Ch20 PURPLE DIARY

                                    

                                          
MINJI
"Hey girl, it's still early. Want to join us?"


Chriz, my bestie, invited me as always, but I don't feel like going out today. There is something in my mind dictating that I go home fast, and I don't really like this feeling, but I have to be home fast because my mind and body said so. I even had a bad feeling about this, but I still want to know about it.




I pack my things as fast as I can, with my friends looking at me confused. When I'm done packing, I wave goodbye at them and walk out of my classroom, leaving them behind shouting my name and asking me to come back, but I didn't really feel like being with anyone at the moment; I felt like I wanted to be alone and be home fast. I fastened my pace so I would reach my locker fast and so that I could walk out to the car park.












"You came home early today, Minji. How's school?"




My nanny asked when I entered the living room and flapped my body on the sofa.




"I wanted to do something, but I don't know exactly what it is. But then my mind asked me to go home."




"Umm, maybe you're just tired. Go up and have some rest. I will prepare some snacks for you."




"There is no need to prepare snacks, I will go straight to the music room. Just bring me something for dinner tonight.




"M-music room? B-but,"




"Yes, Mrs. Jeon. I want to see what's inside that room that I've been hating since I came to understand things in this world."




I knew she was taken back by what I said, and as I grew more eager to enter the room, I noticed her smile a little at my remark, which was a sad one, but I knew it was full of meaning.




Mrs. Jeon has been taking care of me since birth, along with my mother, but not until she left us.
















I stood outside the room, debating whether I was doing the right thing or if I was truly prepared for what was to come. Honestly speaking, I'm scared, but until when will I hate this room? I've grown enough, and I understand things clearly now more than before since I was already mature enough to face the world.




I slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.




'Wow' was the only word that screamed in my mind when I saw the four corners of the room.




I don't have any idea how beautiful the inside of this room is—this is where my mother imprisoned herself before she left us.




As I walked around the four corners of the room, passing tons of books, I ran my finger over each until one caught my interest. I came to a halt in front of the purple-colored book, which was my first thought. But when I pulled it out, I realized it wasn't a book that was published by a professional author but a personalized notebook. I got curious and opened it almost immediately, and what was written on the very first leaf of it made me feel emotional, especially the photo.

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
                            Page 1
It wasn't a book, but It was mums diary.

My mom got inked, and it's beautiful. I wonder what inspired her to mark this and whats the meaning of this was for her.




The more I got curious after admiring my mom's ink, so I immediately started reading her diary page by page.


















...












I was on the very last page when I heard a knock, but because I already knew who was behind the door, I just ignored it. I'm not being impolite, but anger is already what's playing inside me at the moment.




I notice his entrance but still choose to ignore it until I can't hold it anymore.








I HATE YOU.






                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          

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A/N: It's me in the photo. My father always says this every time we experience hardship, every time we fail at something, every time we feel hate towards others, every time—every time. So I decided to mark it on my body after he passed away.