Chapter 15
Eunhye?” Dumbfounded, Dahye reached out to touch her. She expected her hands to go through Eunhye like air, but she was solid. Her skin was cold and clammy.
“I’ve … been …” Eunhye started to say. Her hands moved to her throat, and she let out a sharp gasp. Her fingernails were long and jagged. She seemed to be struggling to speak.
“What … what are you?” Dahye asked, trembling. She shook her head. “This isn’t real. You’re dead. You drowned.”
Eunhye coughed, a spray of water flying from her mouth. Her voice grew stronger, but it still sounded muffled. “I don’t know what I am,” she said slowly.
“What does this mean? Does it mean I’m dead, too?” Dahye cried, pressing her palms against her cheeks.
“No. You’re not dead,” Eunhye said.
“Then … how am I seeing you like this?”
Eunhye stared at her. Faint red lines, like cobwebs, covered the whites of her eyes.
Her irises were cloudy, but when she turned her head, Dahye caught a glint of red in them.
Suddenly, Dahye had a thought. She heard her father’s voice in her head: If their purpose is not fulfilled, restless spirits will roam the earth long after their death.
“Do you have unfinished business?” she asked.
Eunhye nodded her head slowly.
“Jihoon?” Dahye said.
“And you.”
“And me?” Dahye asked, surprised. “What about me?”
“I needed to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“Hyukjoon.”
“Hyukjoon? Why would you need to warn me? I can handle my—”
“Shh.” Eunhye touched two clammy fingers to her sister’s lips, and Dahye closed her mouth. “Let me talk. I’ve been trying to protect you. But I couldn’t. Hyukjoon—he hurt you, and I couldn’t warn you in time. I’m sorry …”
It was the first time Dahye had ever heard Eunhye apologize.
It caught her off guard. There was a prolonged silence, and then Dahye felt memories come flooding back to her.
The diary, that last day, how Eunhye had fled the apartment, how she had died alone.
Afraid. Dahye bowed her head. All of the regret and remorse she had been suppressing tumbled out, like water bursting through a dam and crashing into a deep valley below.
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Tears leaped into Dahye’s eyes. She let them fall, dripping down her cheeks one by one. “By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Unni. It was my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Eunhye wrapped her arm around her, and Dahye began to sob. They sat like that for a long time. Water dripped steadily from the vent, the sound filling the bathroom.
“Do you remember when we went to Jeju?” Dahye suddenly asked. “We saw the haenyo, and you told me that’s what you wanted to do. To swim. To float.”
Eunhye smiled, closing her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed.
“And do you remember the time when I stole a bottle of soju from our parents and drank it with Bora? You found out, and you made us beg for forgiveness, and then you told them anyway.”
“That was mean of me.”
“It was.” Dahye wiped her cheeks. “I was always so jealous of you. I thought you hated me.”
“Hate you? Never. I love you. I have always loved you.” A gurgling sound came from Eunhye’s throat. “If anything, I was jealous.”
“Jealous?” Dahye asked. “Why would you be jealous of me?”
“Because I thought your life was easy. They wanted so much from me. I didn’t want to let them down. I thought it was unfair that you did whatever you wanted, that nobody cared.”
All those years Eunhye had spent without a moment to herself.
How exhausting it must have been. How alone she must have felt.
Dahye thought about the Mariana Trench and the bizarre creatures that lived at the bottom.
When they were brought to the surface, they retained none of their usual forms because the change in pressure caused them to collapse.
Now she wondered what it was like for Eunhye to wander aimlessly, never able to rest. Her sister sounded so tired.
Dahye looked at her.
“I’ve always loved you, too.”
+
Dahye woke up on the bathroom floor, curled up in a puddle of water. Her neck was stiff. Bora stood above her with a worried expression. “Did you sleep here the whole night?” she asked.
Dahye groaned, pushing herself into a seated position. “I guess so.”
“Are you feeling alright?” Bora pressed her warm hand against Dahye’s forehead. “You don’t look good. Did you have bad dreams?”
Dahye thought about Eunhye’s bloated, blue-tinged skin and damp hair, and her eyes flickered toward the vent.
Something hidden deep inside gave off a faint red glimmer.
A few droplets of water trickled out from the corner.
“No,” Dahye replied. “No dreams.” She took a deep breath.
“Look, I was thinking about what you said last night, and I think you’re right. ”
“Right about what?”
“Going to the police.”
Bora looked surprised. “You want to file a report?”
“I do.”
“What’s changed?”
Dahye thought about the previous night. Her sister’s body had been so cold.
She closed her eyes and suddenly she was Eunhye, standing on the glistening beams of the bridge, her feet slipping as the water rushed underneath her.
Her throat was tight with terror. She knew what Eunhye’s last thought had been: She had wondered what Jihoon was doing, if he even cared.
If, when he learned the news, he would feel sorry.
Dahye opened her eyes. “Nothing,” she said softly. “You were right: They can’t keep getting away with this.”
+
The lights in the police station were harsh. In the center of the room was a bench, and behind it, a row of chairs in which a woman and a young girl, presumably her daughter, were seated. The girl looked at Dahye and Bora as they entered, her stockinged feet bouncing up and down.
At the front desk were two young officers, both male.
“Hello,” Dahye said, approaching them timidly. “We’re here to file a police report?”
The taller of the two officers handed her a sheet of paper. “Fill this out,” he instructed. “There are pens over there.” He pointed. “When you’re finished, you can bring it back to me. I’ll need some ID as well.”
Bora nudged Dahye toward the bench. They sat.
Bora held out a pen to her, and Dahye took it.
The room was silent except for her scribbling and the occasional whoosh as the girl behind them continued to kick at the empty air.
Dahye filled out her contact information, then stopped at the first question. She read the line again.
If applicable, what is your relationship to the suspect/victim?
She wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Ex-girlfriend, she wrote, then crossed it out. Friend? That wasn’t right, either. She started writing acquaintance, but halfway through, changed her mind.
Provide a detailed account of the events leading up to the incident, including any relevant times, locations, and individuals involved.
Her palms began to sweat. Dahye put the pen down and wiped them on her thighs.
“Just leave it blank,” Bora murmured from over her shoulder.
Dahye hadn’t realized Bora was watching so closely.
Suddenly, she felt naked. She turned slightly so Bora couldn’t see the rest of the form and hurriedly filled it out.
When she was done, she went back to the desk.
The taller officer they had spoken to earlier was gone.
The remaining officer reached out to take the paper, but Dahye deliberately moved her hand so that it was out of his reach.
“I have some questions,” she said. “Is there … somebody I can talk to?”
“If you have questions regarding the form, I’m happy to talk you through it,” the officer said.
“The questions aren’t about the form.”
“Then …?”
“I was hoping to talk to someone in charge,” Dahye said nervously. “Like a senior officer?”
“I can check,” he said, though he seemed irritated. He opened the door and disappeared.
The girl was still bouncing. The repeated squeaking from her chair was making Dahye’s head hurt.
“What questions do you have?” Bora whispered.
Dahye shrugged.
“If they’re not questions about the form, what is it about? About Hyukjoon? Or …”
“Bora, I—”
“You can tell me. Maybe there’s some way I can help?”
Dahye’s throat burned. Something awful was trying to claw out from her esophagus, some terrible meanness that she was going to regret.
The door opened, and the officer poked his head out. “Inspector Kang said he can speak to you for a few minutes, if that will be helpful?”
Dahye swallowed. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Right this way.”
She didn’t want Bora to come with her, but she was already following close behind.
Inspector Kang was waiting for them in his office.
He was an older gentleman, in his sixties, with hair that he had obviously—and poorly—attempted to cover up with box dye.
His sagging jowls gave him the look of an angry bulldog.
“Sit, sit.” Inspector Kang gestured toward the empty chairs on the other side of the desk. His computer was on, its screen bright, the fan humming. “Officer Lee said you have some questions, Miss …”
“Kim,” Bora supplied, before Dahye could answer. “This is Park Dahye. She’s the one submitting the report.” Inspector Kang nodded.
“Bora, I …” Dahye started, but Bora shushed her, then continued.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to us. You see, Dahye was the victim of a terrible crime. She was dating Jang Hyukjoon, the son of the YS Media Group CEO. Do you know him?”
Inspector Kang made no indication that he heard her question.