half a second, and then disappears again, letting the darkness return and the thunder rumble angrily after it. 

   I walk over to the living room and switch on one of the lamps. A soft, yellow glow brightens a bit of the room. 

  I go over to the tall windows at the front of the room, looking out over the front of the house. Pushing over the curtains, I peer out, to see barely anything clearly visible through the storm. 

  There's just gray, my mind comments emptily. Just swirling, angry gray. 

  I feel a tear make its way down my cheek and I brush it away impatiently. 

  How can I be so weak? 

  I have been working at Petals for over a week already. Every day, a new opportunity has appeared for me to take Park Sarang's life. But I am too weak and stupid. No matter how many times I lift a pot over her head so that I may bash her into unconsciousness, I set it down onto a table as soon as she turns around. I cannot stop thinking of how she smiles when she notices me there, so oblivious to the fact that I could've pounded her so easily a second before. 

  I focus all my attention on the storm outside, just so that I won't have to think of anything else. 

  And then, the dark outline of a figure appears out of nowhere on what I presume is the street. Startled, I move closer to the window, wondering just who exactly could be outside in their right mind. 

  The figure is slight, presumably feminine. Any other features are impossible to distinguish. 

  She's making her way closer to the house. 

  I bite my lip. What if she wants to come inside? 

  Lightning strikes once again and I watch as the girl jumps and falls. She hits the ground heavily, and it seems like she's injured her knee. She raises her arms and hugs herself, somehow making her look smaller than she is.

  I swallow hard. 

  What am I doing? 

  I look around the room and grab one of my leather jackets from the rack and open the door. Rain and wind blow in immediately, striking my face like a blow from a fist. Gritting my teeth, I force my way out the door, the water soaking me the instant I step out. 

   Wind rages all around me, whipping at my hair and clothes. I don't know which way is up or down. 

  "Hey!" I yell as loud as my voice can muster. "Hey, are you there?!"

  I run forward, thankfully seeing the outline of the girl on the ground. She's covered her head with the hood of her jacket, and her arms are cradling her knee. 

  I bend next to her and grab hold of her arm. Her head moves to look in my direction, but the hood blocks her from seeing me. 

  "I'm going to bring you inside!" I yell at her. 

  She nods her head slowly. 

   As quickly as I can, I pull her up by the underarms and drag her onto my back. She wraps her arms around my neck tightly and I place my hands under her legs and heave her up, then make my way over in the direction of the house.

   Fortunately, I see it loom up in front of us, and I run inside the open door, careful not to slip on any stray puddles. When we're both safely in, I rush over to one of the couches and slide her gently down on the cushions, then run back to the door and slam it shut. There's already a pool of water at the entrance, so I grab one of the mats from the floor behind me and drop it onto the puddle, hoping that it might soak it all up before Ahjumma comes back.

   I look back at the couch.

   The girl is sitting huddled into a ball, and the small whimpering noises she's making suggests to me that she's crying.

   Legs moving heavily, I move towards her, switching the lights on as I go. It bathes the room in a bright yellow warmth.

   I can't believe that I just did that. What drove me to do something so stupid? Now there's a random stranger inside Ahjumma's house, and she won't stop crying.

   I clear my throat. It sounds brash in the silence of the room. my lips, I walk closer to her and carefully sit beside her, bending my head to look at her more closely. Something about her seems so recognizable, but I can't seem to place a finger on why exactly. I open my mouth to say something, but she speaks suddenly, stopping me. 

  "Thank you," a familiar soft voice says. 

  My eyes widening, I watch as she brings her hood back from her face and looks over at me with her big eyes. 

  Park Sarang. 

  "Thank you, Daehyun-ah," she says again, smiling through tear tracks along her cheeks. "Thank so you so much."

   And she lifts her arms to me and wraps me into a hug, burying her face into my chest.

Thank you so much for those who have read the fourth chapter of "Love in Murder" and have been following along to the story!
   You seriously don't know how much that means to me :) 
   Please leave a comment at the bottom and subscribe if you'd like ^^ 
~TheNightCircus~