• ChApTeR 1-aN eNd AnD a BeGiNnInG


    ‘Helena? Hey! Wake up!’
    ‘Huh? What?’ I woke up. I felt tired and exhausted, and I had no idea why.
    ‘You’ve been acting like this for what, all morning! Did you go to sleep late or something?’ My mother, Mi-Yun Ash. (博美秊) (박미연)
    ‘Mom… what time is it? I feel really tired ahh…’ I yawned.
    ‘It’s 8:50’
    ‘Whaaaat? I’m late!!!’ and I rushed out of the house.
    ***
    Class 3-ㄱ of my high school was the average class and on the morning of 9th of January, the beginning of this day was no different.
    The room was full of chatter when I rushed in on 8:59 am.
    I sat down on my seat; this was not the best start. Even if the lessons hadn’t started yet. The fact that I had ran all the way from my house to school wasn’t helping.
    ‘Hel, are you ok?’ asked Ferdinand, he seemed worried about something. But I didn’t know that.
    ‘Huh? No, I’m fine…just fine,’ I answered, ‘are you still fine from yesterday?’
    ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
    Ferdinand had been acting strangely the past few months, well, if you call eight months a few. The bell rung.
    The door opened, the teacher, Mr Han had come in. The form and Literature teacher. He was normally a kind man with a sense of humour.
    ‘Class, settle, come on… Justin, put that book down!’
    He walked up to his desk and began the register,
    ‘Ash!’
    ‘Present.’
    ‘Buckland!’
    ‘Present.’
    The list carried on, and that left time for me to wonder, (daydream or whatever you’d like to call it.) that dream I had… or was it real? Nah, too weird to be real.
    ‘Now the subject today is Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare, does anyone know anything about the play or the playwright?’ asked Mr. Han, ‘yes Mr. Dawson?’ He was talking to Ferdinand.
    ‘Nothing about that sir, I just want to say a happy birthday to Ophelia Lear- she’s just sixteen today.’ And Ophelia blushed in her seat, I couldn’t help but smile, I never seen Ophelia so happy.
    The classroom was whispering in chatter for a few moments, amongst the chatter was Justin,
    ‘The mad boy’s girlfriend’s birthday huh? What’s he gonna give her, sleeping pills?’
    ‘Shut up!’ I suddenly rose from her seat, Justin looked startled, ‘how could you say that about Ferdinand you stupid little…’
    ‘Miss Ash…’
    ‘Just because you haven’t got a miserable life doesn’t mean you have to pick on others!’
    ‘MISS ASH!’
    I stopped, and looked at the teacher, who actually still had a calm face, ‘please go outside the room and calm down.’ I walked out, slamming the door behind her.
    How dare Justin foul mouth my friends! Ferdinand wasn’t mad! He was just having a bad time, as all teens do.
    I looked out of the window, it was white, and snow was falling.
    I always loved snow, it made me feel strangely safe, it reminded me of the days my father was still alive. The snow while bringing cold also brought inner warmth. An inner fire, a candle that would not blow out.
    I slumped against the corridor, opposite the classroom was the infants. Their tinkling laughter filled the corridor, they were happy, and that sort of state was something you couldn’t get when you grew older. It was impossible.
    An ear-piercing scream broke the laughter.
    Then followed more screams.
    It was coming from my classroom. Screaming? Surely…Ferdinand.
    Helena ran in, the door flung open to reveal… it was horrible. Two figures knelt over a pool of blood, their faces, torn, the rest were crowded in one corner. Most sobbing. The figures revealed something in front of them.
    It was Mr. Han’s body.
    Or what was left of it.
    The stench of blood filled the air.
    In the other corner however, Ophelia cradled Ferdinand on her lap. She was crying over a… I hope unconscious Ferdinand. I went over to her. A wave of pity and sorrow went over me. Placing my hand on her’s, I helped her up. Leaving Ferdinand on the floor, with anxiety and dread I asked her,
    ‘was it him? Was it…’ But I knew the answer. Ophelia leaned herself on me and started to cry again. Her hands clenched in a tight fist, nails digging into her palm.
    ‘Helen…he isn’t a murderer…he isn’t! He…He’s just sick. Yeah… that’s it. Sick.’
    ‘Miss Lear? Please report to the Head’s office immediately!’ said the ambience, ‘And form 3-ㄱis to go early.’