note: like i said...make sure you've read the first two stories or you probly won't understand what's happening here.

"Not dead yet? Why are you still here?"

Not exactly the kind of greeting I would be expecting, or prepared to accept. Knowing I just lost against a battle to die, and then to go through all the difficulties because I was worried for him, and yet to be greeted with this mockery from him, it was like a big fat condescending laugh on my face.

But it was a relief he seemed alright. Alive and still with his words that sting but seemed to have grown more poisonous. It was even amusing that he was able to recognize me even with this huge shades still covering half my face.

"I...well, I can go anywhere I want to. I don't think this place belongs to you."

"A liar, as always. Huh...you wouldn't come if it's not because of me."

My face felt stiff, every single thing he said, was still the truth.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Ahjumma? Afraid for all your ugly lies to be revealed?"

So much contempt and bitterness, and now he's calling me ahjumma...strangely reminding me of that strange ahjumma at that mansion. Have I done something so cruel to him that the hate felt so vivid?

"Why don't you just go die?"

I wanted to rattle, as much hate and pain as I've received all my life, it didn't hurt as much as this, having someone wishing you to die, and not just anyone. Why? 

"Do you hate me that much?" But in the end, I could only ask calmly, because what gives me the right to blow up to a stranger that threw hateful words to me. Yes, in the end, it is an undeniable truth that he's just a stranger, no more no less. A familiar stranger. There's no point of being so affected or hurt because of an irrelevant stranger, but why does it still somehow hurt anyway? Maybe I shouldn't have asked that question. He could just admit that he hate me, even though he was the same person who begged me to not leave him and said that I needed to be with someone who wants to be with me, just some...less than two months ago. The irony.

"Hate you?" He suddenly laughed, it grew louder by the second that it sent me shivers even though I wore two layers of clothing. It wasn't bad, she gave me a navy blue long pants, sky blue button down shirt and a red open cardigan. As much as they look decent enough for me, the bright colours manage to make me feel a little uncomfortable and self conscious.

"Do you think you're that great that everything revolves around you?" He asked, point-blank as ever after he stopped laughing.

"I never said that. Well, I'm glad you're still alive and doing well, sarcastic and sharp tongued as ever. I'll be going then." His presence no longer emit the thrilling yet comforting air. Instead, it felt like my chest and my head would burst out at any given second if I stayed in the same space as he, longer.

I no longer wish he would stop me from leaving, because at the rate of his indifference now, it's obvious that he won't and maybe that's for the best.

But he did.

"Just what makes you think you can come and leave as you like? And what do you mean you're glad I'm alive and doing well? Are you trying to make fun of me now?"

I could see his hand shaking. How much force must he been using? Still, I refused to believe that he'd hurt me even if he already was doing it. I refused to address it or point it out. Maybe because at the back of my head, I was afraid of his response that he really didn't care, or he's happier to hurt me.

I'd rather not hear that.

"You're the one mocking me, kid. I don't even know why...you stopped me from wanting to die and now you asked me why I didn't just die. I've never met anyone as cruel as you."

His silence for a few following seconds almost convinced me that he'd return to his senses, or...the dreamy, supportive stranger he was supposed to be, he once was.

But I was wrong.

"Cruel huh? Says the liar ahjumma." He sneered. I glanced at the ends of his fingers that have grown red from all the force and how my wrist had changed colour too. But I wouldn't say a thing about it this time. I really wanted to know what was wrong with him to act in such a way. Everytime we meet, I'm never prepared for his ever changing versions of attitude.

"Ahjumma, you're just hypocrite and selfish. Are you greedy too?"

I remained silent. Taking in everything even if I couldn't understand where they came from, considering I did nothing to him, not that I could recall. I felt too tired to fight anyway. Running away when I haven't really recovered entirely, was a bad idea afterall. I get tired faster than usual.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Cat got your tongue? Or some Cherry whoever?"

I took a deep breath. Silence wouldn't work.

"Are you sick?"

He scoffed, and I braved myself to glance up at his face. His face still looked as perfectly handsome and dreamy as ever, from up close, but his expression, it was too hard to perceive.

"Yeah, I'm sick..." He brought his face closer to my ear, and even though I flinched away, I knew it was of no use, since his palm was still attached to my wrist. 

"...Of you." He whispered.

"Then, why don't you just release my hand so I can disappear? You don't have to see me again. If you want to claim this river as yours, I can go to any other river. No big deal, really."

"Suicide doesn't match you, Ahjumma. Aren't you too old to do things that are only for young people, like that?"

It was my turn to scoff at his stupid statement. But he continued.

"In fact, so many things about you are unmatching. Just look at your clothes, blue and red, really? And this stupid sunglasses and lipstick. Nothing matches you." He kept talking to my ear, even when he was no longer whispering the insane words. Why should he be bothered if I wear unmatching colours as he would say? I wanted to ask him aloud, but I was more worried of losing all my energy. I still need to be able to return home...or to the hospital afterwards. The taxi I took to come here, was still waiting quite a distance from the river. I needed energy to at least go back there.

Soon enough I felt him breathing heavily, the released warm air, hitting against my neck, strangely. He finally let go of my wrist at the same moment, but I failed to heave a sigh of relief. Because everything happened so fast. The moment he let go of my hand, he pulled off the sunglasses from my eyes and threw it away to the ground, to my horror, and before I could say anything or bend down to pick it up, his thumb was pressed onto my lips and brushed against them in wiping motion while his face was as unreadable as ever. The next thing my brain registered was hands ing my shirt. Not my hands, and it was already the second button.

This isn't right.

No, it's crazy.

Who cares if I couldn't preserve energy to make it to the taxi, I haven't lost my mind to just let this craziness continue.

Rather than pushing or slapping him, I simply pulled my ownself backwards and pulled both sides of my cardigan to overlap each other and to cover the entire of the blue shirt underneath.

"That's enough. No, that's too much. You're crazy. Don't appear in front of me again or I'll call the police. I'm serious." I tried to not break down and let my anger or even shock get the better of me. It wasn't that hard. I had been practicing for years to perfect my skills, living in pretense. Always acting like what an old, matured, wise woman should instead of following my real feelings and instinct.

I turned and walked away, my heart kept threatening to jump out but I needed to remain calm, at least until I'd be sure it's safe to be the mess I shouldn't be. But then as I kept walking away, I remembered the dreams, the guilt, the real reason I came.

"By the way..." I turned towards him but not really having enough courage to look him in the eyes because I wasn't confident I wouldn't go berserk. "I came because I felt guilty I left just like that without telling, the other day, when I was looking for Cherryish. Though I really didn't have to. I was stupid enough to be worried you'd do anything stupid or I don't know... But now, I don't think that will be the case anymore. Still, ...I apologize. Live well, or however you want to. I don't care."

I tried to make a speech as cool as possible but I wasn't even sure what I mumbled. All I knew was that I needed to find refuge as fast as I could. With every growing steps I took, my energy vastly depleted. I didn't even know what gave me strength to reach the taxi and keeping the strong facade all the way through the journey.

I didn't know either how I made it into the building without anyone questioning me, or when I instructed the taxi driver to go to the hospital instead of back home or anywhere else. But I knew it was the right decision when I saw the bright face and her blinding smile that greeted me warmly, and I realized how cold I felt. And that I no longer had her shades to take shade from the brightness of her smile. Or to conceal pathetic, cheap broken pieces I had become.

All I know is that I broke down and cried without a care in front of that young girl as she hesitantly patted my back and tried to calm me down. Maybe she was worried we'd be found by the nurses though we're hidden from them at the hospital's emergency staircase. But I couldn't care less anymore. Bedamned if they'd think I'm misbehaving for my age. I never felt as low as then.

"Unnie, don't cry. He's not worth your tears." She pulled my hands, that I just noticed, was still tugging at the cardigan that was tightened over me.

But I didn't cry because of him, it was just self pity for my own worthless stupid self. Wasn't it?

"Unnie, maybe he's just not your prince charming, but instead a...uhh....Hamlet. No, a drugged Hamlet. She snapped her finger.

"A...what?"

"A drugged Hamlet. You know, Shakespeare?"

"Do you even know about Hamlet or his characteristics?"

"No, that's why I made him drugged so that his characteristics doesn't matter anymore. Am I not smart, Unnie?"

I didn't expect it to be that fast, but her unexpected ideas just brought strange amusement that I suddenly laughed. She was smart, indeed.

"Yay, Unnie laughed. Don't cry for him again, okay. Unless you really love him."

I didn't know how to answer her.

"Sorry I lost your...sunglasses."

"Unnie, don't tell me that's the reason you cried."

I shrugged.

"Yah, pabo Unnie!" She playfully hit my shoulder.

"Anyway, I'm glad you come back. Really, really glad. Remember when I said I'd help you on two conditions? I already told you the first one but not the second one."

I nodded, despite not really recalling it.

"Well, the second one..., and since you're back, you have to fulfill it."

"I...I'll see if I can."

"Be my friend. Be my best friend for life. Besides, aren't I better than that drugged Hamlet who made you cry?"

So much better. The mention of this 'drugged' Hamlet somehow made me smile, even if it was supposed to refer to the unhappy, hurtful events that just filled the night she didn't even know of, yet considerate enough to not pry into. She just had a way of turning lemons into lemonade, rain into rainbow, and gloom into laughter. And she returned the smile, her ever bright, blinding smile.

As I feared, it wasn't a ball worth attending, as I only met with a drugged Hamlet instead of a Prince Charming. But because of my fairy godmother, it wasn't long before the pain replaced with laughter. Yet, I knew it wouldn't be long, before I fell into my pointless mulling again. Why was Hamlet drugged in the first place and who drugged him to behave in such a cruel way that wasn't like him? Or did he drugged himself?

I wish Hamlet could be undrugged, or cured somehow. Even though I'm well aware that the damage has been done, words couldn't be unsaid, actions couldn't be undone and feelings couldn't be unhurt.