9 o'clock news:
 

'Three bodies were discovered around Gang-nam at 5 a.m. this morning, another was discovered at 7 a.m. lying inside a trash can in Myeong-dong district. The four deceased are all said to be young people in their early 20s. When asked for a statement, the police chief didn't comment.'

***
 

I was strapped to a chair and screaming with as much force as my lungs could muster. I felt my throat grow hoarse but the chainsaw kept rumbling. I changed tactics. I begged, pleaded for my life. I’d have gotten on my knees if possible. I wanted to stay intact. I was too young. I was naive. I’d yet to confess to my first love. I couldn’t die like this. Not at these hands.

His demonic eyes rolled in his sockets. His pupils glowered with mischief. His shaggy hair stuck out in odd places. He was mad. He cackled at my cries, taking sadistic pleasure. I struggled and kicked trying to loosen the noose which strapped me. Tears streaked my panic stricken face. I didn’t want to die. The chainsaw came down on my wrist. I heard an awful snap and blood spurted freely. I screamed as if all my touch receptors had caught fire. A flimsy hand flopped to the ground.

He picked it from the ground and it. “The prince of darkness is a gentleman,” he promised and pressed his lips to my dead fingers.

I shrieked harrowingly, jolting out of bed. Automatically I clasped my wrist and sobbed with fright. I hugged myself knowing I’d never really thought how great if was to be whole. I’d been taking myself for granted this whole time!

Junsu's face still flooded my memory like a ghastly disease. His nefarious grin reached his ears and the perspiration I’d woken drenched in, didn’t need to tell me that I was afraid of him, afraid of what he could do, afraid of what he could be.

A chill traveled down my spine.

I covered my ears not wanting to know more. There was no sound, only whispers of phantoms in my thoughts. They breathed ‘collector’ in hisses that made me jitter. I didn’t dare to breath the name in case he were to appear. I didn’t dare move an inch from my spot in case he was there for when I turned around. I didn’t want to die at his hands, didn’t want to become part of his ludicrous collection. His interest in my hands made my stomach queasy. I felt it convolute unnaturally and before I had time to register, out came the contents of last night. There was a lump among the puke. Strangely it resembled my dead hand and then I was gone, vomiting until not even water could survive in the pits of my stomach.

-

I was diagnosed with illness, not the kind you get from spoiled food, no. My sickness came from dread. The level was other-worldly. I couldn’t function the way I wanted because I knew he would be lurking somewhere, creeping, waiting for the right chance.

I was ill with unease, distress, and the urge to puke the contents of my stomach came all too easily when I heard yet another heart had been stolen. That to me sounded like the voice of madness, Jung Joongyoung’s voice, oscillating through the hammer of my ear endlessly lost in a deep cave.

I couldn’t block him out. I couldn’t stop washing my hands. I intentionally bought salt to throw over my shoulders. I was sure not to break mirrors, or run into black cats. I abided by all the laws of superstition doing what I could to grasp onto good luck.

He was the devil. Publicly he collected bones. He showed interest in my hands. Who knew what kind of experiments Amazon underwent in secret? Was that creature perhaps in search for the 'right' heart? I trembled to think of such things.

I was out of my mind when I showed up at their doorstep. My only comfort was in knowing that Jaejoong would be there. He was always there. He would protect me from his batty half-brother.

-

I dusted the shelves of Junsu's room, neatening the piles of obscene magazines folded between the piles of educational books and scribbles of notes he no longer needed. I may have overlooked it, called the clenching of my stomach a total misunderstanding, proven to my amygdala that it was reading the situation too much, if only my foot didn’t brush against a jar.

There was a swoosh of liquid. I frowned. Why was he keeping a jar of water under his bed? Thinking it was probably alcohol I thought to shove it deeper so he wouldn't trip over it.

Squatting, I fell on my rear and stared. A mass of wrinkles glared insidiously. The warning bells in my head sounded. They blared in my ears until I could only hear ringing. I crawled to my feet and ran from there, rushing to find the toilet where I fell to my knees and vomited the inside of my stomach into the bowl.

Lightheaded, I groaned. My palms were slippery as I rooted for my phone and dialed emergency services. It took all of my cognitive processes to describe what I saw shrouded under Junsu​​​​ bed. All I could think of were the heuristics of a serial killer, how my hunch was right, and that preserved brain.

-

Kim Jaejoong arrived home to a house full of policemen. Perturbed he spotted me who was giving my statement in a state of tears and extreme shock, my prosody wavering from high to low and making stuttering sense.

Calmly he inquired about the situation. His glance fell on me as the scenario came to light. A group of men rushed down the staircase, shaking their heads.

My heart plummeted. I too began to shake my head, when they told me they found nothing but cans of beer. My defenses were telling me that Junsu would swallow me whole if I left things like this. I protested vehemently to protect myself. I listed all the idiosyncrasies, each weird case that didn’t happen in normal people. I threw a fit when the police told me they were leaving. I screamed at them, blaming them if I were to die, telling them it would be on their conscience.

In the background, Junsu laughed.

-

More and more hearts went missing. Each news item made me weak with illness. I had almost lost my job at Jaejoong’s house because of 'wild assumptions' but despite Junsu's​​​​​​​ urges to remove me from my post, Jaejoong didn’t. I should've quit, handed in my resignation, after that scene. I only stayed for Jaejoong because I knew in my heart I'd never see him again if I did.

We lived in separate worlds, divided by social constructs that forbid our relationship. Even so, we knew, he and I, about each other's feelings. We never thought to humor them however. It was a silent love that we shared. This was why I was here standing before a closet full of skeletons, staring at Amazon and all her friends dressed for a tea party with the Collector of Hearts.

Was he seeking to revive them? I didn't know, but what I did know was that they petrified me. I could hardly remove my fingers from the knob, hardly shut the closet, hardly breathe as Amazon stared blatantly through empty sockets, her crooked teeth gleaming as she hung from a cord attached to her skull.

I felt a shadow on my back before I turned around.

"Coming into a man's room? Naughty girl! Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles."

I vocalized a scream. He grabbed my neck, pinching it with his pincers. I winced and scratched at his fingers. My air supply was diminishing, my vision was blurring, my body was on fire, warning.

"God hath given you one face and you make yourself another! I'll fry your heart and I'll feed it to Jiji, you wicked thing." He gulped a pearl of laughter. His death grip was choking the life from me. I gasped in search of oxygen.

A blast. His fingers unwinded. He crumpled to the floor. I would have too, if I didn't have support; Jaejoong. My hazy gaze noticed him pale. He held me upright as I guzzled air. I clutched to him, afraid. He was murmuring. His breath tickled my ear. And then we were gone from there.

He brought me to his room. He sat me on his bed, wrapped me in his duvet. All the while I kept a firm hold of his sweater. I couldn’t have him leave. I didn’t want to be alone. He must've noticed this because he squeezed my hand. "Let me get you some tea."

"I don't like tea," I rasped.

"Then what would you like?"

"You."