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Iksun stared at the scar the accident has left her, just right above her clavicle, small and fading with time and her brother's nagging for ointments. The laser scar removal to which she begrudgingly agreed to all but left her with a tiny little scar. A scar that would always reminds her of him. Of why she's alive, of her guilt for surviving. A tiny feather like scar, her mom would go on and tell her, it's the mark of an angel's touch. She'd swallow the guilt down her throat and put on a smile.
Jittery fingers and a perfect knot of black silk wrapped around her neck. The smile she put on has faltered, now askew. She braced herself for another visit. A torturous routine she'd promised herself to undertake. Rain or shine, even when it snows in summer, she'd be there by his grave with one white tulip and a broken smile she'd given up fixing.
The walk from the cemetery gate to his grave is sullen, and the snow coating the gray tomb stones reminds her of his funeral.
A blur of white and black. Like day and night just brushing against each other, time speeding away, leaving her frozen and cold.
She'd twirl the the tulip's stem between her fingers.
A nervous habit.
The tulip now lies atop his tomb. White against the gray stone.
But the tears wouldn't come. Her heart ached and ached but the steady stream of tears she'd wash her guilt with has seized to flow.
A bitter smile slowly creeping into her face. Unforgivable. Damned. Guilty as sin.
Her tear duct holding her tears hostage. A betrayal of sorts...
She used to think there are five stages of grief, and once she's passed all of five, she'd be free.
Free of the pain on her chest just beating down every reason to smile and live, and exist in a world without her best friend. And then she'd recall the car crash, in slow agonizing motion. People look away from a car crash, the first impulse is to cover your eyes and turn your body away.
The flight or freight nature of the intellectual species.
When Iksun realized what's happening in front of her, her gaze fell on Chihong. He was the safe space she'd choose to hide into.
She saw how he pushed his body in front of her. It was his first instinct. No hesitation. No second thought.
Maybe Dr, Ahn Chihong, Chief of the Neurosurgery Department from one of the best Hospitals in the country wasn't that smart after all.
And so here she is, five years after the accident. Trapped in a world that is without him.
The therapist said she'll get over it someday. She said not to rush and just take her time to grieve. Hearing those words scared her the most.
A day would come and she won't feel the immense loneliness. She won't feel the guilt.
But it is all that is left of her. Without it, she's afraid she'd be too far gone.
The winter wind caressed her cheek, her body shivered to the touch.
A red rose.
She'll bring him a red rose next time. It would lie beautifully against the gray background.
She smiled despite herself.
Despite the heartache.