It was indeed the first question that came to my mind as soon as I regained the ability to think. Who killed me? Who would do this to me so easily? It had clearly not been an accident. My murderer knew exactly what they were doing. I was their victim.
The one thing Chan used to tell me was:
"Do not trust anyone."
And I followed his advice always. I remember when I had a friend that in the end tried to hook up with him, but we had already looked through her plans and ended contact to her. I wasn't surprised. She had always been suspiciously talking about him. It was obvious that something wasn't right there. He wasn't surprised either. You can not trust anyone. These words have bored deep into my soul ever since. I can say that because I still follow them. As my own left soul, I still follow his advice to not trust anyone. It is mind-blowing to me. How those dry words can steer you throughout your whole life, and even death.
I miss him, I really do. In fact, I assumed that you lose your feelings when you die, yet it's quite the other way around. I am a feeling. I am a bundle of feelings that can't speak or be seen. I feel. Just how I felt before, when I was still alive.
This in fact leads to the solving of who had committed my sudden murder. When it came to my mind, I realized it was not really that sudden. I started thinking, one of the things I can still do. And when you're dead, there is no unnecessary thoughts running around, you can think clearly. That is what I did. I thought of a name, a face, a background story. Just anything. And then it hit me. Of course. I was killed inside my own house. While sleeping. First, they cut my throat, and then they ripped out my heart. They even took it with them. They must've known me. Known me very well. Well enough to know I would've had a chance if only I had been awake.
I had always been a secretive person. I had a lot of things to hide and never liked opening up. There were literally only three people I genuinely talked to. I'm talking about Chan, my boyfriend of four years, Bella, my sister, and my best friend, Jeongin. He's two years younger than me, but we complemented each other incredibly well. His slight facade of innocence always made me feel protective over him, just as well as he felt the need to be protected by me. Yet not only that. Jeongin knew how to get to me, which was truly impressive. Sometimes, he started to talk about his inner feelings hoping I would do the same, knowing I would do the same. It took me off guard how much my senses wanted to be combined with his. We had such a strong connection. Reflecting the memories we made actually puts my heart in pain. He lost his best friend without being to blame.
Jeongin couldn't have been it. He had a too pure soul. So, who had done it? It was not an easy question, as supposed. The three people in my mind just sticked with me. These three damn names. Chan, Bella, Jeongin. Chan, Bella, Jeongin. Chan, Bella, Jeongin. Like an echo. But what about them? Could they have been my murderers? I could not imagine any of them to have done it. To have killed me. But that is one of the things you begin to see when you die. You see the truth behind all that stupid naivety telling you the people you love would never hurt you. The truth is that they do just that after all.
"Do not trust anyone."
I said it before. I began to see the irony now. Humans are not stupid. They always know exactly what consequences they cause when raising their voice. All they've got to do is speak. Words and expressions, that is it what humans really fear. They fear because they know what it can do to people if they shoot bullets from out their mouth. Now, it might sound crazy, but to me, it was just obvious: Someone who gives advice like this must be giving a warning contemporaneously. Yes, I suspected the love of my life to be my murderer. And eventually, I did not even regret it. Chan knew it was going to happen. He spent the day with me to enjoy our last moment. He told me I wasn't going to lose him because he knew he was going to lose me. It was only a question of time. Chan knew about my planned murder but he pretended not to. When there was nothing left to prove me wrong, I laughed to myself.
"If I wasn't dead already, I'd probably want to die again."
It sounded ridiculous, so damn absurd. The fact that he looked me in the face knowing I would be killed the second he would leave. I bet my heart would've broken into pieces. Gladly, it can not. I was questioning the life I had led. Whether I truly knew the people around me after all. Who is this man that left me to die, I thought. But he was not my murderer. There is nothing I could misunderstand about his movements or his voice. It was not him. The day I died, there had been too much confusion inside of me to take a closer look at the person licking my blood. Were they male or female? Black or white? Young or old? I couldn't figure it out. I only knew that it was not Chan.
Today, I know that it was my whore of a sister.
