Geunyeoreul Gochida! Page #3

For every girl with shameful American-looking eyebrows.

• Short story

								


I want to whisper two last words, but only one comes out. 

“It’s…” 

The second word rings in my head with the other piercing noise.

All I see is darkness, but I can feel ten bony hands pulling at my body and dragging me across the floor. Suddenly, a third word rings in my head. Actually, there’s a fourth word too.

“Geunyeoreul gochida!” 

One of the voices is stiff, and I want to scream at her for what she’s done. 

“Geunyeoreul gochida!” 

But all I can taste is ginseng. 

-

The sides of my body hung out of the narrow bed. Everything felt numb until the scalpels slid into my skin. Once a dent was made, a rubber hand peeled a strip off clean. It felt like vinegar on a wound, a salt-coated knife cutting into my skin. Then there was pulling. Parts of my body were suctioned and ripped out of me, but it was slow, agonizingly slow, and I didn’t even know what was being torn away. The only part I was sure of were my fingers, which were all pried off, one by one. 

The tightness of the grips made my body scream. Too much tugging and tearing. It was almost like spikes pressured into my body, leaving my mouth desert dry. Then the needles poked through, microblading a sheet onto my bloodied figure. My face, my legs, my arms, my stomach. I felt like a skeleton wrapped in silk. I was unsure of what I looked like, but the rubber hands opened my eyes for a second. There was light. Temporary light. It snapped away when a scream boiled throughout my body. 

The rubber hands had ripped my eyelids out. 

—

My eyes blink open, but they’re struggling to do so. I can feel thread tattooed onto them, dragging my eyelids down. Only one word enters my mind. Hurt. Everything hurts. 

I force myself upward, my whole body aching as I sit up. I look at my surroundings, and all I see is white. White beds, white sheets, white walls. The sheet on top of me has a speck of blood on the bottom, so I look down. There’s blood coating the floor, seeping out from the bottom of the sheets. I notice chunks swimming around the red pool, and I already know what they are. Those chunks are why I’m shivering. 

Then I look forward. 

A sharp gasp escapes my throat. 

There’s a girl staring at me, her mouth slightly open and shock painted on her face. She has the palest skin I have ever seen, and her body looks small and frail. I recognize the stitches on her body parts, almost identical to the ones I had seen on Min-Kyung. There are red gashes on top and below her eyes, and her stare is so scared and helpless that I almost take pity on her. I don’t know who she is, but she keeps her eyes on mine. 

But then I notice her nose. She has my mother’s nose. 

I gulp.

I turn away from the mirror, but it aches my shoulders. I draw my hand up to touch one of them, and I give it a small squeeze. Fear washes over me when I don’t recognize it. That’s when I taste it. The aftertaste is sitting in my mouth.
	
Ginseng. 
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