When I open the door, it’s dark. I feel a storm brewing in the darkness. My body trembles. In the dark, my left hand reaches for the familiar switch, but things get clearer in the darkness. Things I couldn’t see at first in the darkness brighten and reveal themselves. I frantically wield my arms against the invisible storm, my arms and legs flapping like torn laundry hanging on the line. I fall into a well. No, I fly into it. I am aware of my place in the darkness, deep like a well. In the darkness, I’m the laundry that flies, a black plastic bag that flies. I’m the pills and powdered medicine spilled all over the floor, and I fly.

I’m the spilled glass, the pool of water, the white foam leaking out of her lips, and I float like vapor. I can’t move. My body floated away, so I can’t move. The crouching heap of something in the darkness screams. In the storming darkness, the sound of something being ripped apart—a wail, a shriek, a howl, none of the names fit—spills out.

“Jimin!”

I press the switch. The fluorescent light takes a few seconds to turn on, and those seconds are the darkest. Jimin is lying across the floor, as though she’d been thrashing in her sleep. Her long hair is tangled, but otherwise, she looks calm and composed. The spilled pills, the bottle, I leave everything as they are, and I lie next to her. The floor feels like cold dirt. I get up to get the blanket and shroud Jimin with it. I pull the other corner of the blanket over me. I reach out to hold her hand. It’s cold, no longer soft. Her fingers are raw from her nail biting. I try to interlace my fingers with hers, but her fingers won’t spread apart. Jimin’s body is cold and hardened, like plastic. The noise of the workshop. The clanking lullaby of the machinery. I hold Jimin, as pretty as a doll, in my arms. I can’t keep my eyes open, and I give in.

Part II

Part II

Death Mask

Death Mask

Another happy New Year: Happy 1988. Now there are two 8s, which looks like two nooses. Is this how it feels to stand on the gallows? The reality is that only the number on the calendar changes, nothing else. No … things did change.

My watch died but time kept moving, and everything fucking changed. My face was frozen and expressionless like a death mask as I packed, and, like a squeaky wheel, I tumbled into the attic room of Instant Paradise. Even after that happened, the sun continued rising and setting. The wind kept on blowing.

“Receive good fortune this year!”