Wonyoung (Part 2)

Wonyoung is the most artificial person I have EVER met—fake looks, fake personality, fake everything!

Why is she so artificial? And she’s so cold-hearted to criticisms too!

How fake do you even have to be to be this unreal? Is her real self really that terrible? LOL

Stop … please … I’m begging you …

You … all of you … you don’t even … know …

You don’t know anything at all ….

Is today a good day to die?

Vicky wondered if anyone had ever asked that question to themselves before. If they did, then she’d like to ask them why, for she herself was pondering that same very question at the present moment. In fact, she pondered on that thought a lot lately.

She asked herself that in the morning when she woke up on some days, and on others, right before she closed her eyes in bed. In fifth period, when she was trying to keep her eyes peeled while their history teacher droned on and on, and occasionally during first period, when she was trying her best to tune out the different noises the equipment in the laboratory made during chemistry class. At the dinner table with her family while she passed around kimchi. On their roof as she stared blankly at the dimly lit sky above the city that looked like it could use an extra paint of stars.

Here and there. Now and then. Once and again.

Is today the day? If not today, then when? If not now, then will it ever come at all?

Vicky asked herself this once more as she stood precariously on the narrow ledge eight stories above the ground. She was so high up that she was almost a part of that same faded sky that could use another paint job. As she glanced down at the pavement below her, the world began to spin. She wasn’t afraid of heights—she wasn’t even remotely afraid of many things—but the sensation of being just a wind’s blow away from being turned into street jam was enough to even sicken someone like Vicky.

Or even contemplate her decision.

Maybe this time I’ll do it, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath, and raising her chin to level her eyes with the horizon in the distance. Or maybe I won’t. Or maybe I will—no, yes, I will. Yes. No? Maybe. I mean, I’m already here so … what’s the point of delaying it any further?

She swallowed firmly.

As her throat clenched and relaxed on its own, the images and memories flashed into her head: her parents, her friends, her boyfriend, her classmates, her groupmates, her admission letters that she had yet to receive, her past, her present, her future.

Her.

But when her throat fully eased itself once more, she found herself unchanged. None of them were strong enough to convince her otherwise.

I guess that’s that. I guess that’s decided then.

She took another look beneath her and saw the ground still there, waiting for her as hard and permanent as ever. The bell tower of their school was still there, housing her at its peak. The students and teachers and staff were still trailing back and forth, going about their usual lives, unbothered by anything. Vicky herself was still there too—breathing, present, alive—unfortunately.

I’ll do it now. I really will.

I will … and no one can stop me … No one will stop me … right …?

Right …?

She glanced down once more and felt the bubbling in her stomach once more.

Right … right …

Just when she was about to let her toes curl forward a little too much, allowing gravity to take the reigns and leaving it all up to fate at this point, she flinched at the sound of a deeper feminine voice calling out to her.

“Take it from me, the worst thing you can do is look down.”

Very slowly, as Vicky turned her head towards the other person, the other person looked at her with recognition. Although she didn’t know this person, it seemed as though they knew her well enough to let it slip in their eyes.

“Come here often? Because this is kinda my spot, and I don’t ever remember seeing you here before. Or, you know, giving you permission to come up here. But it’s cool, it’s cool.”

Vicky neither laughed nor blinked. She simply stared right at this other individual behind the clunky glasses that covered the near entirety of her face. She tried to take a step back and away from them in panic, and just like that, her foot bumped the railing.

Vicky wobbled a bit, caught her step and her breath, and then fixed her gaze back onto this person. They held up their hands in surrender and gestured towards her. “I don’t know why you’re here, but to me, the whole place—no, the whole Korea—looks a bit prettier from up here. Don’t you think so? Even the ugly bits look tolerable if you look hard enough. Well, except for Sullyoon, Yuna, and the other people you hang out with.”

Raising a brow, Vicky should have felt offended, but defending her friends was the last thing she ever thought of doing now that she was inches away from certain death.

“I know you. We all do. You’re cheerleader popular—one of those types of girls you would never think of running into on a ledge eight floors above the rotten ground. The type that looks prettier without the ugly glasses—like a doll. Large eyes. Sweet face shaped like a heart. Mouth that wants to curve perfectly into the ideal smile. You know, the kind of girl that dates guys like Park Sunghoon, the baseball star, and sits with the other popular girls and queen bees at lunch.”

“But let’s face it, we didn’t come up here for the view, did we?” they continued, turning now to the horizon, sharing the sight with Vicky. “You’re Vicky Jang, right?”

Vicky blinked once, then twice, before she held the other person’s gaze and looked right into their eyes.

“Sure, I’ll take that as a yes then. Lovely. Eugene. Eugene An. I think we had pre-cal together last year.”

Vicky blinked again.

“I hate math, you know? And science. And history. But I can take lit. A bit. And phys ed. But they’re not the reason I’m up here. No offense if that’s why you are. You’re probably better than me at most of those anyway because pretty much everyone’s better than me in those regards, but it’s ok. It’s cool. See, I’m quite excellent at other more important things—football, sex, and consistently disappointing my family, just to name a few. By the way, it’s apparently true that you’ll never really get to actually use any of those subjects in the real world. At least, not in any way that I know of.”

Vicky held her breath, refusing to say a word. She didn’t know where any part of this conversation was coming from or where it was supposed to be headed.

Eugene raised her hands and stretched her arms out before ruffling the messy mop of jet black hair that curled forwards towards her face. “It’s starting to rain. I guess there’s an argument to be made that the rain might wash away all the blood, leaving us a neater mess to clean up after. But it’s the mess part that’s got me thinking. I’m not vain. I’m human. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to look like I’ve been run through the wood chipper at my funeral.”

When Vicky grew more conscious of the change in weather, she couldn’t control her shivering or shaking now. Eugene approached her cautiously and carefully, making sure to avoid making any wrong moves—lest that be the end of them. Vicky could tell what Eugene was doing—she was trying her best to distract her from her thoughts, from her impulsive decision, from the mistake she was about to commit.

Is it a mistake now? Is that it?

Still, she didn’t know how to respond to Eugene’s sudden turn into the grimmer topics.

“I’ve made it clear I want cremation, but my mom doesn’t believe in it. So it’ll be open coffin for me, which means if I jump, it ain’t gonna be pretty. Besides, I kind of like my face intact like this—two eyes, one nose, one mouth, a full set of teeth, which, if I’m being honest, is one of my better features.” As if on command, Eugene smiled towards Vicky and raised her brows. “Everything right where it should be, on the outside at least.”

Eugene must have sensed Vicky’s lack of understanding of the situation as she surprised Vicky with a loud clap of her hands clasping each other together. “Most of all, I feel bad for the reaper. The grim reaper, I mean. What a shitty job that must be anyway—made worse by how he’d have to deal with an asshole like me too.”

While the two girls were rather preoccupied with their oddly strung conversation, someone from below yelled. “Vicky? Vicky Jang? Is that Vicky up there?”

“Oh crap,” Vicky muttered, so low it was barely audible by anyone other than her. “Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-ohgod—.”

The wind blew up against her skirt once more and nearly could have made it fly off had she not pushed it down. She looked like her soul would have left her body and been blown away too. By now, there was a general gathering of buzzing down on the ground, when suddenly, Eugene shouted. “Don’t try to save me! Back off! You’ll only kill yourself!”

Vicky widened her eyes and shot a confused look at her, but Eugene lifted a finger to her lips and shook her head. “Here’s the plan, Victory Jang—.”

“Don’t call me that,” Vicky spat, glancing between Eugene and the crowd below.

Chuckling, Eugene scoffed and shook her head. “Whatever you say, Victory. Throw your shoes towards the bell and then hold onto the rail, just grab right onto it, and once you’ve got it, lean against it and lift your right foot up and over. Got it? Got all of it?”

Vicky wanted to shake her head and refuse, but the thought of almost slipping from that simple motion made her curl in fear and nod instead.

“No unnecessary movements. And whatever you do, don’t go the wrong way and step forward instead of back. I’ll count. Got it? On three.”

“Wait, on three as in when you say three? Or when you say—?”

“One. Two. Three!”