hell or flying | Chaelisa

Chapter 31

Without sparing me another glance, Chanyeol left the hospital room, placing the phone up to his ear as he did so. I didn't mind. I didn't care for the threat he left hanging in the air, nor did I fear it. Either my brain failed to register its meaning or it was just the numbness making everything seem irrelevant. Or perhaps a part of me had hoped that if he could truly kill someone, I would be his next target. It didn't matter anymore, anyway. What he'd think of as the ultimate punishment would only set me free.

Free at last, finally dead, buried six feet under, in a dark coffin, destined to rot away for all eternity. I liked the thought. Liked the idea of no longer being present and seeing the world move forward while I was stuck in place. There would no longer be any suffering, no rejection, no isolation. I would no longer mourn over everything I've lost, and all I could've had. I would be dead, and the world above would not bother me. The daily troubles of life would no longer concern me.

They say, "It's no use crying over spilled milk," and while that was true, how could I not? Because to me, it wasn't milk. It wasn't the plain, tasteless, white liquid that those people talked about. What I cried over was liquid gold, pooling around my feet as I watched helplessly. How could I not mourn when I lost my life? My happiness?

It all started the night I lost my parents, and it only ever went downhill from there. Sure, I lost Alice before them, but when I've met Lisa and Jennie, life seemed to be finally taking a turn for the better. Or so I thought. Because not a year later, I was pulled away from the new life I created to go back to Seoul, where the only thing familiar, were my parents buried underground, in their coffins where I could no longer see them.

I lost them; I lost Lisa; I lost Jennie; I lost Jisoo. I lost everyone. And when I thought I was getting them back, I lost them all over again. Like it wasn't in my destiny to be happy. So when I got pregnant I thought, finally, I would have someone who would love me. Someone I would love in return, nourish, and care for until I was grey and old. Despite who its father was, I was happy because the child would be mine. I would give life to another and ensure it would never suffer the same trials and tribulations I'd have to endure.

Perhaps I was stupid for believing that. How could I, after everything that's happened, still believe that maybe there was some happiness intended for me? Something to give my life purpose, a meaning? I had my hopes too high. Because just like everyone that ever mattered to me, even my baby was taken away from me.

And I wished I would be dead. That I would stand on the other end of the gun when he'd pull the trigger, bringing me out of my misery. I didn't want to think about it anymore. About my baby, about Lisa, about Jennie and Jisoo. I wanted to be relieved of the burden of reliving the hardest times of my life over and over again. And now, with my own child joining the list, I knew the suffering would become so much greater. Because every other pain paled in comparison to losing a child; a piece of me.

Even after everything, I guess I still haven't paid my debts. I still deserved more suffering. But now I no longer had anything to hold on to. Nothing to fight for. And so from this day forward, I would give up. Give up my right to live, breathe, eat, sleep, everything. I would no longer tiptoe around my husband because what was the use? I would be punished either way. And if among absolute rage he ended up killing me, I would only get the desired result. So why try, when there was nothing, no one, to try for? There was nothing in this world for me anymore and I didn't want to live just to endure the painful blows life delivered again and again.

I didn't look back when I heard the door open again, didn't perk up at the sound. I stayed stoic, my gaze still glued to the window for what I knew probably must've been hours now. Or at least, it felt like that. And though to an observer I might have been searching for something, fascinated by the world, I was far from that. Because looking outside was the only thing that kept me from screaming and thrashing around the room in fury and devastation. I was deep in my own world, consumed by my thoughts, my eyes not registering any movement.