The Devil

01

Full moon. The teenager's eyes lit upon its glory. Her fragile figure draped in the hospital gown, looked from afar, seemed like a lost dream. The clothing danced in the wind along with her luscious locks. Her palms were pressed onto the steel railing of the balcony. They were white from the crispness of the atmosphere. The remains of an iv drip, obviously the needle was still pushed to her slender hands. Crimson droplets flowed from her viens like slender trails of water and fell onto the tiled floor. This manifested the violence that took place while breaking away from the grasp of the iv drip and it's stand.

She had a bizarre looking countenance. She was cherishing the moon and the moment with some ploy  that was buried deep. Each breathe she let out was foggy.

A crash was heard below. She didn't move though. It looked as if she was hypnotized by the moon. A truck and a car had been collided. The car has catched fire. A man from the neighbouring shop arrived with a bucket of water. Soon came in the sirens. Red and blue clouded the place. Stretchers had been provided by the hospital staff coming out from the ambulances.

The truck driver had fainted. His face had slices from which blood oozed out. As of the riders in the car, the man had his ribs fractured severely, his head was lying on the broken steering wheel. Blood flowed from either sides of his head like the cascading falls of a mini waterfall. The woman's condition was brutal than the guy. The fire had eloped her dying self faster than lightning. But on the back, a 4 year old baby girl was screeching for her dying parents. Her tear stained cheeks glinted in the roaring flame that was eating her mother and soon her father.

She was tied safely in the booster seat. A bottle of milk was clenched in her fists. Soon came in the rescue team, who broke the door and unbuckled her seat and scooped her out. She let go of the bottle and clutched onto the shoulder of the man who rescued her. Her eyes glimmered in the fire, it saw the culprit. She saw how he walked away. How he disappeared in the commotion with a sneer, the perpetrator or was he?

"NO—" she came back from the trance. She saw him again. The obliterated memory. The trauma she went through as a child, the torment of her heart. She screeched. Every misery she destroyed inside, came piercing her again as daggers. It wasn't any accident. It was the gore of her childhood. The tragedy of her parents, and she. The tragedy of Jisoo Kim.

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"Jisoo!" The old feminine voice, the only music she considered not sickening called out to her. The woman who burst open the door, stood there wailing. She was dressed in a formal fit. Satin brown top with black trousers. Saint Laurent it was. The pumps were of Christian Dior. She had dark circles under her tearing eyes. She dropped the bag on the floor and ran to the teenager. Tears cascaded from her red, puffy eyes.

"Why! You know I have nobody else! Why then?" She shouted, her lips were just pale like hers. She didn't utter a word. Her lips sealed tight, it formed a thin line and her eyes remained closed. The lady caressed her lean fingers. The viens were blue and the needle was penetrated into it deep.

Her shirt was wet with all the tears. Sniffing, she got up and moved to the bag. Benting over, she picked it up and dug her phone out. Within seconds, she dialled and a voice belonging to a man in his late forties attended her call. "Miss Luna. What can I do for you?" The politeness made the resting girl sick. Being polite. She loathed it. Maybe because she was called out by others politely and then thrashed to the corner.

"Cancel all the meetings. All of it. I'll be on leave for the next few days." She hanged the call, turning to the girl.

"Why?" She asked. The lady quietly went beside her, stroking her head, "anything for you honey. Anything for you."

Kim Jisoo closed her eyes. Everybody seemed to love her yet she doesn't want it. Why? Maybe she despises how they all get betrayed once they strip themselves from the barriers and love.