Chapter Out-take of Moros: The Cruel Crown (Novel)

Out-take of Moros: The Cruel Crown (Novel)

My eyes are burning from the inside like there is a fire behind my eyeballs, or as if someone replaced my eyes with burning coals.

I look out the window, but there’s nothing to see; it’s too dark. A distorted image of myself is staring at me. It seems weird; it doesn’t really look like me. I’m sure it’s me, but it doesn’t look like me. It makes me uncomfortable. I look away. I look away, feeling numb. My breathing is out of tune; it sounds horrible, and I gasp for air. I’ve got to get outside. I can’t remember where I’ve placed my coat, but I really have to go out. It’s dead cold, I’m sure of that, but I feel nothing, absolutely nothing.  I’m numb, and I see my footsteps on the wet ground as if they were someone else’s.

The wind is howling, but I feel nothing. I wish I did. How much I wish I could feel it. How much I wish I could feel anything, but I don’t.

I kneel down near the lake. My feet can’t go anymore. They are made of steel, and my breathing whistles like an old train. I don’t know who I am anymore. I wish I’d feel myself, but I don’t. It smells of rain. My head is burning.

It’s raining heavily, but a ghost can’t get wet, can it? It will just fade and disappear into nothing. I wish I had died some time ago when I still had some dignity. I wish I had disappeared back then when I wasn’t alone. Back then, when I was still myself. I’m trying to act like Seon-Woo, trying to be Seon-Woo, but in reality; he is a plastic-dead thing. A fucking puppet.

I can’t keep on like that; my chest is burning. I look through my pockets for my pocket knife.

Seon-Woo has held it so many times. The rain is growing stronger. My clothes are heavy, I take them off and sit down again. I wish I’d feel the rain. I wish he’d come back to me. Come back from the dead. I’m here waiting for him. And I promise, this time, I won’t screw up.

“This time, you’ll be the only one Seon-Woo. Just please come back. That or I’ll die. I can’t keep living on if we are apart. Don’t let me die like that.” I stab the knife into my chest and carve the letters Seon-Woo as deep as I can. I pray for him to come and make me feel again.

I lie down. The night is spitting on my naked body. I’m waiting for him, I’m crying for him to come, but he isn’t showing up. Seon-Woo is nowhere to be seen. How can you fix something that’s broken? It can’t be fixed. Seon-Woo is dead, and I’m left alone.

My heart is pumping loudly; it’s going wrong. It’s all going wrong. I feel my head breaking in two, and my body floods with pain. Now that I feel, I wish I couldn’t. The pain is too strong to bear. It feels like something is tearing my insides apart. The bitterness of hate is raping my mouth. Now that I feel. I don’t know if that’s what I really wanted anymore. Is Seon-Woo back? Or is it someone else? How am I supposed to tell? I feel vicious, more vicious than I’ve ever felt before.

I spit on the ground, but the bitterness is still in my mouth. The pain of hate is taking over. I can feel it. That’s not Seon-Woo, Seon-Woo is dead. The old Seon-Woo is dead. This thing here is something else, something much more twisted.

 from Moros: The Cruel Crown (Novel)