⚰: my muse’s reaction to watching yours die from afar
status: no longer accepting
⚰: my muse’s reaction to watching yours die from afar
in the midst of sirens, flashes of red and blue, and shattered glass, chung jihye lies helpless in an ambulance. she had never meant to take a life that night. she had never meant to damage herself any more than she already was.
everything is hazy, but she tries to remember. they were driving home from a party that night,
“put your seat belt on, idiot,” she drunkenly murmurs to the other, recklessly swerving into the next lane.
“listen, you may be one year older than me, but i think i’m the smarter one here. driving while you’re drunk, how irresponsible,” he reaches over the lightly punch her arm.
“hey, hey! i’m driving, stop that. you can’t hit me, you’re supposed to treat me like royalty, jackass,” she retaliates by playfully poking at his sides.
as the two playfully prodded at each other, she had failed to notice that the traffic light had turned red. the next thing she knows, bright lights flash before her eyes. she feels a sharp pain on her left side. she’s too scared to look, but she couldn’t if she wanted to anyway as she couldn’t even move her neck.
everything is hazy. “wonpil–” she stares at the seat next to her, glass shards laid on the leather where he was seated just a second ago. she painfully raises herself with her right arm, getting a small glimpse of his body lying a few feet away from her car. for a moment, she tries to believe that she had just passed out, and that this was just some sort of twisted nightmare of hers. but she sees the blood dripping from his head, and she hears him calling her name quietly. everything was just too vivid to be some fucked up nightmare.
everything is hazy. she shouts his name as if he could actually hear her. she begins to blare the car’s horn, trying to let him know that she was awake. there is no response. she squints her eyes to see if he was trying to speak at all–and she swears that she could see that stupid grin of his plastered on his face, underneath the small shards of glass piercing through it.
everything is hazy. “wonpil, i can’t move,” she desperately calls out, hoping that he’d forgive her for not being able to hold his hand and tell him that everything was going to be okay. she begins to shout faintly, ignoring the blunt pain spreading across her entire body, “i can’t move, wonpil! don’t move! you’re going to be fine–just–give me a second to try to get to you, okay?” he doesn’t respond. two men began to surround him, placing him on a stretcher, “why aren’t you trying to revive him? why aren’t they–” she’s frantic. she pushes at whatever is left of the car’s door, and falls on the pavement, screaming in pain. it hits her all at once; every nerve in her body is stabbed, over and over again. “you’re not even fucking trying! make him breathe! do something!” she cries out at the men surrounding his body, but they don’t seem to hear her.
everything is hazy. a few seconds later, she’s placed on a stretcher, but she keeps her eyes on wonpil. she weakly grasps the arm of one of the men pushing her stretcher, “tell those men with my friend that he’s on our school’s soccer and volleyball team–so, he’s healthy… tell them not to give up on him–tell them that he’ll wake up, just keep trying to revive him. please, tell them.” he couldn’t understand her quiet mumbling, and so he nodded anyway.
everything is hazy. her vision goes dark, and she rests with the false idea of waking up to his terrible accent. she never even got to hold his hand.