we the cursed, nct dream ✔

part nine

Years ago...

"Are you really not going to say a single word to me?"

The woman takes her eyes off the road momentarily to glance at the teenage girl sitting in the passenger's seat. The girl has her eyes looking resolutely out the window, jaw imperceptibly clenched.

The woman sighs. "Miso, this is immature."

The girl stays silent.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't invite your father. I really am, darling." The woman heaves another heavy sigh. "But I knew that if I'd asked him, he would've said yes only to cancel at the last minute. I just didn't want you to get your hopes up only to have them shattered."

"But you did anyway," the girl finally snaps, tearing her gaze from the window. "You told me you invited him. By lying, you still ended up achieving what you claim you wanted to avoid."

"Sweetheart-"

"No. I'm allowed to be mad. Being divorced shouldn't matter." Miso is clenching the pointe shoes in her hand with an unusual strength. "All I ask is that both of you are there to support me. Or is that too much to ask for?"

This time, it's her mother who doesn't answer.

"Where are we going?" Miso asks later, after a long stretch of silence. "This isn't the way home."

"Grandpa wants to meet us at this new restaurant to celebrate your successful recital." The woman smiles at her daughter, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Isn't that nice?"

Miso snorts. "He's just a lonely old man that went senile after his wife died."

"Miso!" Her mother's voice is sharp. "You will not speak about your grandfather that way. He loves you too much to deserve that. Watch your words."

"Bullshit, he singlehandedly broke up you and Dad!"

The car swerves sharply. The little arrow on the speedometer moves farther and farther right, but neither of them take notice. The wind howls outside as they drive, loud and whistling. Miso turns completely to face her mother, raising a brow. "What, you think I didn't know? I'm not stupid, Mother. I know exactly why-"

"Shut it." Her mother's voice is low, angrier than she's ever heard it. "Be quiet."

Miso laughs again. "Grandpa's gone mad, and it's about time you realized."

Her mother's hands tremble on the wheel, eyes flashing with unrestrained fury. She turns her head completely to face the girl. "Be quiet. I mean it. When we get in there, you are going to be a good granddaughter for once in your life and tell your grandfather thank you for-"

The car swerves again, but this time, its tires squeal loudly and slide off the road completely. Screams escape from the lips of both mother and daughter as the car skids, literally airborne for a rapturous moment before it tumbles.

And tumbles.

Finally, it lands on the ground below with a sickening crack. And then all is quiet.

About half an hour later, two apple-cheeked little boys with soccer balls under their arms bound onto the field, chattering loudly. But the conversation dies as they take in the horrific sight of the capsized car. The two women inside have their necks bent at awkward angles, and their eyes are open. There is blood everywhere.

The two boys scream.

Police arrive on the scene not long after. The little boys' parents are called and eventually sent away, numbers of therapists written on slips of paper in hand. The scene is analyzed; family is contacted. There is no sign of anything else having taken place, so the ordeal is written off as an accident.