Let’s Stop

Let’s Stop

 

 

There are some things that you’d rather not find out…

 

C

Chae looked down at her hands in silence, wondering what he’d meant earlier. Maybe all this time all there had been between them really were lies. Or, perhaps she was seeing things that weren’t there, and that scared her the most. She didn’t know what was real any more, and couldn’t comprehend her own feelings. Was it really saying there was nothing, what he’d said?

He told her it was an expression of his feelings, the ring. She didn’t want it, it sparkled in a taunting way, the way something that knows it doesn’t truly belong to you does – because it knows you’re not supposed to be holding it. They look at you, and twinkle, rattle, whatever they can do to tell everyone else ‘look at me, I don’t really belong to her. Save me.’

She’d left it at the restaurant that night, along with Ryang. Chae didn’t want any part of it, and yet…it lingered.

 

Chae sat on the kitchen counter, Ryang’s diary in her hand reading over the pages again and again. The words were there, but, she couldn’t believe them. The kitchen around her, pale yellow and neatly arranged began to feel smaller the more her hazel eyes took in. It shrunk until she was fighting to breathe, the walls had crammed themselves up against her, and her face was pressed again the kitchen counter, her legs tucked up under her. Pale fingers lingered over the pages as she turned them. There was a morbid curiosity to what she read; the more she saw, the more it felt like there was a gaping wound in her chest, drenching her in blood. The more it hurt, Chae longed for the numbness that she always took refuge in after things upset her…for the pain to be hidden away in a box inside of her. To sew up her wounds and never let it known was all she ever did. Eyes scanned the thick paper, hungrily; looking for more answers Chae let the diary explain all her problems into being. Once they were real, they were actually realised…they existed. After all that time, she’d thought she was mad to think it, but he’d lied to her.

 

“Leave…” Mi-Yuk told her for the fifth time. “You don’t need him anyway. He’s always telling you it’s your fault. He’s the one that wrote all this!”

 

There were times when Chae thought of Mi-Yuk as real, but she knew better. Mi-Yuk was long dead, it was exactly what he’d say though. Over and over, he’d tell her what she had to do to put things right, to get away from the rest of the world, and it had always worked. He used to know what was really going on – he’d explain what love truly was, and why real love hurt, it wasn’t happy. When they were fifteen he told her real love was secret, true love crossed bridges that no one else could ever understand. He’d said he’d always be with her, and now he was. He was so ingrained in her mind that she knew exactly what he’d tell her. She had to get away from Ryang, he didn’t really love her.

Mi-Yuk had told her he’d be waiting for her that night when they were eighteen, as he lay in hospital barely able to focus on her – she’d just never worked out where he’d be, and how she could get back to him. 

 

Tears welled up in her almond shaped eyes, her mouth moving silently as she searched for the words. All that came were shrieks of pain, sobs, whimpers. Chae snatched the book up once more, hands trembling and began to rip the paper from it’s bindings, scattering the tatters of writing about the kitchen in a mixture of grief and frustration.

 

Eventually, her breathing slowed, Chae slid herself from the counter clumsily and stumbled into the living room.

 

I don’t understand her any more – she’s so lost I feel like if I tip the scale a grain of rice too far she’ll do something terrible.

 

 She ran the words over and over in her mind until they no longer meant anything to her. They had meant little in the first place. What kind of terrible thing did Ryang think she’d do?

 

Chae looked around herself in a slight daze, tears still blurring her vision and her mind still burning with Mi-Yuk’s words since the day they’d met. Ever since he’d died, her family said she acted strangely – in the seven years since it had only gotten worse, how she closed herself off and only really trusted the Mi-Yuk in her mind. The one he’d told her to always listen to, to keep with her as a way of always having him there. Distance couldn’t separate the great, he used to say. Distance couldn’t separate you from those who knew what was best for you. He knew best, he’d said so. Mi-Yuk had told her she’d never be happy with anyone, no one would do…she’d just have to do as he wanted since no one would love her, he’d take pity on her and pretend for her. Ryang didn’t seem to understand any of this, he didn’t understand that he didn’t love her because no one would – he didn’t believe Mi-Yuk, and that made him wrong.

 

Chae pulled her hair out of the thick plait down her back as she wandered into the shower room, picking up her aspirins and vitamin B tablets, briefly examining the damage done to her face by the tears then left again, pulling the door shut calmly behind her.

 

Her mobile rang, shrillly for the tenth time in the last half an hour, and she frowned, digging out the Iphone to examine the caller ID. Ryang – again. He was being stupid, trying to stop her. She lifted her palm to her lips, pressing the aspirins into her mouth and swallowing fast before she tasted them too much. Without looking back at the phone she put it on the floor beside her, pulled on her headphones and lay down on the wooden floor, staring up at the ceiling blankly. 

 

R

 

Ryang tried calling again, panic growing in the pit of his stomach as he began to run as fast as his burning legs could carry him homewards. What had she meant? Now she wasn’t answering her phone. Going to find Mi-Yuk…going to see Mi-Yuk, she knew where Mi-Yuk was, in the cemetery down town. Ice cold fear ran up his spine as he examined her recent words, and what Chae had mentioned of her half-brother. Ryang knew he’d been dead for six or seven years – he’d overdosed while at an important function for their father’s company. There wasn’t much else he knew except that he sometimes heard her talking to Mi-Yuk when she thought no one else would hear, as if he was still alive…as if it was him running her mind.

 

Ryang’s feet smashed into the pavement, searing pain running through his muscles as he pushed himself to his limit. He sprinted across the over-pass, almost at the apartment, but the dread wouldn’t leave his stomach, he was shaking, covered in sweat, struggling for air but he had to keep going. He pushed his pace up again, tears streaming down his face, because he knew what Mi-Yuk wold tell her what to do if he really were still around…

 

C

Chae smiled slightly to herself as the music washed over her mind, letting her tension melt away. The phone rang again, making her brow crumple for a moment before she averted her gaze once more.

 

“mareopshi suljaneul chaeunda

 

himgyeopge sone deulmyeo hansumeul baeteobonda

 

hanjaneul mashyeobonda

 

neoreul saenggak hamyeo

 

chamgo tto chamawatteon nunmureul hamkke samkinda

 

michidorok saranghaeseo neomuna haengbok haesseotta

 

saranghan chueogeun naegejun neoreul bonaenda”

Chae moved her fingers to her lips once more, dropping the white pills into her mouth slowly. She loved the song, grinning to herself and she swallowed again she closed her eyes. His voice spread through her like liquid, soothing and cool to the touch, running over her as easily as air. The senastion of nothingness, emptiness…weightlessness took ahold of her, lifted her into the dark and comforted her of all her hidden scars. The words gave her hope, made her care – it sounded like Ryang. Sadness welled up in her chest, a tightening sensation stretching through her torso starting with her heart, and she let herself cry a little more. Mi-Yuk sang with her as the pain turned to numbness once more and she drifted into layers of sleep, then deeper. Mi-Yuk had always been right that he’d find her eventually, no matter the distance…

 

And, Chae had been right – Ryang had never been allowed to love her. Mi-Yuk called all the shots. He smiled to himself, eyes alight with mischief as he watched the events unfold, glee filling him until he could barely control the excitement of victory. Lucky he’d taken pity on her, he thought. ‘Where would you be without me, Chae-ah?’

 

Ryan’s screams ripped through the air in reply, as if someone had torn his body to pieces in all directions while he still lived. Mi-Yuk Hyuan Chuckled.