1 The beginning of it all [TW:18+]
Trigger warning: chapter containing attempted suicide.
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"Put down the knife!" his mother exclaimed, but San did nothing. He still calmly held it against his wrist, watching the cold sharp edge against his skin. Every time he touched his skin, it left a weird pinching sensation. But none of the cuts were deep enough. Was he such a coward that he couldn't even end his own life?
"San, my child, please stop it." His mother was now sobbing and only then San looked up and watched her emotionless, blood dripping down on his lap.
"How can I stop? How can I live when he is dead?" he asked, sounding dead. And his mother watched his dead eyes, worrying the worst.
"San, what will I do when you die? Have you thought about it? How will I and your father feel when you die? We will feel even worse than you now. Because we could stop you. But you couldn't do anything to save them." San moved his head to the side and stopped for a moment. His mother made some sense. They will feel terrible. They will feel as bad as he feels now, and he never wanted that. He loved his parents.
"You will be sad?" he asked, thinking, leaving the blade touching his skin. Maybe it was enough to slowly bleed out. He was feeling a bit dizzy already and his palms were so sweaty that the blade fell out down on the floor. His mother quickly grabbed it and ran out.
"Why didn't I die there? Why was I left alive?" he asked no one, maybe himself. Maybe the ghost standing in front of him.
"Because you betrayed me," one said, then another appeared and said the same thing. Soon, the room was filled with people yelling at him the same thing.
"You betrayed us, you should die with us!" San started shaking and tears fell down his cheeks. He wanted to cover his ears but did not have enough strength.
"I should die with you. Yes. I tried. Look," San showed them his hands. The blood was in such a deep contrast to his pale, already ashy white skin. Yes, he tried to follow them. He was brave enough to follow them to death.
A hand grabbed his wrist and started bandaging it. He looked up and saw his mother's glassy eyes.
"Stay with me!" she yelled out, and it scared almost all the ghosts. But one stayed.
"I loved your hands the most. I think they should belong to me, together with you. You should come to me and be with me," the ghost said, and San cried so hard. He couldn't breathe at all.
"I love you. I wanted to save you!" he yelled out, choking after that.
"But you killed me. You killed me and survived by yourself. That's not fair. We all think it's not fair you survived. You should have died with us." Shan's eyes stopped working, it darkened and he only felt how he was falling back onto his bed. At least he will follow them all. He would be with him again.
***
"The school said he talked to the psychologist." San heard muffled voices, and they were both bewildered.
"Yes, he did, and what it did to him! He tried to commit suicide! I don't believe in the school anymore!" It was his mother. His father shushed her down, so she lowered her voice again.
"You were saying that you could go back to Hong Kong? That your company offered you a better job?" San tried to open his eyes. Hong Kong? No, that would be too far. He wouldn't be able to meet him again.
Wait. He will never be able to meet him again, no matter where he is. He wasn't in Ansan anymore. He wasn't in school… None of them were.
"They said it could get better if he got to say goodbye to them. They have a mourning ceremony for all. Some of the kids even went back to class." His father was making sense. But not for San.
"Yes, but they did not try to take their own lives!" Was she so scared for him, or was his mother only ashamed he tried it? Maybe she would be okay if he at least was successful.
"Maybe if he leaves and forgets everything, he will be okay." San wondered, how could he forget? He opened his eyes and saw the white ceiling and a blinding light. He was somewhere he didn't recognize.
"First, we should take him home and take care of him. He can't be like this. I don't want to see him suffer. He is even talking to them in his sleep. I don't think he will get better without proper care." Sleep? What was his father talking about? San couldn't even remember when was the last time he slept. He wasn't never alone to sleep. They were always with him. Even now, he was hovering above his head, smiling at him, with eyes full of blame.
"Let's move. He can visit a psychologist there. I don't want to be in this country anymore. Have you seen how they handled it? The kids are still there! No one tried to do anything about their bodies!" Move? Should he move? But then he would never fulfill his promise of always being together.
"I can't move. I need to be with him," he said, but nobody heard him. The smiling face soon vanished when his mother's face appeared before him. She looked so worried. She was crying, her warm tears falling on his face.
"What did you say?" his father asked. San tried to speak, but he just couldn't. A big lump formed inside his throat and he couldn't speak up.
He just stopped talking altogether. It was of no use. They would tear them apart even if he said something. Weeks later, when they took him to Hong Kong after being closed in his room, he still wouldn't speak up. Why would he talk to adults? Why would he speak up when no one listened to him?
Adults weren't trustworthy. They left them all to die and just cowardly ran away. Because of older people who forced him to listen to them, he was in a completely different country. He had no friends and saw ghosts everywhere around him. Because of adults, San was now Shan, so he could forget his past. And because of adults, he was living the life of someone else just so he could have a few hours of sleep. So he would make his dream come true and become free. But his heart was forever shattered and he would never, ever get close to someone.
Shan now spent his days playing the game HE loved and trying to become champion just to stop hearing those words.
"You should have died with us. You killed me. You should die." Every time he looked his ghosts in the eyes.
