#♛—reflections on the past;self para

[athanasia-ia]

Friend of the Devil - self para 2/?

tw: general content warning

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. No, you’re a mistake. You were always a mistake. A damned child. Her father’s words filled with resentment played on and on in her head for a good moment. If she were to believe what he’d told her, then she would never amount to anything. Irrelevant, replaceable, a waste of money, a financial burden - how many more phrases did he coin, it seemed, just for her?

Moon Yoojin hated her father. And she blamed him for all of it: for her suffering, for her addiction, for her poor choices in life. She did not care for her mother either. The two combined had made Hell out of her life, and tonight, in turn, she would send them to Hell; or so the story went. Yoojin did not believe in any God, she had never followed any religion. She had never acknowledged the potential existence of anything non-human. In fact, growing up, she secretly made fun of anyone who thought there was a higher power, sitting up there in the clouds, watching over their children down on Earth. How could there be? If there was someone up there, then why would they allow a child of theirs to suffer as much as Yoojin did?

Thus thought young Yoojin. So, why was twenty-four year old Yoojin standing at the crossroads, with shaky hands, holding a box, in expectation of...A prayer? A summoning? A chant? She was not sure what she was supposed to call it, really, but despite everything she had ever believed, she was now holding on to what little hope she had for retribution. For, if there was God, and Heaven, and demons and Hell, then Yoojin was the perfect candidate to ask for some justice - even if justice came from down below, and even if it meant a bloody revenge instead.

She felt hot. It was the middle of October, an unusually cold autumn too - but she felt hot. Wrapped in layers of clothes, she was shaking still, feeling as if someone had implanted a thousand, miniature ice cubes underneath her skin, causing her to tremble as she laid the box down in the hole she had dug at the forest crossroads. She had driven far away from the city, high on some new drug Senth had been able to get her. She had driven herself to the middle of a forest and found a perfect spot, despite the severity of drowsiness that was beginning to take over. Was it the drug that made her feel as if she was running a fever? Or something else? Whatever it was, it would not give her any peace and as she slowly read the chant she had clumsily scribbled on a piece of paper, her mind went back to that day, in high school, when she’d gone to the Circus in Seoul all by herself, and the leaflet she had found on the ground.

Back then, the leaflet was a mystery, a strange piece of paper with alleged words written on it in some alien language. A year later, the leaflet was forgotten in the bottom drawer of her desk. Another year later, it was all crumpled and worn out by time, carried around in her bag as Yoojin, homeless and seeking shelter, wandered the lonesome streets of Seoul in search for food, for drinks, for drugs, for love. Another two years had passed and the leaflet had been so worn out that one could barely discern anything on it, but soon enough, Yoojin stumbled upon an old story book, and within that story book she found a few symbols which were the same as the ones on her aged leaflet - and when she’s finally put two and two together, Yoojin realized that the leaflet was not an unavailing piece of paper, but rather a weapon she could use against all those who’d harmed her.

She did not tell Senth a word about her journey tonight. He was home, wherever it was that these days he - or the two of them - called home. She hoped that now - it was about to hit 3 am - he was asleep, underneath layers of blankets, dreaming of a better life. For both of them. She hoped that he would not wake and look for her, because she knew tonight, she would not answer his calls. Tonight had to be done. And when the chant was done, Yoojin knew it was too late. A rustle in the treetops, a gust of wind, a drop of temperature - she had felt it all and knew, somewhere deep down, that it was all true.

Yet, she did not genuinely believe until she heard footsteps, and when she turned to look behind her, she found a person standing some dozen feet away from her. It would not hit Yoojin until much later (the next day, really) that she had no idea what this other person, or thing, truly looked like, but at the moment when it was happening, she was certain that it was a woman - or at least something that had a feminine figure. It, or she, was taller than Yoojin, just as slender too - though that was as much information as her eyes and brain could truly process and make sense of. It appeared that the creature had small ears, and ram-like horns growing out of the tops of the ears and the sides of the head, spiralling to the back. It also appeared it had a small face, almond-shaped burning orange eyes, and a skin tone of an unusual shade of grey.

What was it? Who was it?

“We don’t have all night.”

The creature’s voice took Yoojin aback. It was not a voice she had ever heard before, and yet it reminded her of something. And when the creature came closer and Yoojin could see its face better, she struggled with making any sense of it. She felt uncomfortable from looking at it. In fact, the longer she stared the more nauseous she felt, but she was unsure what it was that made her react that way. For all she knew, she could have been looking at something extraordinarily beautiful. Later, in the relative comfort of Senth’s and her room, Yoojin would realize that the creature had only an imitation of a human face - it was all there, two eyes, a nose, chin, prominent cheekbones, eyebrows and plush lips, but none of it fit right. If one were to describe it best, it was as if someone who was great at drawing but had never seen a human face in their life was told to draw a female face. They were given the basics, but no soul, no essence.

“What do you want?” the creature asked.

“I.” Yoojin tried, but she could not speak. She was not afraid. Strangely enough, a skeptic all of her life, she was not given proof of something beyond, and she was unafraid. She was oddly unperturbed, and yet she could not speak.

“Your parents?” the creature spoke. It lifted a hand and ran its talons through its thin, dark hair. “Yoojin, have you made up your mind? Are you ready to play a game with me?”

“A game?” Yoojin managed to ask. How does it know my name?

“I know everyone’s name,” the creature replied. Then, its mouth stretched, both corners lifting in a toothy grin. Only, it had no teeth. There was nothing in there, except for unadulterated darkness, the kind of darkness that invited one to get closer, so that it could devour one whole. “So, how about it? Shall we play a game of cards, Moon Yoojin?”

“I…” Yoojin’s heart skipped. “Y….Yes.”

The darkness which once resided only within the creature now began to spread. Oozing out of every orifice on the creature, it consumed the world around them, sucking out whatever was Earthly or human out of their surroundings, imprisoning Yoojin in another plane that could only be described as a wasteland. The sky had gone black and vermilion. The outlines of the sky were burning red, and lighting up with strange veins of throbbing light. The air had become saturated, with humidity, and sweat, and dust and something musky, like the earth after a spring shower.

“Take a seat,” the creature said. “My name is Athanasia. If you can win this game, Moon Yoojin, I will make anything come true.”

[athanasia-ia]

Friend of the Devil - self para 1/?

tw: mentions of vomit, and parental neglect and abuse (+ small mention of drug use)

Yoojin’s skin tasted like vanilla pudding and metal. Each time she brought her fingers to her mouth, her tongue circled around the nails, and then teeth gently bit into the cuticles, nibbling on the broken skin. Each time a piece of skin was cut off, she’d roll it around her mouth, chew on it between her front teeth and then, with all the grace of an abandoned, unloved, unrefined soul, she spat it out. There were some alleviating factors. For one, she was sitting in almost complete darkness, surrounded by strangers whose attention was undivided. Their eyes were glued to the stage, and they were mesmerized by the loud, vibrant performance of the Circus. And, two, Yoojin did not know anyone there - for the first time in a long while, she was at a place where no one knew her and she knew no one. There was no need to pretend, no need to hide, no need to care, and the fact was liberating.

Or, at least, it should have been liberating. Despite her best effort, however, she could not help but feel the hairs at the back of her neck rise each time someone moved too suddenly or coughed or yelled in excitement. She could not help her skin breaking into pins and needles each time a shadow reminded her of someone - anyone - she knew. She could not get rid of the nausea either, which had nested in the pit of her stomach from the moment she got on the bus. Yoojin had vomited on the bus, and then once more when she had alighted. Then, when she was finally seated among the audience, as the show began, she kept suppressing the need to throw up again. She kept telling herself that it was all fine, and yet, nothing was fine.

How could it be? She laid her hands on her lap and laced her fingers together, staring off at the stage. One act had just finished, and the audience burst into an ovation, cheering and clapping while the performers bowed, nearly all the way to the ground, expressing their supposedly undying gratitude. Yoojin thought the man in the center had a strange expression, something between appreciation and arrogance. The young girl whose hand he was holding looked as if she had been rolling a piece of lemon around her mouth - her eyes smiled, but her mouth was cramping and twitching in what Yoojin could only describe as a sign of hysterics.

Yoojin’s hands began to shake. Why was she there? Her attempt at giving herself a sense of normalcy - a charade, really, a weak attempt at living a life her parents should have given her - was tumbling down like a house of cards. Her parents...What would happen when she went back home? Just how mad would her father be? She had gone away all by herself, without telling a soul. But, she had been begging to see the circus. For months, since she’d seen they would be coming to Seoul, she had begged and begged, promised to be good (whatever that meant in her parents dictionary), and she had done fairly well in school as well. She had even gone as far as promising to get into a good university. What a foolish girl she was. When had they ever given her anything? They gave her a life, clothes and food, they said - and that should have sufficed.

Yoojin squeezed her hands into fists, biting down hard onto her bottom lip. Father would be mad, he really would. Mother, too. How long would she be grounded? Was he going to hit her again? Probably. Her stomach churned, sending upwards a shot of acid which she could now feel at the back of her throat and the root of her tongue. She swallowed as much saliva as she could, hoping the rising nausea would stop before she vomited all over herself and the people sitting in front of her.

For the next act, they were looking for a volunteer from the audience. Yoojin sat still, only moving her left hand to bite into the cuticles again. She tore one off and tasted blood. Countless arms went up in the air, children and adults alike asking to be picked as the light searched through the audience. Eventually it stopped and much to everyone’s dissatisfaction, it landed on Yoojin, causing the young girl to freeze.

She shook her head. Embarrassed, she looked down, letting long locks of ink black hair fall over her face, but once she was picked, they were not going to change their mind. The audience began to clap, cheering her on instead of the performers. Someone pushed some hair off her face and spoke to her in a gentle, albeit excited voice, saying she should give it a try. Allegedly, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be part of a circus act. But, Yoojin's entire life was a circus act, she thought. So, what was so special about it? Now that she thought of it, she never should have come here in the first place. Someone else nudged her shoulder, begrudging her for causing a scene and making the performers uncomfortable.

Eventually, God knew how, Yoojin had been forced to get up. Hands and arms moved and pushed her forward, and her legs worked against her. It appeared that her feet had acquired a will of their own and they moved onward, excited to be a part of something bigger, something greater. The rest of her body was as of yet stiff, and her heart was pounding in her head. Her hands were soaked in her own sweat, and she could feel beads of it rolling down the curve of her spine. The noises and the lights around her only made her sicker, but her feet pressed on until one of the performers helped her get onto the stage. As the act was prepared, and explained to the audience, Yoojin kept staring down at the floor, at her toes, at her filthy, worn out sneakers, wishing the ground would open and swallow her alive. In fact, if the end of the world happened right this very moment, she’d have run into the fiery embrace of Hell voluntarily, if it meant this whole charade would stop.

What if it were a nightmare? Yes, perhaps she was sleeping. This thought excited her, and she peeked through her hair, scanning the stage and the audience. They could have all been made up, nothing but a fantasy conjured by her wild, seventeen year old mind. But, she knew better. And she especially knew it was all real when she saw the box in which they were to place her. The view of the casket-like contraption immediately caused her heart to swell in pain, sending her mind into an abyss of old memories: the dilapidated closet in her grandparents’ house where she had been locked by her mother time and time again whenever she did anything remotely naughty.

The thought of being put in that box sent her into her own hysterics, which ebbed liked the works of a tide.

“No,” Yoojin tried to say, pulling her arm out from a performer who was gently nudging her to get closer. The smell of the closet was right there in her nose: the dust, the old clothes sprinkled with cheap perfume. She could hear the clapping of a moth’s wings as it, too, tried to escape the primitive prison. As the audience cheered and the performer kept trying to get her to stand closer to the box, Yoojin managed to utter a “No!”, “Let me go!” and “Leave me alone”, but they just wouldn’t stop. She did see a serious look of concern shared between two performers, and she thought she heard one of them say if they should maybe pick someone else, but it was too late.

Someone nudged Yoojin again and she pushed the woman as hard she could, down on the floor, yelling “LET ME GO!” The audience suddenly fell quiet, and the young girl who had been pushed yelped out in pain, rubbing the back of her head. She looked up at Yoojin. Her face held an expression of disdain and disbelief. She mouthed “What the Hell’s wrong with you?”

And the lights. The damn lights were on the stage, centered around Yoojin. Nearly blinded by their scorching intensity, she breathed out a half-scream and knelt down for a moment, wishing the world to stop spinning. If it could be swallowed by a black hole, or if the angels could horn their trumpets, or if the planet just exploded - she wished for all of that. Someone helped the other woman up and someone else placed a hand on Yoojin's shoulder, but she screamed out a "fuck off!" and got up. Somehow, she found strength to get up and run towards an exit. Any exit would do, as long as she lights would stop following her and the people would stop staring.

She never should have come. Her parents were right to not let her. She was not made for this world and its parade of colours and people. Regretful of this entire thing, terrified of what her parents would do when she came home after an entire day of absence, she rushed right out of the building, and made it just around the corner before she threw up whatever was left in her stomach. Her mouth tasted foul, of acid and cheap breakfast and something else which she could not quite define.

How was she supposed to go home now? Perhaps...Perhaps she did not have to. But, she pushed that thought away as fast as she could. She wiped her mouth and straightened her back. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them her eyes landed on a flier on the ground. She picked it up and flipped it over but, aside from strange symbols - was it a foreign language? some sort of alphabet? - there was nothing else on it. However, for whatever reason, she shoved the flier into her pocket and walked away. Maybe no one even realized I was gone, she thought. But, the late afternoon was already setting and her school must have called by now, informing her mother that Yoojin did not come to class.

She squeezed her hands into fists again and thought if she could just get high, the world would, at least slightly, become a more tolerable place.