XIII. DROWNING KISSES

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He was meant to protect

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He was meant to protect...yet he was there to destroy. His smile alone ruined my heart for anyone and for everything.

~ Memory Journal: The Knight page 4 ~

• • • ○ ○ ○ ♡ ○ ○ ○ • • •

It's cold yet she is walking by the beach with the breeze that can freeze her to death. Strands of her dark unkept hair are flying through the whistling wind. The waves are like sirens' forlorn call, agonizingly splashing by the shore, whispering her to keep on walking.

And so, she walks, staggering, with a bottle of red wine – the only drink that her old little cabin can provide. It's the only thing that's warming her up in this winter morning... the only thing that keeps her sane... the only thing that keeps her from deaths door.

Her body is aching. No. It's more like burning, battered by her own soul. As always, the needles seems to have been grilled on blazing coal as they pricks each of her pores. It's painful – a normal occurrence after a soul switch. As she could remember, there was only one time when she felt okay after the soul catastrophe. It's when she was with Namjoon.

It got to be the sex.

Damn.

She could give anything for one of them to appear in front of her and kiss the pain away. However, the world doesn't move that way. Her fate has always been playing mafia and she has always been the unknowing civilian, caught in between. She wants nothing more but to quit such game.

She wants everything to be over.

She plops down by the shore and let go the bottle of wine at her feet, not knowing how its remaining contents gargles as it flows to the sand.

Fuck to Fate and fuck to her soul.

Why can't she have a normal life just like the others? Why does she have to be tortured with the lives she wishes she can forget? Why she has to be in so much pain?

"Why?" With rage in her croaking tone, she shouts to the horizon. Yet, the sea is calm. The waves are quite and gentle.

No one is answering her.

She cries. She wonders if anyone would even have the answers.

She folds herself, knees on her chest, arms around her legs, swinging like a mentally sick person wrapped with the white straitjacket. I's as if she needs to be restrained. She needs to be held down to safety. However, she doesn't feel safe. She feels like she's going even crazier with the pain all over her body.

Her pores are sore. Her bones are cracking. She feels like on fire with the blazing inferno around her. Wincing, she sobs. She wants to stop it all.

If only she has her pills.

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