9 o’clock news:

‘The string of new attacks is targeting wealthy young women, according to Seoul Metropolitan Police Station. Criminal psychologists have profiled the Collector of Hearts to be a young man in his twenties.’

***

My pupils trembled. I could hardly believe my eyes. I gripped my pocket knife through my coat. There was no solace. My emotions dried. My senses faded until only sight dominated. I stared. A handful of persevered hearts beat lifelessly, others dead, floating in a type of solution. I thought I’d be sick.

There was no sanitization in this basement and rats frolicked around at my feet. I could feel them graze my shoes. Heartbeats began to thunder through my skull. My stomach churned. I saw imaginary carcass lying on the floor, each with a hole in their ribs, all staring at me accusingly. I shook my head. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Where was I?

Ghosts stared with unblinking eyes, not at me but at him, Jaejoong. He was soaked in blood. I could smell the sickly rust from where I stood. His appeared half crazed. His normally perfect hair was sticking out at odd ends. His clothes were crumpled. His hands were bloodied and there was blood even on his face. He looked as if he’d seen a nightmare, as if he hadn’t fully awoken from it.

“J-Junsu-” he managed to splutter.

My head began to shake. I didn’t want to know what he’d done to Junsu.

“He died, Jessica, he’s dead.”

I felt a chill creep into my bones. My throat ran dry. I wanted to ask him ‘why?’ However he was struggling too. His distress made things worse. A part of me wanted to reach out to him yet I was afraid, rooted to my spot fearing that he would make me a part of his collection too. I was scared he would stab me out of nowhere. He could get me whenever he wanted. I was not protected by a psychiatric ward. I lived in his house. I slept next to him. I was always near him like now. I wanted to run far away. I couldn’t. My feet were rooted in their spot. His gaze felt mine on him. Our eyes met, his were b with tears.

I said nothing about it. We never spoke of it again. The basement under his house was filled with an assortment of hearts. It would be our secret. But that didn’t mean I didn’t think to turn him in. I thought about it all the time. I wanted to call the police. There were times I dialed for emergency services but I could never press that call button. I only remember Jaejoong’s distress. It clouded my judgment. I didn’t want him arrested! I didn’t want him to be taken away from me! Those people in the news were none of my business. My business was to protect the one I loved. I needed Jaejoong. He was my addiction and I was overdosed to the point where I would cease to exist without him.

Every night I cried when he wasn’t by my side. I knew what he was doing. In the morning the news would report his adventures. I felt as if it were me who was cutting up people.

One day I gained the courage to confront him.

“It’s not me,” he replied simply. He glanced at me expecting to hear more. My tortured physiognomy invited a hug. “Jessica I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I can’t hurt you. I love you.”

I muffled a sob, burying my head into his chest. It hurt to love. It hurt so much but it strengthened my resolve. I would keep his secret. I would take it with me to the grave. He was crazy, I knew, but his intentions weren’t wrong. He was just in need of help. I wanted to help him. Someone needed to be there for him and I knew that could only be me.

I spent my free time searching how to help psychopaths. He lacked empathy, I discovered. That made very little sense to me because I knew he loved me, that he cherished me. Ever since my walk into his secret, he treated me with much more sensitivity. If he truly lacked feelings then he wouldn’t or worse, he’d have killed me. He was someone who couldn’t bear to see a scratch on me. It made no sense for him to be a collector. I could change him perhaps.

So I decided to follow him one day on his outing. I felt remorse for keeping a knife on my person but I couldn’t let him kill me. There would be no one on his side if I died. He didn’t drive, I noticed. He was strolling.

We ended up in the neighborhood park. Other than us, the park was empty. He began to exercise. I was confused. I waited for him, counting the seconds as they turned into minutes and then to hours. There wouldn’t be a death tonight, my intuition told me. The air was cool, making all my hairs stand. I wondered why he wasted his energy here at all.

I was almost asleep when he woke me. A shake of my shoulders and my eyes fluttered open. Seeing only a blur, I whipped out my pocket knife defensively.

“! Jessica what are you doing?” His voice stirred me. I rubbed my eyes to see that he was horrified by my action. Smiling meekly, as if it were a nor