What did Dad say was the 'collarbone'? Ha-yoon ponders as she sits upon the monkey bars. A breeze, carrying the energy and chatter of the playground washes over her, blowing through her black uniform.
The voices reach her ears, holding the recent conversations of the mysterious towers and earthquakes happening not only in Seoul but around the world.
Mom and Dad have been talking a lot about this too lately...hopefully, Dad doesn't become too busy with his patients again. The rhythmic sway of the swings and rustle of the leaves reels her mind back to her previous inquiry.
Legs swinging, in the corner of her eye, an older pink-haired, hunched-over schoolmate diverts her gaze. Clutching a lunchbox and books to their chest, the cruel jibes of other children rained down on them, but they did not act. Why won't she do anything? Irritated, Ha-yoon prepares to descend.
"Hey, Ha-yoon, let's play tag." Min-joo, Ha-yoon's friend, runs to the base of the monkey bars, her black hair in the wind, her face flushed with excitement, and her blue eyes lighting up, completing her sunshine-like smile on her face.
As Ha-yoon touched ground, immediately Min-joo tagged her. "You're it!" she says now more than three arm's lengths away. Ha-yoon looks back at the hunched-over girl, the curly tips of her pink hair casting a shadow over her already dark, black pupils.
"Ha-yoon's it!" It cuts through her mind and is directed to the other classmates who must be in on this mischievous game. The clavicle, it's called the clavicle. Ha-yoon recalled as she began to chase her classmates.
...
As the students find their seats, the teacher walks in and starts writing on his smartboard. Ha-yoon's desk, being in the front left corner of the class gives her a perfect view of the school yard without having to turn her head too much to see the board.
"Ugh," Ha-yoon moans as her long, peach-yellow hair is caught between her back and chair as she adjusts to her seat. Mom's going to need to cut my hair soon, although she likes to say that my long hair gives depth to my stormy eyes, I'm about to lose my mind if this happens again.
"Alright, class," the teacher began, his deep voice resonating through the room. "Who's ready for this 'New Dawn' of the semester?" he says with a stupendous smile on his face.
"Ohhh brother" is heard under A low ring of groans that travels throughout the classroom. How many times is it now he's made the same joke just because our schools name is New Dawn Elementary School?
"Ahem," the teacher clears his throat, "You first graders are a tough crowd every time, huh?" His answer is only met with dead stares.
"Okayyyy," he says while pointing at the words on the smartboard. "Well anyways, who can tell me about the circulatory system?" No one raised their hand, no one except Ha-yoon.
The teacher points to her, "The circulatory system is like a road map for our blood," she explains, her voice steady. "It's made up of the heart, arteries, veins, and capillaries, with the heart being the central station, pumping blood to the rest of the body. Arteries are like big highways that carry oxygen-rich blood away, veins are smaller streets bringing oxygen-poor blood back, and capillaries are tiny alleys where oxygen and nutrients are exchanged for waste."
"There she goes again," someone retorts.
"She's too smart," more voices are heard around the class acknowledging her intelligence.
The teacher's smile widened with approval. "Very good, Ha-yoon. Your father is a doctor, isn't he?" A ripple of murmured agreement passed through the room as Ha-yoon's cheeks turned pink with pride.
...
The cafeteria is bustling with students as they make their way to their tables, contributing to the cacophony of clinking trays and laughter.
"Did you hear what the science teacher said?" Min-joo chirped, sitting across from Ha-yoon, "There's going to be a science fair next month! What should we do together?"
"I'm not sure," Ha-yoon said, shoving a chunk of patbingsu in her mouth. "Buh it hash to bwe shomething really amashing." Mmhm, amazing, just like my dear Patbingsu, Ha-yoon relishes with a smile on her face.
Min-joo giggles, staring at Ha-yoon's chipmunk-like cheeks, "How about a model of the human body? You're so smart, you could teach us all about it!"
"YESH!" Ha-yoon bursts with a piece of fruit flying out of her mouth."Erm..."
Min-joo and Ha-yoon stare blankly at the mangled fruit on the grey tabletop before erupting in laughter.
The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch and the continuation of classes. Children's laughter fades as they file out of the cafeteria, leaving behind echoing footsteps.
The children stream into their next class, murmurs of excitement follow as they make their way to their seats. Si-woo lingers in the back with his lunchbox as a silent companion amidst the riot. Setting his lunchbox in his cubby, his ears instantly make notice of the familiar laughter of Jung-ho and his entourage. With subtle urgency, Si-woo makes his way to the middle of the room where his desk lies before Jung-ho decides on his victims.
The science teacher, a moderately short woman with brown hair and eyes, stands at the front, her hands fluttering over a table laden with scientific paraphernalia. The room falls silent as the children settle down.
"Welcome, young, second-grade scientists!" she announced, clapping her hands. "Today, we'll explore the wonders of chemistry with a bubbly surprise!"
As the experiment commenced, a classic vinegar and baking soda volcano, most of the students watched with rapt attention. But Si-woo barely noticed, his focus pulled to Jung-ho and his gang to the left directly behind him, their mocking gazes pinned on him.
The children gasped as the volcano spews a plume of foam into the air, the room erupting into applause. Si-woo bites his nails. It's over, he's gonna want to "play with me" after school, his cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and anger as he notices Jung-ho's group still staring at him, their laughter a cruel echo in his ears.
The teacher's eyes scan the room, her smile faltering as she sees Si-woo's plight. Recovering, she turns her attention to the apparatuses in front of her. "Ah, it seems our little volcano has had enough for today. Now, who can tell me what happened here? How about you, Jung-ho?"
"I uh- I'm not sure." Jung-ho answers in a low tone.
The room falls silent. Si-woo takes a deep breath, the sulfur aroma lingering in the air stealing his attention from what's behind him.
"Vinegar is an acid, and baking soda is a base," Si-woo explains with a slight twinge in his voice. "When they mix, a reaction called an acid-base reaction occurs that produces carbon dioxide gas. That's what makes the bubbles and the foam."
The air in the room seems to go still, the only sound the faint hiss of the volcano's final gurgles. Teachers' eyes gleam with joy. She nods encouragingly at Si-woo.
"That's right, Si-woo! You've been paying attention. Would you like to come up here and join me? Maybe you can help me with the next experiment."
Si-woo's heart races as he takes a deep breath and reluctantly makes his way to the front of the classroom, every step met by the gazes of each desk he passes by.
Legs feeling like jelly, he reached the teacher who's patiently waiting with a heartwarming grin on her face. Looking up, he could finally see Jung-ho's sour expression and feel the daggers he stared into his soul with his brown eyes.
"Now, let's show everyone what happens when we mix these two substances," the teacher conveys. Si-woo's hands shake slightly as he carefully pours the vinegar into a jar filled with baking soda. The reaction is instant, the jar overflowing with a frothy, colorful concoction. The children ooh and aah, some even leaning in closer.
"See?" She said, looking to the class, "Just like that, we've created a simple chemical reaction. It's not so scary when you know what's happening, right?" Turning to put a hand on Si-woo's shoulder, "Good job, Si-woo," she says, "You have a natural talent for this." The room eases into a mix of compliments and awe; they wash over him, cutting the edge off his nerves as he makes his way to his seat, but is soon revived with just a glare from Jung-ho and his lackeys.
"Alright, everyone." The teacher breathes out, "Remember what you've learned today, and maybe you'll find the bravery to face your own volcanoes. Now, take out your textbooks."
That wasn't so-"Hey Si-woo, let's play after school." Jung-ho breathes into his ear before quickly retreating to his seat. For the rest of the class, Si-woo isn't there.
...
As the day comes to an end, the children quickly leave, grabbing their belongings from their cubbies to go home as soon as possible, while Si-woo stays behind for a little while. The dark clouds cast a looming shadow that creeps through the windows. It looks like it's going to rain today. With a deep breath, Si-woo puts on his backpack and goes to collect his lunch box. Maybe he went home already, Si-woo hoped before exiting into the long hallway.
The corridor is practically empty, with the noise of 'pitter-patters' of water droplets hitting the windows and his footsteps filling it up.
"I'm going to have to clean these things soon," he says to himself, storing his slippers away in his locker and putting on his shoes. He leaves to exit the school through the rear doors, but as he turns the corner, Jung-ho and his friends emerge from a nearby classroom, their eyes locking onto him like predators spotting prey. Jung-ho's smile is cold, his friends' grins wicked. "You think I forgot about you huh?"
The group strides towards Si-woo, blocking his path. His heart sinks; the composure he gained from Jung-ho's absence all at once disappears.
Convicted, Si-woo rushes past the crew, barely being able to squeeze through them, he reaches the steel push doors but not before one of Jung-ho's friends grabs him by the backpack.
"Where do you think you're going?' Jung-ho sings sarcastically. "We haven't even played our favorite game yet."
Being held back, Si-woo holds one of the push doors open with his right hand and clutches his lunchbox with the other when suddenly a force inverting his spine causes him to fly through the doors, tumbling on the gravel outside.
It's pouring now, puddles scattered like small battlegrounds while some lingering kids recorded and watched with their umbrellas as Si-woo tried picking himself up; their hushed concerns are drowned out by the oncoming storm.
How am I going to hide these from Mom? Si-woo thought, looking at the open scars on his palms now mixing with the rain.
I need to hurry and get home. Si-woo, with his lunchbox at hand, scanned the sodden landscape for a clear path home. His pulse quickened, looking behind him, his eyes landed on Jung-Ho and his posse walking toward him like a lion creeping on its prey.
"Looks like the little genius had a taste of victory today," Jung-ho mocked, His dark brown hair plastered against his face while his voice dripped with disdain.
Si-woo gripped his lunchbox tighter, a silent peace memento given by his mom. He forces himself to stand straighter, recalling his brother's words: Keep your chin up Si-woo. Always stand firm, no matter what.
"What do you want, Jung-ho?" Si-woo asked, his voice steadier than he felt.
"I think you needed to be reminded again," Jung-ho steps closer. "No matter how smart you think you are, you're still a 'ladyboy' bitch," Jung-ho spat, now standing an arm's length away with his crew, his words venomous. "And didn't I tell you to stop dyeing your hair pink?"
"It's not dy-" A staggering punch interrupts Si-woo coming out of his left peripheral view catching him on the nose. Pain instantly spread throughout his face, and he stumbles back dropping his lunch box, the metallic scent of blood mending with the rainwater streaming down his cheeks.
Jung-ho's Fists began to pour down on him harder than the rain, relentless and savage, while the other just pointed and laughed."You think you're smart?" he sneered. "You weak nerd."
Si-woo, pushed all the way back into the grass, raises his arms in defense. His breath came in short between ragged gasps. Around him, Jung-ho's friends surround him like hyenas, jeering and egging Jung-ho on.
"You honestly think you're better than us, genius?" one shouted."Make him beg," another added.
Si-woo's environment is reduced to a plethora of fists, insults, and the thunderous roar of the storm. But coming from the depths within, words surged through the surface of pain, a memory of Ye-jun-his older brother.
"Nothing stays the same Si-woo, and time makes sure of that," Ye-jun's voice echoed in his mind. " You're just not a fighter yet, but as long as time keeps ticking, you'll learn to stand tall and understand what it truly means to be strong."
With his mind focusing back on reality, Si-woo deliberately dropped his backpack on the wet grass. He straightened out, his stance defensive just like how Ye-jun taught him.
" I'm not weak," Si-woo said, his voice concrete despite the easing Pain." Just leave me alone!"
Jung-ho pauses, momentarily bewildered, his face contorted in rage. A right hook aimed at Si-woo's face misses as he ducks, the blow sailing overhead.
A counter punch connects to Jung-ho's stomach pushing him back, forcing a grunt. Around him, Jung-ho's friends quiet down and the spectators gasp as the scene unfolds before them.
"YOU MOTHERF-" Jung-ho yelled, charging again.
But Si-woo is ready. He swiveled and weaved, his movements precise and accurate. Every blow and counterstrike he landed carried the weight of his emotions, a catharsis that only felt fueled by the storm.
The trance broke when Jung-ho's friends joined the fray. Their limbs lashed out in unison, overtaking Si-woo's defenses. He fell on the muddy ground as they continued.
The weather mirrored the chaos, Lightning stretching across the sky as thunder followed on the battlefield. Si-woo's world blurred; the water mixing with the pain made for an inescapable cacophony.
Ye-jun, Si-woo repeated his brother's name in his mind, a string of hope in his suffering.
Recalling Ye-jun's steady and unwavering voice. " Strength isn't just within your muscles, Si-woo. It's in your mind and heart. Keep your eyes up, chin down, always be ready. "
With grit, Si-woo pushes his trembling body against the ground, fists clenching.
"Go away," he roared, his voice slicing through the downpour.
Conjuring up every ounce of strength he had, he rolled away free from the bully's grasp. He scrambles to his feet; his clothes tattered to his battered frame.
"Why... Why do you do this to me? " Si-woo pants, his voice holding defiance.
Jung-ho brushes in for another round, but a sudden tremor rocks the earth beneath him. The spectators began to yell and scramble about, but Jung-ho's friends stood there, their eyes wide with fear as the ground groaned and their leader stayed.
The tremor subsided, leaving a silence in its wake. Jung-ho's friends exchange nervous glances.
One of them urged. " You know about the tremors. "
Jung-ho hesitates. Anger warring with fear engraved on his face, but one look at Si-woo changed his mind after he did not see fear but only defiance staring back at him.
" I'm not running scared like a bunch of pussies!" He shouted over the storm, voice cutting through the tumult.
His friends exchange worrisome glances. " But, Jung-ho... the tremors... " one stammered, fear evident.
" Did you not hear what I said? We're not going anywhere! " Jung-ho snapped, his eyes looking for anyone to challenge him.
Si-woo, bloodied and bruised, made use of the distraction to inch away, slowly walking on the landscape. I need to get away before they decide to turn their attention back to me. In rain-soaked clothes, he tries to wipe the mud that streaked across his face.
Jung-ho's sharp gaze caught his movement. " Well, won't you look at that? He's trying to run again! "
They move in, closing the gap. But as soon as they come close, another tremor ripples through the ground more violent than the first. The earth buckles and groans beneath them forcing the boys to stumble and grab onto each other.
" Let's Go Jung-ho! This isn't normal! " one of them yelled, panic tightening his voice.
Jung-ho refused to listen, his pride like an anchor to the earth. " Do you honestly think this scares me? I'm not like you Si-woo! Plus, we've barely just begun! "
Jung-ho suddenly lunges forward with his right fist connecting with Si-woo's jaw once again, sending Si-woo into the mud. His vision explodes with lights as more pain is stacked on.
" You're not so tough now, are you?" Jung-ho taunts, his voice dripping with malice.
Before continuing the onslaught, another tremor rocked the earth, this one more fearsome than the ones before. The schoolyard seemed to come alive as the ground shuddered and threw some of his friends off their feet.
"Jung-ho, we have to go! Now!" one of his friends pleaded.
Jung-ho cast a final glare at Si-woo, who lay motionless in the mud. With one last kick, Jung-ho snarled, " Fine. But this isn't over. "
He and his crew ran home, their retreat swallowed by the storm's outrage.
Lying in the rain-soaked yard, Si-woo's body screamed in protest as he made an attempt to move. The cold rain made the attempt seem like a merciless assault.
"Mom, home... "Si-woo whispered, the words he clung to amid the agony.
He pushes himself up with trembling arms. Head swimming, his legs threaten to give out with every step he took. He picks up his backpack and lunchbox and begins walking. The schoolyard disappears behind him while trudging through the landscape to find the nearest sidewalk.
Just as he thought he could go no further, the world tilts and everything goes black.
...
Si-woo regains consciousness, he lay on his backpack with the rain barraging his face. Coughing, he tasted remains of mud and Blood. Managing to prop his body up on his elbows, his body screams in protest with every movement being a struggle against the weight of his injuries.
Home, He repeats in his mind, as he finds the resolve to keep going.
With the puddles reflecting the grey sky above, slowly he forces himself to his feet, his backpack and lunchbox causing him to sway as if the earth tremors persisted.
His clothes sticking as if it's his second skin, he stumbles forward with every step, his resolve being the only thing keeping him upright.
Finally finding a sidewalk that routes to his house, He makes out the blurred outline of his home in the distance. Seeing the broad, white metal fence through the grey haze of the storm made it seem as if it were an angel, and its wings were enclosing a sanctuary.
Si-woo reaches the gate, fumbling with the latch, his weak scarred fingers threatened to give up.
Teeth chattering, body shivering, he drags himself inside through the door, the promise of home giving him the strength to push through. He closes the door behind him, muffling the storm outside. He drops everything, Uhhh, I hope no one's home yet, these scars and bruises... I've got to hide them. Si-woo let out a ragged breath. The warmth of his home seeping into his soul, he finally lets his guard down leaning against the wall for support.
One of Ye-jun's few mechanical clock models sat on the shelf above the coat rack. The ticking of the golden model rushes him to go up the stairs and clean himself up. Si-woo stood still, listening for any sign that indicated his mother or brother. But there was silence.
Good, nobody's home yet. Gradually, he begins to climb the stairs that stretch on the left side of the wall connected to the front door. Each step brings pain as he climbs to the top. At the top, he leaned against the banister momentarily, studying himself before shuffling down the left hallway towards the bathroom.
His trembling hand reaches for the doorknob, a sharp pain comes up from his side, making him wince. Si-woo stumbled into the doorway, gripping the sink for support, his other hand fumbling with the shower knob. Soon, the noise of the running water filled the room. Closing the door, he felt a small comfort, a momentary shield against everything.
The steam rose, missing the mirror and obscuring his reflection. Si-woo took off his damp, muddy clothes, each action revealing fresh bruises and scars that ached with every move. Stepping under the shower head he gasped as the heat met his superficial injuries. Still, he refused to pull away and just stood there, letting the sting of the water keep him from ever forgetting.
The homogeneous mixture of rain, sweat, and blood swirled around at his feet before disappearing down the drain leaving red trails. Leaning against the shower wall, resting his eyelids, the rhythm of the water a steady cadence that slowed his breathing.
"I can't let them win, " he whispered, the words more for himself than anyone else.
The water soon began to turn cold. Stepping out of the shower, the chilly air hit his damp skin. Si-woo grabs a towel from the towel bar and wraps it around his waist. Opening the mirror cabinet above his sink, his fingers brushed against the contents of his mother's makeup kit, and he hesitates.
"I have to hide this, " he noted under his breath. He steals himself before grabbing the kit. The faint scent of his mother lingered on the brushes and bottles, oddly mixing with the damp air.
With make-up at hand, he limps to his room, the floorboards biting against his feet. His eyes flicked to the trophies Ye-jun obtained from martial arts, each one properly displayed, a reminder of his strength. Setting the makeup on his desk in his room, he goes to his closet and lays out a fresh set of clothes to put on.
After the painstaking process, Si-woo turned to the mirror on his desk, his reflection staring back at him: face bruised, a boy trying to mask his pain again.
He opened the makeup kit, squeezing a little foundation on his trembling hand, he dabs the dark bruises marking his face. The foundation is too light...it's really bad this time, I don't think I'll be able to hide this. Si-woo covered the worst of the damage, his eyes surrounded by dark rings that seemed to peer into his spirit, he quickly dusts them with powder.
" Just a little more, " he murmured, blotting his face with a tissue. This isn't my best work, but it's gonna have to do. Si-woo tries to smile, but it turns into a frown, the pain reminding him to forget.
Biting his nails, Si-woo takes a deep breath and makes his way downstairs.
The air is filled with the aroma of dinner, a comforting and familiar smell. Entering the living room he could see his mother through the kitchen's wide archway stirring the pot on the stove, her wispy, white hair gently swaying.
" Hey, Mom, " Si-woo says hesitantly as he walks into the kitchen, taking his fingers away from his mouth. Turning to greet him, her warm smile faltered. Her glacier-blue eyes widened as they took in the swollen face and poorly concealed bruises. The wooden spoon slips from her hand, clattering onto the floor.
"Si-woo! " she exclaimed, her voice expressing immense alarm. "What happened? Did...are they still bullying you?" She gently grazes his scars with her gentle hands. "Even after we moved?" Her tone softened.
Si-woo froze, his mind searching for an explanation. She has too much to worry about already. The lie came quickly.
" I... fell down, " he replied, the words barely audible.
The excuse is left out in the open to dry, flimsy, and transparent. His mom searches his face, her eyes beaming into his soul with concern and a quiet plea for honesty. But she knew better than to push.
" OK, my love, " she says softly turning to pick up the wooden spoon. " If that's what you want to say. "
She rinses the spoon and turns back to the stove, her movements careful as though she is afraid to shatter the fragile calm between them.
" Dinner will be ready soon, " she said, her tone compassionate and firm. " Go ahead and sit down and rest."
Si-woo nodded, shuffling to the dinner table, his body aching with every step. He watched his mother through the reflection in the kitchen window, her back to him; even so, he could sense her worry.
I can't, I... I'll just handle it myself. Si-woo thought, staring out at the rain.
Si-woo's mother sets a table in silence, her movements efficient. Now and then, her eyes darted in Si-woo's direction, the side of his beaten face is a canvas of pain she had tried, but couldn't fix.
" Are you sure you're OK, Si-woo? " Her voice broke the uneasy silence.
Si-woo nods, her words pressing heavily against him. The sounds of the TV grow slightly in ironic contrast to the tension in the room.
" Yeah, I'm fine Mom," He said, forcing a smile.
Her eyes lingered on him as she set the final plate on the table, worry clearly etched into every line of her face. Sitting across from Si-woo, her gaze never wavered as the steaming pot of Stew sat between them. "You know you can tell me anything, right, Si-woo?" she said, her voice tight and gentle.
" It's nothing, Mom, " he replied swallowing hard, his throat dry.
She slowly nodded, her expression a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. " OK, " She said in a low tone. " Just remember if you ever need me..... " Her words trailing off, leaving the rest unspoken.
Nodding once again, Si-woo felt the lump in his throat starting to harden and making it difficult to speak even if he wanted to.
The sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. Si-woo tenses as Ye-jun removes his wet school bag from above his head revealing his snow-white hair.
"Hey Mom," Ye-jun greets, walking into the kitchen. "Si-woo...what the... " Ye-jun's voice drastic with surprise, his eyes immediately locked onto his little brother's face.
Their mother turned, easing her expression of worry. She opened her mouth to speak, but only silence followed.
Stepping to take a closer look at Si-woo, Ye-jun's black pupils darken as he observes his injuries.
" Tell me, " Ye-jun demanded, " who did this? "
Si-woo hesitates; he looks between his mother and Ye-Jun. Stretching the silence he finally whispered, " Jung-ho and his friends. "
Ye-jun's fist clenched at his sides, barely being able to contain his emotions, he turns to his mom. " Mom, don't worry, I'll handle it."
Her eyes began to fill with pride that eased some of her nerves, looking at her eldest son. I know he's cool-headed and has a sense of loyalty, but...
" Just please be careful, Ye-jun, " she said softly.
Jaw locked in determination, Ye-jun gave a curt nod. He turns back to Si-woo, crouching slightly to meet his gaze.
" We've dealt with this for too long; it's time to end it," Ye-jun said, his voice sure.
"Okay," Si-woo replied with unshed tears, a combination of gratitude and a hint of dread washing over him. His shoulders felt lighter, but the thought of his brother personally getting involved twisted his stomach.
The three of them sat around the dining table, the storm being the backdrop setting to the meal. Their mom served the food, her eyes darting to Si-woo every few movements.
" Make sure to eat Si-woo, " she said, her smile forced but warm. " You both must feel famished. "
The comforting warmth of the food eased the chill in his chest. He chewed slowly no longer paying attention to the silence.
The rest of the meal passed in near silence; the clinking of the utensils and plates helped to fill the space.
"A strong man whose strength stands alone will wither out and die." Si-woo's mother starts, taking a sip from her bowl.
"But a weak man who can depend on others is bound to be fruitful." Ye-jun finishes.
A popular proverb repeated amongst the family. Their right. I can't do this alone.
" Thank you, Mom, " Si-woo says as he excuses himself from the table.
" Have you had enough to eat?" his mother asks.
" Yeah, I'm just tired, " Si-woo says as he takes a final glance at his mom and brother who is on his third serving.
"Okay, don't forget to pray, and wash your face," his mother yells as he walks away.
Si-woo climbed the stairs, each step feeling like an uphill battle. The wooden banister dug into his hand as he leaned heavily on it. The soft glow of his bedroom light at the end of the hallway never seemed so far away. Let's go clean up first.
After washing the makeup off and brushing his teeth, he makes his way to his room, the dim light from his nightstand casts comforting shadows on the walls, a welcoming sight.
He collapsed into his bed, the mattress groaning under his weight. For a moment he just lay there, staring at the ceiling while the rain tapped against his window. The sound is like a lullaby pulling him into a brief sense of peace. Let's read something, he sat up reaching for a book on his nightstand.
He began to read, his mind fading from the outside world, the steady rhythm of the rain outside matching the beating of his heart.
"Thank you, Lord, for everything." Si-woo prays. Before long, his eyes grew heavy as he could no longer read, and the words on the pages blurred together. The book slid from his hands as he's claimed by sleep. Everything fades to the background.
The scent of brewed coffee traveled through the air as Ha-yoon's mother set the table. Her short peach-colored hair and maple-brown eyes seemed to add life to the kitchen. Ha-yoon shuffled into the kitchen still in her pajamas, her hair a wild mess. Something feels off today. She glances out the window, a grey mist shrouding the skies. I don't know, maybe it's just the weather.
Her mom hands her a hot mug of hot cocoa, her face showing concern. "You ok sweetie? You look a bit... pale."
Ha-yoon nodded, wrapping her small hands around the mug, absorbing the warmth. "Just a weird feeling," she murmured.
Her eyes lingered on Ha-yoon, maternal intuition carved into her expression. She knows something's amiss, but she didn't press.
"Do you want to stay home today? "Her mother asked, her voice soft.
Ha-yoon shook her head. "No, maybe it's the weather today, I guess."
Her mother nodded reluctantly, reaching out to push the strand of hair from Ha-yoon's face before going back to preparing breakfast.
A door in the house creaked open, and Ha-yoon's father entered the kitchen, his doctor's coat already on him. His disheveled blond hair and grey eyes with dark circles under them held proof of another long night at the hospital.
"I'm off, "He said leaning down to kiss his wife and child on the cheek.
Nodding, their eyes followed him as he grabbed his umbrella and stepped out into the moist morning, the door clicking behind him.
Ha-yoon's mother sighed, her hands temporarily still as her eyes lay pinned on the spot where her husband had stood. Ha-yoon notices the faint worry lines in her mother's face.
"I'll be fine Mom," Ha-yoon said, "Promise."
Her mother offers a smile, pours a bowl of porridge, and places it in front of Ha-yoon. "Eat up."
Ha-yon ate quickly, the food easing the discomfort gnawing at her. Finishing with a grateful nod, she bolts upstairs, her feet slapping against the cold wooden floor.
Her room, a chaotic mess with discarded clothes and textbooks scattered haphazardly across her desk. Mmmm, do I have a clean uniform? Scanning the clutter to wear something that wouldn't add to her frizzled state, her eyes landed on her uniform, the crisp lines giving a sense of normalcy.
Rain began to fall as she got dressed. I need to hurry, her heart racing, she buttoned her shirt."I have to go," she whispered to herself, tying her hair into a ponytail.
With the snap of the elastic band, she grabs her backpack and umbrella then hurries downstairs. She pauses at the door, her hand hovering over the handle.
"Remember, Ha-yoon," her mother called from the kitchen. "If you ever need to come home, don't hesitate."
Ha-yoon glances back, "I will Mom." Ha-yoon hollers back.
The door opens, and the air kisses Ha-yoon's cheeks as she unfolds her umbrella stepping into the grey morning.
The early morning light filtered through the curtains and cast a dim glow across Si-woo's room. His mother sat at the edge of his bed, with an ice pack in her left hand and her right hand resting lightly on his forehead. The expression on her face showed concern and quiet determination.
"You're not going to school today, Si-woo," she said softly. "You're not well."
Si-woo shuffles beneath his blankets, his voice weak. " But... Ye-jun..."
Her gaze is steady and thorough, her tone carries a mother's gentle resolve. "Ye-jun can handle himself. You need to rest."
Si-woo's protest died in his exhausted throat. He nods faintly, watching his mother tuck him in.
"I'm staying home today, so I'll be here if you need me." Si-woo's mother reassures, giving a compassionate look before leaving the room.
The House held the faint sounds of Ye-jun getting ready for school. With the shower running, Si-woo closes his eyes, the sounds fading into a comforting lull.
Ye-jun emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist, he walks down to Si-woo's slightly ajar door. He peeks in.
"You ok Si-woo?" Ye-jun whispered.
Turned away from him, his voice barely audible. "Yeah... just tired."
"I'm sorry, Ye-Jun," Si-woo murmured, "I really wanted to go today."
"Don't say that," Ye-jun says, stepping into his room. It's not your fault that you're sick."
Crossing the floor, Ye-jun sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress slightly dipped under his weight, A small motion that grounded the conversation between the two.
"You won't have to deal with this anymore," Ye-jun said, looking at the back of Si-woo's head. "I'll talk to the teachers, principal, anyone who listens."
Si-woo nodded faintly, his voice barely a whisper. "Just don't fight them. Please."
Ye-jun's jaw tightened, and he briefly clenched his fists. But he exhaled slowly, nodding and understanding. "I'll be careful."
The room fell into a silence; only the rhythmic pattern of the rain hitting the window filled the room. Ye-jun put his hand on Si-woo's Shoulder for a moment before turning to walk out the door. The click of the shutting door left Si-woo alone once more but feeling more reassured.
Lying face up on the pillows, Si-woo stared at the ceiling, his mind blank, occasionally thinking about the events of yesterday.
...
The soft click of the door gently tucked him awake. The scent of homemade soup his mother held drifted through his room, making his stomach growl.
"Lunch is ready, Si-woo," She said gently, holding a tray with steaming soup and a glass of water.
Every movement felt like a protest against his body as Si-woo sat up."Thank you Mom. he says as he accepts the tray.
She sets the tray on the bedside table. Her gaze lingers on him, eyes a mix of love and sorrow.
"Rest easy my love," she said softly and kisses his cheek. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
Si-woo nods, with a pat on his back. Si-woo's mother left, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Tasting the vegetable soup, the warmth spread through him like a soothing balm. Mom always makes the best soups; the blend of flavors is both comforting and bittersweet.
Si-woo reached for the TV remote that lay on his bedside table and flicked on the TV in the corner of his room. The muted broadcast flashes images of the city.
"What the..."Si-woo says with concern. His stomach turned as he saw scenes that filled the screen: streets flooded, people scrambling for safety, and reporters speaking of the tremors.
Unmuting the TV, Si-woo brings himself to the chilling reality of the reporters' voices.
"...THESE UNEXPLAINED EARTHQUAKES HAVE NOT ONLY BEEN REPORTED FROM ACROSS THE COUNTRY BUT ACROSS THE WHOLE WORLD WITH NO SIGNS OF LETTING UP. IT'S ONLY GETTING WORSE, EVEN SCIENTISTS CAN'T EXPLAIN AND ARE BAFFLED BY THE SUDDEN SURFACING OF ARCHEOLOGICAL STRUCT-"
Si-woo stared at the images flashing on the screen. From all over the world, busted streets, toppled buildings replaced by new unfamiliar ones, and panicked crowds flickered on the television. The spoon in his hand trembled in his clasp and slipped onto the floor.
"What's happening?" he mutters, his voice drowning in the tension.
The room jolts violently; the floor shakes beneath him. The walls looked as if they were pulsing in tune with his heart. The TV falls to the ground displaying an emergency broadcast to find cover.
"Moooom!"Si-woo shouted, clutching the bed frame that threatened to give out.
Si-woo's mom bursts into the room, her face drained and drawn with fear. "Hold on Si-woo! It's an Earthquake!"
The house aches and groans, the structure straining against the earth's fury. The floor buckles beneath him like a deck on a storm-tossed ship, throwing his mom towards the door. Si-woo is now on the ground, grips the crooked bed frame, his eyes wide, as glass begins to shatter around him.
"Si-woo!" his mother screamed as the floor tilted sharply, sliding her to the edge of the doorway.
Si-woo launched himself, his hand letting go of the bread frame grasping hers. Just then, a faint unearthly turquoise glow filled the room. The distant light streamed through the broken window, seemingly pulsing in rhythm with the earth's convulsions. Outside, a monstrous roar is heard rising above the chaos.
"What was that?" Si-woo choked out, in his mother's grasp.
"I don't know," she replied, her light blue eyes locked onto the broken window, her grip unyielding. "We need to get to the basement. Now!" she urges.
The outside hallway is almost unrecognizable. The walls sway and crack, throwing dust into the air. Lights flicker overhead, the bulbs swinging, casting strange shadows. Breathing heavily, Si-woo and his mom stumble forward navigating through the mess to the stairs.
Holding Si-woo's hand, his mother pulls him down the stairs, each step a battle against gravity and fear. The living room came into view, the view now transformed into a war zone. Furniture lay overturned, broken glass shone like jagged stars across the floor as the turquoise light from the outside cast glades upon them.
Noise from the outside grew louder as the muffled screams and collision of vehicles brought life to the air.
Si-woo's hand slips from his mother's as she stumbles, her foot catching a splinter in a plank of wood. Si-woo's heart lurched, he lunged to grab her but the tremors yanked her further away.
"Mom!" he screamed; his voice weak from sickness and exhaustion.
The floor cracked beneath them, separating them by a yawning chasm that threatened to swallow everything in its path. Si-woo's mother slid to the edge, her hands scrabbling to grab anything, terror filling her eyes.
Si-woo's hand found the banister, his hands turning white, he strains to grasp his mothers to pull her back. "Hold on!" he desperately shouted.
She managed to grab onto the edge of the splintered floor, her head reaching for his. "I got you!" she cried.
The chasm widened as if mocking their desperation. A thunderous crack split the air as a beam from the ceiling crashed down, with jagged edges promising death.
Time seemed to freeze as a burst of adrenaline and resolve came from Si-woo's mom as she flung herself in front of her son, diverting the beam.
"Noooo! " Si-woo screamed, his voice hoarse.
The beam struck with devastating force; the sound of snapping bones pierced the air like a gunshot. Her body convulsed as the impact drove her to the ground. In her eyes, only pain and love remained as she cupped Si-woo's face with trembling fingers.
"I... love you," she whispers, her snowy white hair draping over him, and in an instant, her hand fell limp, the beautiful blue light completely fading from her eyes as her body slumped against him.
Si-woo's world narrowed to an inconceivable point as his mother lay lifeless on him.
"No, no, no...Mom, wake up,"
Si-woo tries to shuffle himself from under her.
"Mom! MOOOOOMMMM!" Si-woo's scream tore through the chaos, bare and unrelenting as he held her impaled body. The house tremored violently around him, heaving as if to swallow him whole.
Si-woo didn't move, his body rooted to his mother's sacrifice.
I need to hide! Ha-yoon pants, stumbling into the bathroom, the aftershocks shaking her body. She steadies herself by grabbing onto a sink.
The overhead lights flicked sporadically, casting protruding shadows from the open stall doors and broken tiles. Ha-yoon stares at her reflection, her peach-yellow hair plastered to her forehead and eyes that held terror that made her look far older than six years.
The earth groaned, screams and running footsteps were heard from the outside walls. The walls crackled and buckled under strain with water splashing out of the sinks, the basins coming loose.
Ha-yoon's face now wet, her eyes darted to the warped bathroom door. She gulps and crouches down, hugging her knees to her chest in the smallest place possible. Sitting on the cold, wet tile, the air grew thick with dust and overpowered the usual smell of bleach and soap. It hurts, my ears... tears welling up, Ha-yoon put her trembling hands tightly over her ears, blocking out the deafening and terrifying sounds from the outside. Squeezing her eyes shut, tears rolled down her cheeks.
Ha-yoon, in almost paralyzed panic, her mother's prayer fell from her lips in a soft whisper. "Please, keep me safe... keep us all safe..."
The bathroom flashed between light and dark, the mirrors above the sinks rattled and cracked with each tremor until every reflection was warped and unrecognizable.
Then, with a loud crash, the bathroom door burst open. "Ahhhh!" Ha-yoon shrieks in fear. But through the noise, she hears a familiar female voice, her English teacher.
"Anyone here! " She called; her voice tinged with anxiety. Her eyes locked onto Ha-yoon, who sat curled up against a wall like a puppy in a pound. " Get under the sink! "
Ha-yoon gave a little nod, her legs wobbling as she stumbled to the nearest sink, her movements clumsy with terror. The teacher guided her to a crouched position her hands shaking but gentle, she aided Ha-yoon into a protective ball.
" You're doing so well, " she whispered, her voice shaking as the ground grumbled.
Ha-yoon began to tear up, her hand wrapping around the teacher's shin, giving her hope. The air gave a sharp taste of plaster dust and sounds of high-pitched shrieks of bending metal.
"Aihhhh," Ha-yoon cries as the mirror shatters above them, adding more glass shards to the busted tile floor. Ha-yoon covered her head to protect herself, but the English teacher is already over her, using her body to shield Ha-yoon from the worst of it.
"We're gonna be okay, we're gonna be-" the teacher repeated while rubbing Ha-yoon's back. The school groaned like a wounded beast, and in the distance, the crashes of collapsing walls echoed through the chaos. Is it coming closer? Ha-yoon's heart raced anticipating more destruction.
With a deafening snap, the wall to the left of them gave way. Bricks and mortar cascaded into the bathroom like an avalanche, dragging the English teacher with it. Ha-yoon gasped her hands reaching toward the teacher, but the teacher's body disappeared beneath the rubble.
"TEACHERRR!" Ha-yoon screams, the noise drowning out her voice.
The teacher's hand reaches out from the debris, trembling, grasping for something, anything. But the rubble did not stop and pressed down on her body relentlessly, muffling her screams and ending it altogether. Ha-yoon watches as the teacher's hand stilled and fell limp.
Dust coated everything and choked the air, turning everything into a haze of gray. Ha-yoon coughed violently, her frame racking with heaving sobs. The bathroom turned into a tomb of unrecognizable tiles, broken glass, and lost promises.
The noise dying down, Ha-yoon found the strength to crawl. I wanna go home, Ha-yoon cried inside. Each movement brought pain, knees scraping against the jagged debris she made her way out from the looming wreckage and to where the bathroom door once was.
Breathing heavily, Ha-yoon stared at the once orderly corridors, now ruthless and turned into ruins. The walls are caved in and lockers twisted in grotesque shapes, books, papers, and mangled people spread across the ground.
The screams of the trapped and injured echo throughout the rubble. Their cries leave a sonnet of despair that Ha-yoon's weakened ears muffled out. I need to keep going, gasping for air, her movements driven by sheer instinct.
The tremors began to surge again, the ground heaping and shifting like a breathing creature. She crawled toward a pile of rubble hoping that it would bring safety, but the earthquake made every crawl feel like a mile.
Ha-yoon's strength gave out. Her limbs refused to cooperate. The world tilted, chaos fading into a muffled home. Darkness crept on the edges of her sight; her thoughts became a whisper. Mom...Dad?
With a shallow gasp, she slumped forward, the ruins swallowing her into the void.
The house comes to a halt, convulsions dying away like a venomous whisper. The dust clears up, revealing the devastating scene. "Mom.." Si-woo cries, choking back tears. Her body lay still, the beam still in her, a reminder of her struggle.
"Please, Mom.." Si-woo cries, His hand reaching out to touch her near-cold cheek. The world stands still, the earthquake a distant memory. His chest tightens, I can't give up. I have to find Ye-jun.
Trapped under rubble, Si-woo screams. He pushes against the weight of the earth, his small, sickly body struggling to move the rocks. Shifting brought waves of pain to his bruised ribs, "Come onnnn, let me goooo!" He screams.
The earth had gone quiet; the once cacophonous mixture of sounds now lay a mournful silence. Only cries of distant townspeople and occasional rumbling are heard. He worked tirelessly, My hands can't take much more of this; hishands are slick with blood and grime. The warmth from his mother's body continued to fade, each second adding another needle to his heart.
"Euuughh," Si-woo let out with a final heave. He managed to free himself from the debris, his body bruised and battered. Looking around the destroyed living room, he took a shallow breath, the dust stinging his nose and throat, he began to crawl out of the rubble. Si-woo gritted his teeth, each movement bringing waves of pain, but he pushed on.
The house is a wreck as he crawls through, the walls and furniture ruined and twisted, now unidentifiable. His body coursed with fear and adrenaline as he stumbles through the wreckage. I have to find Yi-Jun, I have to know if he's safe. I-I cannot lose anyone else.
The air outside is a hazy gray with hints of brown. The once bustling streets of Seoul are now broken up with telephone poles, debris from shops, skyscrapers, garbage, and other rubble lying about. Si-woo forces his legs to move, every step feeling like a betrayal to his mother's sacrifice. Whimpers of people and animals stretched through the air, but Si-woo kept going.
Biting his nails, Si-woo's eyes searched the horizon, looking for any signs leading to the middle school Ye-jun went to. Walking, Si-woo comes across his school, now a jagged skeleton of twisted metal and concrete. The playground is a crater of swings hanging limply like the wings of a wounded bird. I've got to keep going.
...
The middle school where Si-woo and his mom watched his brother compete in martial arts has become a mess. The image brought only pain. "You have to be here," he whispers. He stumbles through the large, brown pavement rocks and greenery, his body navigating the maze to the front of the middle school.
Almost there, overstimulated by the chaos, Si-woo's knees buckled. "EUUGHHH," a bloodcurdling cry ripped from his throat, raw and crude, echoing through the desolate terrain. The scream of pain, loss, and fear for his brother. He dropped to the ground, his body fatigued and weak. The world spun around him as his palms gripped the harsh gravel.
The spinning stops as if the earth is holding its breath in mourning. The air held dust particles that hung in the air like suspended memories of what's been lost. Si-woo remains on his knees, his chest heaving with sobs and his body trembling under the weight of grief. Then a flicker of movement caught his eye- A figure in the distance, fluttering and limping from the wreckage of the school. His breath hitched.
"Ye-jun?" Si-woo utters skeptically. His voice breaks as he stumbles forward, desperation pulling him like a magnet.
Squinting, Si-woo see's the figure moving more frantically trying to escape the maze. "YE-JUN?" Si-woo calls out. The figure stops for a brief moment. "SI-WOO?" the figure yells back.
With renewed strength, Si-woo stammers upwards the ruined stairway leading to the front of the school. Dust bellows below him like a cloud of sorrow. He never took his tear-filled eyes off his fragile beacon of hope.
"IS THAT YOU SI-WOO?" the figure yelled. Abruptly, the air shifted. A surge rippled through, raising the rubble and the hairs on Si-woo's arms. The stairs beneath his feet began to vibrate, gently at first but then crescendoed into a bold rhythmic pulse. Si-woo's steps falter as he is traumatized and horrified anticipating another earthquake.
But then a turquoise light, the turquoise light cleared the dust in a brief storm, revealing Ye-jun's sore, scared face. He locked eyes with Si-woo, "IM COMING SI-WOO, STAY RIGH-" The light enveloped the school, coming from what looked like a wrinkle in space, starting to pull in debris and everything with it. "YE-JUN!!" Si-woo screamed.
The light spread quickly, distorting Ye-jun's wounded body into the rupture. Run, run, RUN, Si-woo broke into a sprint, his legs pumping with every last ounce of strength he had left. He couldn't look away as his brother began to be consumed by the otherworldly glow.
Tears stream down Yejun's face, "Si-woo..." his brother's voice is faint, muffled, but certain.
"NOOOO!" Si-woo reaches out, his arm extending as if he could bridge the distance. The rupture consumed Ye-Jun entirely, inch by inch, until he disappeared into the aether. The pulsing ceased, dropping all the debris and remains of what wasn't pulled into the glow. The school is eerily undisturbed as though Ye-jun wasn't just there.
Si-woo collapsed, his knees digging into the edges of the stairs, "No... no... no," he chanted, the words hardly audible through his rough cries. I can't take this anymore. Huffing and puffing, his sobs tore through the silence. Please help me, anyone...someone. His fingers stretch towards where Ye-jun once was, yearning for his return.
...
Staggering to his feet he began to walk home. Every step felt as if he had never walked before. The tears that dried out his eyes developed dark rings under them. His mind is blank, detached, while walking mindlessly through the hell the earthquake left behind. The streets of Seoul are now as silent as ever; the scent of metal and death haunts the air.
He reaches the convenience store he has passed countless times; it's now barely standing and reduced to twisted metal and shattered glass. Walking into the almost roofless store, the shelves that held snacks and drinks are nothing but mangled waste now.
I need something, anything to help me with this acrid air. Si-woo's hand sifted through the debris, his fingers brushing against something soft.
"EH!" Si-woo jerks back startled, cutting himself below the eye. The pain goes unnoticed as he realizes he just touched the hand of the store owner, Ju-Won. Too emotionally drained, Si-woo just stared at him.
Coughing, his gaze lands on a discarded pack of masks in the rubble. He opens it and puts it on in hopes it'll help him breathe better, but it feels like the opposite. He puts the other in his pocket, and before turning to leave, he grabs a spade shovel lying about. Trudging out of the store and onto the desolate streets of the ghost town, but what is left of his home stops him cold. My home, nothing is even in the right place anymore. Even the front yard, is this the same place me and Ye-jun used to throw snowballs at each other? The house stood like a shadow of its former self, walls gutted and crumbling.
Pulling down his mask just enough to bite his nails, he stepped over the cluttered threshold, dragging the shovel beside him. The dust swirled around him like a malevolent specter. Coming inside the ruins of his house he is met with a sight that awaits him, pressing down on his heart. His mother's lifeless, cold body is motionless on the floor, the beam that impaled her still in its place. Blood congealed around the body in a grotesque pattern.
Dropping the shovel, he sank to his knees beside her, everything losing all meaning. His fingers trembling, he reaches to touch his mom's cold and pale cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. The urge within him to rip off his mask, scream, and breathe freely grew, but the mask stayed on. It's a feeble safeguard against horrors outside and now the horrors within.
He stood up again. His legs wobbled under him as he grabbed the shovel, went to the front of the house, and began to dig. Time passed as he worked under the dim light of the setting sun digging her grave in front of the house yard, where little to no rubble was. When finished dragging out her body, leaving a blood trail behind, he buries her and places a small hand-carved cross he found lying about in the rubble as the tombstone. "Through thick and thin, Good and bad, Busy and lax; I am yours Lord, and you are mine." He whispers a prayer his Mom taught him during rough times.
Done, he sits on a large rock. What am I going to do now? Where are the others? Si-woo's mind slowly starts coming back to reality, pinpointing his needs and wants. I need to treat this soon, Si-woo thought, feeling the slight throbs from the wound below his eye. Then something from the corner of his eye catches his attention, a small figure darts behind a pile of rubbish beside a stump.
Si-woo's heart raced. A little girl? She peeked out from her hiding place. Her light, peach-yellow hair, corroded with dust and her big gray eyes met his with a mix of curiosity and fear. What is she doing? Spying on me? Her small frame is conspicuous in the barren wasteland.
Should I go to her...No, that'll probably scare her away. Si-woo stayed still. I guess I'll just wait it out, let her come if she wants to. The girl's presence is a stark contrast to the desolation around, A luminescent spark of life in his blacked-out World.
"Ugggh," Ha-yoon groans, sitting up, her body sore. She finds herself in a sea of dust and debris. How long was I asleep for? The air, thick with waste, held no more screams of the injured and trapped. Blinking, she tries to clear the dust from her eyes and take in her surroundings.
Everything's gone. She takes a deep breath. Just holes in the walls and ceilings leading to the outside.
"Ouch!" Ha-yoon lets out as a piece of glass caught in her hair scrapes the back of her neck. With shaking hands, she reaches for the shards. Every piece she removes feels like a layer of terror being peeled away. Looking again at the twisted jungle of rubble that had once been her school, she takes a deep breath, tasting the grit in the air, and pushes herself to her feet, dusting excess dirt from her uniform skirt. Mom and Dad are probably looking for me... I need to go.
Legs weak and unsteady, she staggers through the debris. Every sight of a dead body presses down on her, reminding her of her teacher's sacrifice. The dust, sweat, and fear cling to her like a second skin as she emerges from the ruins of New Dawn. Home. I need to go home. Coughing, the dust fills her lungs with a choking embrace.
She makes her way through the hallways, the air thick with a foul cocktail of dust and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. She covers her mouth with her shirt, trying to offset the particles she breathes in. Her eyes hurt as she squints against the crud, trying to make out a path through the destruction.
The school's facade is now a gaping maw. Twisted metal protrudes from the walls, with crumbling bricks holding what little structure they have left. She steps over mangled lockers, desks, and people. Her heart is heavy with the unspoken goodbyes to her teachers and classmates. Oh my goodness... even the bell tower? She glances at the tower, now like a broken finger pointing to the sky. Ha-yoon emerges from a desolate playground, the distorted swings hanging motionless, culminating in the lonesome atmosphere.
Am I even going the right way? Almost nothing looks the same anymore. Ha-yoon sighs. The street she had once played on is now a labyrinth of destruction. The uprooted trees and their branches reach out like the arms of lost souls trapped beneath them. I'm almost there. Home. Then Mom and I can go look for Dad... or maybe he's already there and they're looking for me. A lingering undertone of dread gnawed at her stomach like poison.
"Mom! Dad!" she hollers, her voice rough and desperate. Dirt and dust stick to the back of her throat, every word clashing with the silence. She tries a few more times, each yell growing weaker, hope dwindling in the late afternoon sun. The world blurs around her, but she can't let it cloud her mind. I have to find them. I have to know if they are okay.
Walking through the neighborhood maze, the houses she used to know are now unrecognizable. The neighboring houses' walls are crumbled, their roofs collapsed, the lives within buried under the earth.
And then she sees it, her house, or what's left of it. With blank devastation in her eyes, she stares at the caved-in walls, the roof a pile of shattered tiles and splintered wood. The ground where the door once was is now blocked by a mountain of debris, no way of getting in or out.
"NO, NO, NO!" she cries in hollow breaths, walking to the front of the wreckage. She doubles over, her knees buckling beneath her.
"MOM... DAD!" Her voice cracks as she calls out to her family, the sobs echoing through the desolate streets, but no one responds.
...
The air grows colder as she walks aimlessly through her lost city. Where am I even going? What am I doing? Ah, right... I should clean my scars.
Dad would yell at me if he knew... She chokes back tears, the skin around her eyes rough and rigid from drying them. Shadows grow long and eerie, playing tricks on the eyes.
Amidst the chaos, a flicker of movement is caught in the corner of her eye. What was that? Ha-yoon quickly turns to see a figure trudging through the debris in the distance. Squinting through the dust, her heart skips a beat as she recognizes the familiar array of hair, the pink now a dirty tint. It's her... from school.
She's wearing a dirty T-shirt with plain blue shorts, which do little to cover her wounds. Where is she going? With a spark of hope, Ha-yoon begins to follow her.
The store. I can't believe it's still somewhat standing. Ha-yoon observes the convenience store and the sign that's more than halfway buried in the almost unrecognizable parking lot, only showing the letters "EMAR."
Ha-yoon watches as the girl goes inside. What is she doing in there? Doesn't she know that place could go down at any second? Is she stupid? Ha-yoon hides behind rubble with bated breath.
"EHHH!" A muffled scream comes from within the convenience store. Ha-yoon starts uncontrollably shaking. WHAT HAPPENED? IS SHE OKAY? ...Should I go—?
She is then reminded of how she could have helped her on the playground. But I... I can't do anything. I lost everything. Min-joo, Mom, Dad...
"Ha-yoon, honey," the voice of her dad begins. "I know my days are long, but when it comes to saving lives, you must never hesitate."
Ha-yoon recalls her father's voice, briefly steeling herself.
Immediately, the girl emerges with a mask on and a shovel in hand. She's okay! Ha-yoon squints as a crimson stain on the girl's mask catches her eye, a blunt contrast to the dust that cakes the rest of her clothes. Oh no, she's hurt.
Concern and guilt etch Ha-yoon's face as she sees the blood seeping through and trailing down the mask onto the fabric of her shirt.
Resolved, Ha-yoon waits until the girl is almost out of sight before venturing into the wreckage. There has to be one in here.
The air is thick with the scent of devastation. The shelves look like fallen dominoes, and the floor is a minefield of shattered glass and goods scattered about. Like the grace of a cat, she navigates through the store, her eyes searching for any sign.
"Finally," she whispers in relief. She spots one peeking out from under a pile of rubble, she tugs it free. The plastic case has a crack in it, but the contents are intact.
"A first aid kit. This will do," she says, easing her nerves.
Kit in hand, she takes off after the girl. Following the sound of metal dragging against gravel, she is soon able to catch up. She looks in an even worse state than me. Is she dragging the shovel because she doesn't care or because she's unable to fully lift it?
Ha-yoon's heart races, adrenaline coursing through her with every step she takes toward the girl.
...
Is this her home? Ha-yoon thought. Some of the walls and windows are still intact, unlike everything else here. Lingering outside behind an uprooted tree stump near the destroyed gate, she watches as the girl goes inside, dragging the shovel through the front opening of the house. Should I go in too? What is she planning to do with the shovel?
When the mystery girl emerges, she begins to dig in a good patch of grass a few feet away from the house. She's... digging a hole? With a mask on? She looks like she's about to fall over though.
After what felt like an eternity, Ha-yoon watches as the girl goes back into the house, reemerging with something dragging behind her. What is th—OH MY GOODNESS, IT'S A BODY!! Ha-yoon screams inside. Her stomach lurches as she bites back a scream. She ducks behind the tree stump, her eyes glued to the scene unfolding before her. The pink-haired girl drops the body into the shallow depression in the ground, leaving a thud that seems to echo through the desert town.
No... I hope that isn't her mom, Ha-yoon wishes, hearing the girl's muffled whines and cries through her mask, the raw pain evident in the convulsions of every shovel of dirt thrown down over the hole.
There's movement from the corner of Si-woo's eye. The little girl approaches him tentatively with what seems like a first aid kit in her tiny hands. He watches as she kneels beside him, her eyes darting from his injury to the medical supplies and back again. The movements are precise and focused.
"You shouldn't leave a wound like that uncovered," she says, her voice small but firm. "It'll get infected."
Too exhausted, Si-woo nods. She's going to treat it? Right now? She can't be more than six years old though. Si-woo witnesses a spark of humanity that hasn't abandoned the world.
"My dad says—" she hesitates, swallowing the lump in her throat. "He taught me it's important to clean wounds quickly. Otherwise, they get infected." She tears open a pack of antiseptic wipes.
Her family must be gone too, Si-woo thinks, wearily nodding, his eyes looking toward his mother's grave. He watches as she carefully dabs the gash on his cheek, her hands steady despite their tremble.
Ouch, Si-woo winces. This stings a bit, but at least I'm still able to feel something. But what are we supposed to do? Save the people trapped under the debris? I can't even hear their cries anymore.
"My name is Ha-yoon," she says, her voice barely audible over the whisper of the evening breeze. "What's yours?"
Si-woo takes a deep breath, removing his mask. "I'm Si-woo," he murmurs, his voice bare from screaming and crying.
She gasps, her eyes widening as she takes in the face from school.
"YOU'RE A BOY?" she exclaims, her voice filled with a mix of surprise.
"Yeah... Don't feel bad though. People often mistake me for a girl." He manages a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, despite a small wound in his heart opening.
Ha-yoon briefly hesitates before continuing to treat him. "It's definitely your pink hair. Your pink hair makes you look like a girl. Do you know that?" she says, her eyes glancing up from her task to meet his.
Si-woo can't help but laugh despite the pain. "Very funny," he says, his voice rough.
"I wasn't trying to be funny," she protests. "Why don't you just dye your hair back to its original color?"
He sighs. "I was born with this hair," he says.
"Can you please hurry? I'm getting tired and—"
"Don't rush me," Ha-yoon says, interrupting him. "I'm almost done."
"You're lucky," Ha-yoon says, her voice shaky. "If the wound had been just a few centimeters higher, we would've had bigger issues. But it isn't too deep though," she adds in an optimistic tone. "You still need to keep it clean though."
Si-woo nods again, the sunset on his face casting a warmth that feels like it will last forever. He takes a deep breath of the dusty air. Bitter, but the mask was starting to feel a bit suffocating.
After a few moments, she applies the band-aid with a soft pat. "There," she says, her voice gentle. "It'll be okay."
Si-woo glances at her disheveled face and swollen, red-rimmed eyes, eyes that are like his. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.
Ha-yoon nods, her soft gray eyes glistening with unshed tears. They sit in silence for a few minutes, taking in the situation around them.
Putting the mask in his pocket, Si-woo finally speaks up. "Where are your parents? I could bury them too, if you want me to."
Tears well in Ha-yoon's eyes as she whispers, "They're already buried." The words stain the air, leaving a mournful silence.
Si-woo's heart aches, feeling her pain and loss. Standing up, he says, "My mom used to say, 'God created us so we could be brothers and sisters to each other.'" He offers the words, trying to console her. "We don't have anyone else but each other right now. It's gonna be my job as big brother to take care of us now."
"Huh?" Ha-yoon whispers, lost.
"I don't know," she murmurs. "It's just..." Her voice trails off as she chokes back a sob.
Si-woo reaches out and pats her head. "It's okay. I get it," he says, his voice gentle. "We're all we've got now, until we find others for help."
They sit in silence for a while longer, the sounds of the dying town the only thing breaking the quiet. Si-woo speaks up. "We should get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow."
Ha-yoon nods, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "But... where will we go?" she asks, her voice trembling. "Everything's gone. I have nowhere left to go."
He turns to face her, the house behind him. "There are still parts of my house that look fine for us to sleep in. I'll sleep in my room," Si-woo says.
"You can have my older brother's room. I think the supporting walls below his room have barely moved."
"NO," Ha-yoon says instantly.
"Huh?" he asks, but Ha-yoon doesn't respond.
"Well... my mom's room is completely blocked, but my brother's bed is big enough for the both of us, if you want to share a room."
Ha-yoon's eyes stay pinned to the ground, not acknowledging Si-woo's words. Understanding her silence, Si-woo takes it as agreement.
"Okay," he says. "Let's go. We'll take care of our personal business, and then we can get some rest." He begins walking back toward his house.
The house is eerie in its stillness. Upon walking through the front, the ruined stairway can be seen, leading to the slanted second floor. At the base of the stairs, to the right, is the open chasm that Si-woo's mother leaped over to save him, the metal beam still stretching from upstairs to the first floor, pointing to the dried-up blood trail. The yawning chasm blocks the rest of the hallway leading to his mother's room. Still, despite the floor being sunk deep into the ground, there is a narrow walkable area leading to the concave archway of the living room, revealing the horrid state of the kitchen.
"Be careful," Si-woo instructs, leading Ha-yoon up the fractured staircase. This is very dangerous, Ha-yoon thinks, but keeps it to herself.
"Upstairs doesn't look as bad as downstairs," Si-woo says, heading to the right of the marred hallway leading to Ye-jun's room. "But we still need to be careful."
Ha-yoon follows close behind, matching every first step he takes.
"Okay," she responds in her soft tone.
"You can sleep here," he says, moving the almost unhinged door to the side. "It's still somewhat intact."
The room reveals a filthy, uneven ground covered in scraps, garbage, and other debris. The queen-sized bed, speckled with dust and rubble, lies by the intact window. The orange light from the sunset shines through the window and the gaping hole in the roof, revealing the sky and giving the room a faint glimmer.
Ha-yoon steps inside. This isn't so bad; her eyes take in the room that will be her temporary shelter. The floor is littered with shards of glass and plaster. She sets the med kit down next to the bed.
"We're going to have to clean up a little," she says, moving half of a roof tile with her foot.
"A door down from here is the old closet where we used to store cleaning supplies," Si-woo gestures. "It looks like we can grab some brooms and stuff without fully going in."
Si-woo walks back toward the doorway. "But first, follow me. I think in the kitchen, we still have some water bottles we can use."
They walk back out to the hallway toward the stairs, avoiding the protrusions and gaps in the ground.
"Down the hallway," Si-woo points, "is the bathroom. It doesn't look so bad to go in, but I wouldn't go further down."
Ha-yoon squints farther down. Those walls look awful. I'm sure if I just leaned on one, it would crash down on me.
They move to the kitchen. The fridge lies on its side, powerless and empty. Si-woo grabs a few bottles of water and turns to Ha-yoon.
"Let's clean ourselves," he says, handing two water bottles to her. "Are you hungry?"
Ha-yoon takes the bottles.
"No," she replies, her voice weary.
"Yeah, me neither... but we have some bread and peanut butter in the refrigerator if you do get hungry. Just let me know, I'll make you some."
Si-woo stands to look at her, his sister now, tired and drawn. His heart fills with a new, profound responsibility.
"But the food in there won't last long. We're going to need to go look for some tomorrow."
He leads her to the bathroom, where the once-functional faucet now hangs sadly from the wall, the water no longer flowing. The edge of the oval bathtub is cracked and broken, but the inside base, including the drain, still looks good enough to step in. The rest of the bathroom floor is covered in shattered glass, broken items, and garbage. The toilet is slanted into the ground, depicting an unstable foundation. All the glass on the mirror is broken, but a large enough shard remains to reflect their faces.
"How are we gonna use the bathroom?" Ha-yoon inquires, staring at the almost-overturned toilet.
"Hmm?" Si-woo contemplates, biting his nails. "Well, we can pee anywhere outside. But we'll just have to go somewhere vacant for our number twos, after we go look for tissues."
"Gross," Ha-yoon retorts in a disgusted tone.
She walks over to the tub. It looks fine, but...
She puts a leg in, carefully adding pressure until she's fully in. "I think the tub is fine too, but I'm not sure about the drainage."
Si-woo opens the mirror cabinet. "While you wash yourself, I'll be downstairs listening for any sounds of dripping."
He grabs a washcloth. "There's a few clean towels and soap." He hands Ha-yoon a bar and a cloth.
"We'll just have to make do," he murmurs. "Let me know if you need help or more water," he adds before he leaves.
Together, they work into the night, cleaning the necessary parts of the house, moving the dust and debris that corroded almost every corner.
...
Si-woo stares at his mother's dried blood puddle and the trail that leads outside.
"Mom..." Si-woo murmurs sentimentally, the yearning words leaving a stale taste. He pours the remainder of the floor cleaner before scrubbing it away with a ragged bath towel.
I remember the time Ye-jun and I thought it'd be cool if we both dyed our hair blue. Mom came home speechless... until she saw the bathroom and exploded. She said it looked like a whole village of Smurfs decided to have a masquerade ball.
Si-woo's scrubbing mutes his low cries. Every scrub brings memories, but leaves grief.
The moon casts a ghostly pallor over their efforts, its light projecting the shadows of cracks in the walls.
"Done," Ha-yoon exclaimed, looking at the tidy bedroom that was now livable. "Si-woo's brother must've been really amazing," she pondered, gazing at Ye-jun's trophies and broken mechanical clock models. The moonlight shone through the roof, making the bed radiate comfort.
Ugh, my school uniform is still dirty even after I tried to wash it a little, Ha-yoon thought, looking at her black skirt. I guess tomorrow Si-woo and I will go look for stuff... and maybe we'll even find some more people.
Ha-yoon's exhaustion reached a breaking point. Her eyes are swollen red from crying, and her body pleads for rest. Looking at the bed she had dusted and cleaned, she feels a strange comfort in that one intact piece of furniture amidst the chaos. She climbs in, feeling the coldness of the sheets against her skin. She didn't bother to change out of her school uniform. It was a chilly night.
After Si-woo finishes, he heads toward the bedroom.
It's weird, Si-woo thought. I have a fever... or had one, but if that's true, why don't I feel sick anymore? Just exhausted.
He approaches the door, his mind still racing. The door was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of moonlight to creep in, painting the floor in a silvery glow. Through the silence, he heard the faint sobs of Ha-yoon.
He pauses, collecting himself. She might get embarrassed… or it'll be really awkward if I go in now.
He took a deep breath and walks back down the hallway the way he came. As he returned, he made his footsteps louder than before, just enough so she could hear.
He enters the room. Ha-yoon lay on the bed, her eyes squeezed shut, pretending to sleep. Hopefully she's calmed down a bit.
She holds her breath, hoping to be convincing. Si-woo couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. We're all that we've got now.
Si-woo made his way to the opposite side of the bed, the mattress sighing under his weight. The stars peeked through the gaping hole in the roof, casting light patterns across the room. The twinkling stars struck a contrast to the darkness that consumed the world outside. Si-woo stared up at them. It's not all so bad... right?
He heard Ha-yoon's soft whimpers on the other side of the bed. What can I do? I don't think anything I can say would sound right.
Unsure, he slid closer, reaching out to gently touch her arm. She flinched at first, then relaxed, turning toward him, her eyelids wet but still closed.
Si-woo held her hand, sharing the gentle warmth of each other. They lay there, two souls in the calamity, clinging to the one thing that made sense at that moment, each other.
Exhaustion took over, and the siblings drifted off into sleep. The cold night air seeped into the room, bringing with it an occasional whistle of the wind and unidentifiable rumbles in the distance. The house creaked and groaned.
Si-woo's eyes snapped open, his heart racing. "It's anot—"
A roar rips through the air, interrupting his sentence. The noise was unlike anything he had ever heard before, a haunting symphony that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the world. Ha-yoon stirs beside him, her eyes fluttering open in fear.
Si-woo sits up. Vibrations from loud footsteps could be heard through the floorboards. Ha-yoon grips Si-woo's hand and begins trembling.
They exchanged a look of terror, their breath coming in shallow bursts. The rumbling grew closer. They could hear the thunderous footsteps of something approaching the house.
"What is that?" Ha-yoon whispers, her voice shaking.
Si-woo didn't answer. I need to find something. Anything that could protect us.
But all he could see was a broken chair leg. Si-woo hurried out of bed, dragging Ha-yoon along with him, picking up the chair leg as he moved.
The noise grew deafening. They both covered their ears, the vibrations rattling their teeth.
Then...it stopped.
The loud rumbling was replaced by gusts of wind traveling through the house.
They stayed frozen, waiting for any sign of danger. But nothing happened. All that remained was the rhythmic sound of their heavy breathing.
A few moments later, Si-woo slowly lowers the chair leg, his grip loosening. He glances at Ha-yoon behind him, wide-eyed with fear.
"It's gone... It's gone," he repeats softly, slowly leading them back to bed.
"There's monsters outside, Si-woo," Ha-yoon's quivering voice whispered.
They lay back down, their hearts pounding in their chests.
"Whatever it was," Si-woo says, "it's gone. Let's try to go back to sleep. We've got a lot to do tomorrow."
"Okay," Ha-yoon responds, snuggling into the thick blankets, still holding Si-woo's hand.
Every second that passed without another sound brought comfort. Si-woo took a final look at Ha-yoon. I will protect her. I must protect her. No matter what.
Their eyes grew heavy as they lay curled up close together in the solace of each other's presence. Only the sound of their gentle breathing filled the open room. It became a soothing lullaby in the presence of the horrors outside.