The interviews weren’t hard for Jongup. He described everything that he saw the first time he was asked, because it was always in his mind. Everything was so vivid from that night. At first he panicked, seeing her on the floor, motionless, but once he had been told of her state his emotions had left him like someone had opened an upturned water bottle and had let everything flush away. He noticed things that he hadn’t noticed before, like how when the sun started to set the clouds above him had gone dark and miserable, as if they knew their hope was leaving. The doors on the other side of the road were all closed, locked, bolted, probably securing a family from the dangers of the outside. So much safety. And Minah had somehow managed to bypass it all, and had found herself in the firing line.

He’d never panicked so much when he saw his beautiful sister on the floor. He knew there was no saving her but he’d repeatedly asked her to respond to him anyway, clinging to any hope that he had left. He hoped if he put in effort to checking she was alright, she would return the favour and open her eyes. She didn’t. She never did again.

He’d never see her eyes again. Minah’s face was just a picture, her voice just a memory. He loved his sister, but he was now always worried that he hadn’t told her enough. They’d always argued, but they’d always got on. Jongup knew he hadn’t made the most of being Minah’s brother. She was so talented and happy and although he wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, let alone her, he felt his happiest when he was with her. Numerous girlfriends passed by but he’d always prefer to have a movie night with Minah than to have a meal with his date.

They had the same humour, they understood each other and what the other person liked and disliked. Jongup was lazy, and he couldn’t be bothered finding somewhere to tell everything about himself when his sister knew already. He knew that was ridiculous and he’d change his mind when he found ‘the one’, but now he was content with sharing his apartment with his own flesh and blood. He enjoyed having her floating around, singing or talking, whether it was to herself or to shout at her brother.

He willed himself to never forget her voice. Her beautiful voice that he’d never hear again.

His sister’s voice.

Would he ever forget his sister’s voice?

The thought made him shudder. It was still as clear as day in his head, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before the melody would not be present in his mind. Jongup wasn’t a pessimist, but he was always firm with himself when it came to “it’ll be alright” kind of things. If he knew it wasn’t alright, that’d get sorted in his mind straight away. It helped him deal with it better.

He knew Minah was dead. As soon as he heard the bang, he knew she was dead. He prepared himself for the worst, and it happened. He led on floor next to her and clung to her body, taking in her scent and the way she lay as if she’d dozed. He heard someone crying a name, a woman, and another guy. But he stayed quiet, whispering into Minah’s ear how much he loved her, until someone put her on a stretcher.

He wasn’t sure what happened to the others. He knew two others had died, the policewoman had told him. But he didn’t know what their names were, how long they had survived after the bullets hit them, how the people who were with them were related. How it had effected them.

Jongup wanted to meet them. He wanted to tell them about Minah, and he wanted to hear about them talk about who they had lost. When he’d lost his grandfather him and Minah were always told by their neighbour that they should go to a support group and meet others who had been through losses of loved ones, and he had brushed it off as a stupid idea; why did he want to tell people about his granddad? He wanted to keep him close and didn’t want to talk about him to anyone.

But he felt different about this. These people hadn’t just gone through what he’d gone through, they’d been where he’d been, same time, same place, same incident. They didn’t have to talk about that night, but they’d have a bond wouldn’t they? They might find comfort in each other.

He didn’t know whether he’d find comfort in them, but it was worth a try. Jongup felt like he’d been hung out to dry; he felt so emotionless and cold, like Minah had been the colour in his life and he’d been drained. He wondered if the others felt like that. He didn’t know. But he wondered.

He took his phone, and his thumb wavered above the buttons to ring the police station so he could contact them. He wasn’t sure how long he started at the screen, doubting himself now. Feelings as a child without his grandfather came back, and his realistic and independent character came back. He tapped his foot on the floor, then with sudden decision dialled a number and pressed the green button. He put the device to his ear and waited.

“Hi, can I order a pizza please?”