Dry Cry
DRY CRY; PG
He was found dead on a doostop at one in the morning. There were no witnesses to bear a statement, and the only piece of evidence was the end of the cane, broken and dripping with bloodstained love at the scene of the crime, almost the proof that yes, indeed, he did get smashed to the skull. ‘Dead on impact,’ the police whistled, almost admiring the sheer malice of the craftswork.
Streets between and a somber distance away lived seven girls. And while one of them was crying, jilted and lovestruck, another one of them was secretly relishing in relief.
“Who would do such a cruel thing? He was so young.” Eunjung wailed in the middle of a fury of inconsolable sobs that all the comforting hugs Soyeon and Jiyeon threw at her could not help. Hyomin did the only thing she could think of, reaching over and offering a generous hand for Eunjung to squeeze. And she did, amidst all the dry heaving and relentless weeping.
“Don’t cry unnie, I’m sure they will get the cold and heartless murderer who did this to him.” Hwayoung said, turning off the television while the other girls just nodded in unision, not sure what else to say or add to mend the one broken heart. The girls all huddled around Eunjung and soon, Eunjung’s cries softened to faint tears. Soyeon left the room and came back after a moment with a glass of wine and seven cups; seven cups to drown them all.
“To Jangwoo oppa.” She declared, pouring everyone a cup after they got over their momentary befuddlement and continued to join in the cheer.
“To Jangwoo oppa!” the rest repeated, lifting their cups up in the high air for respect, before clanking them against each other and then guzzling them down. All except for Hyomin.
“I’ll hold your hand all day tomorrow at the funeral unnie,” Hyomin whispered as she climbed into Eunjung’s bed later in the night after things died down. She wrapped her arm around Eunjung’s head, cradling her and they stayed like that for some time in the silence, letting the dark wash over them and over the heaviness of the day.
“I can’t believe he’s gone. Gone forever,” Eunjung said after lightyears passed by, moving her head carelessly into the crook of Hyomin’s neck. “What I’m supposed to do without him? What am I supposed to be without him?”
Hyomin moved her hands into Eunjung’s like clockwork. It was almost too easy.
“You’ll never be alone unnie. You have me.”
Eunjung squeezed her back tight, falling asleep in Hyomin’s warm embrace, the crown of her hair tickling Hyomin’s neck. A smile played on Hyomin’s lips wordlessly, as they kept close through the blackness. Tomorrow they would attend the memorial service. Tomorrow they would mourn together, hand in hand, sympathetic tears to tears, like one. Tomorrow they would start fresh and anew, Hyomin let herself think before she succumbed to dreaming.
And somewhere below the bed, was the other half of a cane, gold and wooden, perfectly splintered with just the hint of dried blood, begging to be caught.
>;)