im aeran

for @yoonjaeumb

it was an utter shame. pure, unadulterated shame that she stood before the thing (yeah so what if she couldn’t remember the name of the testing machine anymore) with the paper that sealed the fact that she had powers in her hands.

spatial storage of items in her chest. one of the most useless abilities that could be the least helpful for her in achieving her dream--sticking a knife in yoonjae’s back. of course, she wasn’t that significant to the male now (she especially hated the feeling of his hand patting her bangs like she was a tiny child that needed to be cared for, never mind that she was only considered a kid).

how was she gonna kill yoonjae when there was nothing offensive about her ability? 

the tears came hard and fast, dripping down her cheeks to splatter on the paper as she fought the tremble in her lips and the dastardly urge to wail. no one was here to comfort her anymore--not even the closest person that she thought would be her voice forever. 

she flinches slightly at the thought of her twin’s unseeing eyes staring dead at her, open in willfully in her throes of death. 

even in dreams, her sister’s death scene wouldn’t leave her alone--the sight of yoonjae’s knife like an own to her own heart. 

the crinkle of a familiar sound of the chocolate wrapper unwrapping fills her ears as she swipes messily across her eyes, sniffing in snot as she scuttled slightly to the side, eyeing the bar of chocolate yoonjae offered to her with an air of deep cynical skepticism that a fourteen year old could possibly muster.