Rewriting Altana

"Goodnight Unnie."

The stubborn girl who I'd finally gotten to leave the bar, waved at me, swinging her hands about with too much enthusiasm, while her kind boyfriend struggled to keep her from stumbling.

"Goodnight you two."

Smiling warmly, I waved back at them then turned to leave, my attention returning to my phone as I took a bend before the next street.

'Who would have thought.' I mused smiling, as an endless stream of notifications popped unto my screen.

Danipanda43: I didn't expect it to end like this...just wow.

90cens: This has been an incredible read, please continue author-nim.

Redbarbie: Kinda guessed the whole thing, not very impressive, there's room for improvement.

Bane: Is there going to be another sequal? Am honestly still feeling goosebumps from the last boss fight.

The reviews were countless. I smiled again, adjusting my biege woolen scarf in a quick motion, while thinking of how big a break Seo-Eun had gotten from her book.

-BANG-

"Owww!"

I winced rubbing my shoulder, where a person, possible drunk had roughly bumped into me.

"Can't you watch where you're going?"

The person who didn't spare me a glance, walked into someone else after taking a few more steps and he was roughly shoved aside. I shook my head with pity, the stranger was definitely drunk, so no need for me to bother trying to get an apology from him.

Anyways, the story 'Flames Of Altana.'

Was a simple cliche teen-romance novel written by my friends little sister Seo-Eun a year ago, just before I graduated from college.

Who would have thought that the same kid I used to tease so much, would end up turning her cringey fairytale into a best-selling book.

Although I did give her some ideas too...

Okay maybe they were mostly cruel ones, but still it helped in making her book more original, I was glad for that, and extremely proud of her as well.

That's when I noticed a strange mark on my hand. Accompanied by a nasty itch, it looked like a dull splash of ink on my palm, one that stretched like a bleeding cut and wound around my wrist. It smelled strange, like old meat and felt disgusting on my skin.

I had no idea how it got there, and I instantly wanted to wipe it off.

It didn't budge, and a strong ominous feeling settled in my stomach as I watched it spread even more, completely unaware that I'd walked right into the road

"HEY LADY!"

"Watch out miss AAAHHHH!"

I raised my head in time to see a large company truck speeding towards me.

And that was the end.

...

My name was Kim Hyun Jae and on the day I turned 23, I died.

Before my death, I'd lived a very busy life, one that was marked with hardship, struggles and the constant, neverending opinion of others.

Abandoned as a baby in a rundown children's home, I grew up with fourteen other children and a kind director in a dirt poor neighborhood.

I used to fight a lot during my childhood, at school, at the orphanage, practically with everyone who thought they could mess with me and get away with it.

The other kids cared for each other, they'd use to watch out for themselves all the time. I wasn't a part of them so they didn't care about me too much, I was the typical runt of the litter...not that I chose to be, I guess it just happened.

Finally when I turned eight, the Kim family, an average family from the suburbs adopted me, and that's how I escaped the shackles of poverty and loneliness...or so I thought.

My new family were nice for a time. They provided my needs, I was catered for and they loved me, as long as I behaved. How I did behave, I became the very thing they desired, the perfect child.

Untill they had their own of course.

My adoptive parents had their first child when I turned 12, a beautiful little boy, a miracle child, and just like that the happiness I'd found, was gone.

My baby brother became the very sun my parents revolved around, and I quickly found myself at home, yet abandoned at the same time.

Nothing I did was enough, the scholarship didn't satisfy them, neither did the numerous skills I learned. Every good thing I tried to do for myself was improper, and everything else was insufficient.

They were only pleased, when my actions pleased my little brother and their friends, so I did everything to please them. I lived for them, I lived on their opinions, demands, whims.

I lived like a dog.

The only respite I had from that life, was college. Where I was finally able to find myself and start again.

I was like a caterpillar that had stayed in it's much cocoon longer, only to emerge as the most lovely butterfly, but one that got squashed by a truck sooner than it had ever thought possible.