Chapter 142

                                    

                                          
Jennie
How do I know if what I see is real? The waning dewdrops of daybreak, the sublime sunlight slipping through my window, the air that plummets itself down caged lungs every single day; must it all even exist in the first place? How do I know my reality isn't someone else's imagination? I didn't. Not anymore, I was sure.
As the velvety cold spread on my bare skin, it felt as if my body was laying on a bed of feathery slivers of ice. For a brief moment I wondered if I, indeed, was sprawled on the snow, just like that night.What if I never did escape? What if my dishevelled mind made all of it up; me waking up in the hospital, Professor Lee's corpse, Hanbin's arrest... what if none of it ever happened?
What if I opened my eyes and saw Lisa Manoban standing over my supine form, the ruthless knife in her hand raised, just in time for her to strike me.
But I did open my eyes; instead finding myself surrounded by panels of cold white tiles, water from the shower trickling down my skin steadily, melding with the salty streaks on my face. With a glazed look in my eyes, I began scrubbing my limbs. As the blushed suds of rose-scented soap started turning into snow-like white lather, I only buffed at my skin harder; ceasing only after what seemed like years, letting the water cleanse it all.As if soap can wash away blood from open wounds.
As I watched the murky water on the tiles swirl its way down the drain, I couldn't help but think of how anything and everything that had happened in the course of the last year had all been a perfect mirage. Like a deceptive haven of water in the middle of a desert, too good to be true. With jaded hands and short breaths, I wistfully turned the shower off.
Quickly drying myself and putting on a simple outfit, I was out of the bathroom, going straight towards my bed. Various cardboard boxes lay haphazardly scattered all over the covers, some full to the brim with my stuff, others waiting to inevitably be filled. I quietly walked to my desk, clearing all of it out at once and stowing it into one of the boxes hastily. I then turned to empty the bottom-most drawer, having merely just pulled it open, when I halted.
My gaze was instantly met with an onyx zip folder, one that I'd almost forgotten all about. Almost. With unsteady fingers,I lifted the chunky dossier up from the pit of the compartment; taking in a shallow spell of breath, I zipped it open. The first thing I saw was an illustration of a particular willow tree, one I'd last seen in room 327. The sage green branches of the leaves drooping down all the way down to the bottom of the grand trunk, remained as evergreen as the first time I'd laid my eyes on the painting.
"You have some serious talent Ms. Manoban."
It brought bile to my mouth, the very thought of me ever having uttered those words to a monster.
It was only when all of a sudden my phone chimed, the screen lighting up with a notification, that I could finally pull myself out of the pool of self-hatred I was flailing in.
'Kim Hanbin's lawyer releases public statement'
Reading the mere headline was all it took for my heart to start thumping like a jackhammer. I had to look away, my fleeting gaze landing on a spot near my feet. It had been three whole days since Hanbin was arrested. The KCIA did a lengthy press conference the day before, detailing the probable cause. If there was a dwindling ounce of hope left in me, it too was annihilated the second Agent Lee's words left his mouth.
Lo and behold, Kim Hanbin is the only known child of Kim You-Jung - The Seoul Ripper's second known victim.