- 2 BabKonten
- peringkat
- N/ADUKUNG
"If you ask me who on this campus is most likely to commit murder, I'd have only one person in mind." "And who would that be?" "You." Kim Miran has two goals in life: One, to get through her final year as a Criminology major and graduate successfully, and two, to ensure her unruly twin brother and carefree friends do the same. Min Yoongi is Miran's lackadaisical classmate, always brooding, seldom co-operative and a complete foil to her spunky character. At least that's what she thinks. Until he begins to take a morbid interest in her. But when students on campus start dying mysteriously, Miran and Yoongi find themselves steering towards each other. The two are soon swept up in a maelstorm of deceit, danger and distrust as a serial killer forces Miran to delve deep within aspects of her personality and past she has been trying hard to suppress. Especially when Yoongi realises she isn't all she seems. But neither is he. Set against a backdrop of raging delinquency, strained relationships and fragile friendships, Miran and Yoongi strike up an unusual camaraderie much to the chagrin of those around her. Until their very sanity is called into question.
The starch white walls seem to close in on the young man squirming in his chair, his eyes blinking rapidly against the glare of the bright lights illuminating the room in ethereal hues.
"I'm trying to help you, darling." The soft voice belongs to the psychiatrist seated across from him, her brown hair hanging limply over her slender frame. The tag pinned to her coat reads Jang Eun Ho and she smiles at him in a way which makes him sick. "But this won't work unless you tell me how you feel."
He sidles his head, his eyes affixing themselves on the Van Gogh painting adorning the otherwise bare wall. Kim Taehyung would have liked it. Like he once liked him.
"I have nothing to say," he says slowly, refusing to meet the sympathetic gaze of Dr. Jang.
She shakes her head sadly, a half smile on her pretty face. What would it look like with her skull bashed in?
"I know you've been through hell. But I can't help you unless you talk to me," she prods, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.
And he wonders what the point of all this is. Because he is beyond saving. He doesn't deserve Dr. Jang's kindness.
"You can't help me. It's too late for that," he replies curtly, his head lowering and his eyes scanning the cuts on his wrists, the scars on his pale skin. He can't bear to register the considerate smile on the doctor's face because it hurts. Because it reminds him too much of a girl who smiled at him like that once.
He wonders if Kim Miran will ever forgive him.
Or if she even cares.
Dr. Jang looks puzzled by his reply. "And why not? Why can't you be helped?"
He finally raises his head, and he wonders if the pretty doctor can hear his palpitating heart. If she can see the beads of sweat sliding down his forehead. If she can sense the guilt permeating his very bones.
"Because I have blood on my hands. And I don't know how to wash it off."
