How to Survive the Horror Novel I Wrote
Chapter 38
August 23.
Title: My Wish
I wish my stepfather would die.
August 24.
I want to kill my stepfather.
August 25.
Die, Stepfather.
August 26.
Die. Die. Die. Di—
Snap.
The pencil lead snapped. This happened often when I wrote in my diary, because I pressed down too hard. But I was so angry I couldn’t help it.
Fumbling across the floor in the pitch-black darkness, I pulled over the pencil sharpener I had set aside beforehand.
After a few clumsy attempts, I inserted the pencil and turned the crank, but tears burst forth once more.
It hurt, it felt unfair, and it was miserable. It was always like this after getting beaten by my stepfather.
Hiding under the desk in the dark room, secretly writing in my diary so he wouldn’t know, I felt like the most miserable person in the world.
As I wept aloud, my drunk stepfather’s shouting leaked in from outside the firmly locked door.
“Shut up!”
My shoulders flinched violently. I clamped a hand over my mouth at once. My startled heart pounded as if it would burst.
Then, the sound of the TV grew clearer.
The banter and laughter of celebrities. My stepfather laughing along with them. The laughter of people who didn’t care whether I cried or not.
A sudden surge of sorrow poured out from my eyes, nose, and mouth.
Hic. Ugh. Sob. Suppressed sobs leaked out beneath the two hands clasped over my lips.
I hated everything. I hated the celebrities having fun on TV, I hated Mom for not protecting me, but the one I hated most was my stepfather, who beat me.
I wanted to beat him up too. But I didn’t have the strength. I wished someone would beat him up for me.
No, the truth was, I wished someone would make him disappear. So he could never hit me again.
As I cried with those thoughts, my bedroom window slid open. Wind rushed through the wide-open window.
I lifted my head blankly. I saw an uninvited guest stepping over the windowsill.
A Grim Reaper, cloaked in a halo of bright moonlight, his black dopo fluttering.
To my surprise, the Grim Reaper was a very handsome oppa.
When I stopped crying in surprise and stared, the Grim Reaper brought an index finger to his lips. Shh.
I quietly nodded.
The Grim Reaper smiled faintly, then crossed my room without a sound and stepped out into the living room.
“Gah!”
A thick scream followed shortly after. It was my stepfather’s voice.
I sprang up and ran to the door.
Poking my head through the half-open door, I peeked out to see my stepfather getting beaten to a pulp by the Grim Reaper.
After taking a severe beating, my stepfather fell to his knees before the Grim Reaper, bawling.
“I was wrong. I’ll never do it again. Please forgive me.”
Seeing him beg desperately, reciting the very words he always forced me to say, made my jaw drop and a laugh slip out. It felt so incredibly satisfying.
The Grim Reaper turned his head to look at me. His eyes asked: What should I do? Should I forgive him?
I quietly shook my head. Stepfather was a liar. Begging like that was only for now; tomorrow he would hit me all over again.
The Grim Reaper nodded at me. Then, grabbing my stepfather by the scruff of his neck, he began dragging him toward the front door.
“No! Save me!”
My stepfather flailed his arms and legs, screaming, but I pretended not to hear. Just as he had always done to me.
Before dragging him out, the Grim Reaper looked back at me one last time in front of the door.
For some reason, the eyes that met mine looked sorrowful.
But just then.
“Ah, fuck!”
With my stepfather’s roar, everything vanished.
The Grim Reaper dragging my stepfather, my stepfather flailing as he was dragged away, and me watching the scene.
It was all nothing more than my imagination.
The enchanting daydream shattered, returning me to pitch-black reality. A reality of nothing but darkness and tears.
Even so.
Recalling the image of my stepfather being dragged away while begging for his life, the corners of my mouth curled up on their own.
For the first time in a long while, I felt good.
I felt like I had a dream, but I couldn’t remember it well. I think it was a dream from my childhood…
It was probably for the best that I didn’t remember. Those memories were full of nothing but misery and pain.
Turning my head absentmindedly, Ugeum’s face came into view.
“……!”
Startled, my heart leaped into my throat.
Ugeum was lying on his side, propping his head up with one hand as he looked down at me.
His unreal face—so striking it made me wonder if I was still dreaming even with my eyes open—wore a languid smile.
“Morning.”
“You scared me… What are you doing?”
“Just looking at you.”
“Why are you staring at someone while they sleep? It’s embarrassing.”
“Why feel embarrassed between the two of us?”
Ugeum mimicked my tone, teasing me slyly.
“What if I have sleep in my eyes or drool marks? Wouldn’t you be embarrassed?”
When I glared and scolded him, Ugeum answered with a broad grin.
“Even with sleep in your eyes and drool marks, you’re the prettiest in the whole world.”
“…….”
Keep this in mind. Ugeum isn’t human. He’s made of sugar candy. Even his tongue is made of sugar, so he can only say sweet things.
“Stop talking nonsense and move over.”
“Don’t turn your head. I can’t see your pretty face.”
Pouncing over me like a giant dog, Ugeum showered kisses all over my face.
Helplessly, I burst into laughter.
Flabbergasted and flustered, yet tickled and amused, I couldn’t hold back the giggles spilling out.
It was right as Ugeum and I were tumbling around on the bed.
Knock, knock.
A sudden knock cut off the laughter. Then came On-dam’s bashful voice.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Teacher… but you’re going to be late.”
Jolted in shock, I shoved Ugeum, and he fell off the bed with a thud.
It was an embarrassing morning in more ways than one.
I went to work.
I debated asking the Class 2 Homeroom Teacher if she had given Ondam’s father my address, but decided against it.
Whether it was true or not, someone’s feelings would be hurt. If it was true, I’d be upset, and if it wasn’t, the Class 2 Homeroom Teacher would be offended at being suspected.
I didn’t want to fight first thing in the morning. Not that I could win anyway.
During a free period, as I was checking exam questions in the Teachers’ Room, a message arrived from Jung-an.
「Friday is finally here!」
A wildly dancing emoticon followed.
Chuckling, I typed back.
「Your joy is radiating right through the screen. You’ve got a date tomorrow, don’t you?」
「Chills. Teacher Ha, you shouldn’t be teaching kids right now. You need to set up a fortune teller’s mat.」
「Whatever. Your pattern is just obvious. Whenever you get a guy, your weekends are automatically dates.」
Instead of a reply, a character emoticon punching its palm arrived.
Along with it came a screenshot of a chat window. Jung-an had sent a capture of the messages she exchanged with the guy she was seeing.
「What are your hobbies, Beom-jin-ssi?」
「Im Beom-jin: Traveling. I take a domestic trip once every year or two. To recharge.」
「Do you not travel abroad?」
「Im Beom-jin: No. I find I like our country’s people best.」
「Pardon?」
「Im Beom-jin: Because I enjoy meeting people. ^^ I draw inspiration from people.」
「Ah~ I see.」
「Im Beom-jin: But I don’t think I’ll need to go next time.」
「Why?」
「Im Beom-jin: Because I met you, Jung-an-ssi.」
What is this…? Something felt off. It seemed slightly out of focus, somehow. But I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was strange.
What should I say?
While I hesitated to respond, Jung-an added her own positive interpretation.
「Doesn’t that mean I’m his charger? A battery of love!」
「More like a battery of inspiration.」
「Same difference.」
To me, the two seemed entirely distinct, but Jung-an didn’t care in the slightest. She seemed quite taken with the guy.
I brushed off the uneasy feeling as well. If she liked him, so be it.
“Teacher Ji-an.”
At the sound of my name, I turned around, and another teacher gestured toward a visitor with a nod.
A gaunt, weary-looking middle-aged woman was standing beside her, looking at me. Who is that? She looked somehow familiar.
Minimizing the chat window, I quickly rose from my seat.
As if she had been waiting, she asked me,
“Are you Teacher Ha Ji-an?”
Judging by her age, she seemed to be a parent, but what business could she have with me when I wasn’t even a homeroom teacher?
Of course, parents did visit me from time to time—usually to protest their child’s exam grades. But we hadn’t even taken the midterm exams yet.
What on earth could it be?
“Yes, that’s me…”
When I answered hesitantly, her expression relaxed with visible relief, and she approached to greet me.
“Hello. I’m Ahn On-dam’s mother.”
“Ah…! Hello.”
No wonder she looked familiar; she was On-dam’s mother.
“About yesterday, I really…”
“Um, excuse me for just a moment, ma’am.”
I hastily cut her off. Diving straight to the heart of the matter without warning made my head spin.
Ondam’s mother closed her mouth, looking bewildered.
She might not know, but I did: all those seemingly indifferent backs of heads around us were listening intently to our conversation.
Teachers are human too. They pretend not to, but they eavesdrop on everything and pass rumors just as easily. I wasn’t blaming them; I probably did the same at times.
But in the miniature society of a school, where fewer than a hundred staff members rub shoulders every day, even the slightest deviation easily becomes gossip. And that gossip is easily distorted.
Just like the rumor that spread about me being a gold digger after I broke off the blind date Mo Yeyeon set up.
I didn’t want to get caught up in pointless gossip anymore.
“Let’s go to the counseling room.”