perfectly wrong

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They say time's supposed to heal all wounds. The ones that show up on the surface of your skin. The ones that lay deep within the confines of your heart. Perhaps even the wounds that seem to be buried beneath even your own consciousness.

For Do Hana, time left its mark on her. Etching its hold onto the very air she breathes and her every waking thought.

At this point, however, she was used to it.

Death had also followed her around like a shadow, both unwavering and constant.

She just hadn't expected it to consume her mind.

The voice had become a constant noise in her head that she couldn't ignore. She had tried.

It had started while So Mun was gone, who was focused on helping those on the other ends of the world.

She believed it to be a product of her own powers, absorbing and hearing everything all at once.

She didn't realize how wrong she truly was.

The evil spirits they found themselves fighting had gotten stronger, more powerful.

And the voice in her head seemed to be overtaking her own thoughts.

She could feel her emotions running rampant, but at the same time, she doubted whether she could even trust them.

Trust her brain. Trust herself.

So, she did what she thought was best for her. For her family. Especially for him.

The boy who took every failure as his own. Who took their pain as his.

She couldn't watch him crumble as she could feel herself doing.

She hated herself for doing this to them.

Fending for herself and leaving them behind.

But this was her only choice.

Before the voice consumed her and left her as just a viewer of her own suffering.

Yung had begged her to give them time. To find a way to help her.

But there was no more time.

Not while the ringing in her ear and the whispers tended to follow her into the real world.

Let them think she abandoned them.

Let them think she had given up on her role.

At least then, she could be at peace that the only one who was hurting was herself.

She was gone before they could even realize it.

Time still seemed to clutch her tightly, unable to let go.

But she could feel it loosening ever so slightly.

Inch by inch, all that was left were the wounds.

How ironic. Instead of time healing her. Time was digging into her.

Now all she could hope was that they wouldn't come after her.

Just let her perish inside herself.

Let the voice die alongside her.

All she could do was hope.

~~~~~~

He couldn't help but blame himself.

So Mun had been doing it since the age of 11.

He blamed himself for the death of his parents.

He blamed himself for that time in the warehouse that had almost killed the Counters, his family.