I could still feel my cold body, covered in blood. No one cared about me. My tears never stopped streaming down my cheeks. No one was there beside me at the end of my life. I knew I wouldn't survive. I was just waiting for death to come.
The street was cold. I looked up at the night sky, full of stars. I tried to reach it with my injured hands, but I couldn't move my arms freely.
The road was quiet, like a deserted place where my voice wouldn't reach anyone. Even though I called for help, my vision was blurry, and my body felt unbearably heavy. I couldn't keep my eyes open, and the only thing in my mind was that this was the end.
All I needed was his love—but he never once looked back. My love, he didn't want it. My heart, he didn't want that either. My kindness, it meant nothing to him. I wondered why I had been so blind to fall for that man.
I am not ugly. I'm a beautiful girl, and I'm not boasting. I had several admirers, yet why did I keep loving him again and again? Just to be hurt by the same person? Just to be trampled by the same person? Why was I so foolish? Why did I give my heart to the wrong person?
I don't regret falling in love with him.
What I regret is never giving up on chasing a cold-hearted man for years. Why did I never listen to my best friend who told me to stay away from him? Why didn't I listen to other people's advice? Why did I arrogantly keep chasing him like a mad dog desperate for love?
Why did I treat myself like this? How could love blind me so much? I wouldn't have fallen in love if I had known it would be this painful. I wouldn't have kept insisting on chasing him if I had known my heart meant nothing to him. I was nothing but a burden to him.
If I had known,
If I had known,
I wouldn't be dying like this—alone, in the corner of the street, cold, and covered in blood.
Now I know that love can kill you—silently and without mercy.
If I have another chance, I don't want to meet you again. I don't want to fall in love with you. I don't want to know you. I'll stay away from you. I'll run away from you. We can live our lives separately, without knowing or hurting each other. We can be happy—independently, separately.
Maybe I can live happily and have a boyfriend who pampers me with love. I don't need your love anymore, and I don't need you to care about me ever again.
Please, let me be happy. Let me live a peaceful life like an ordinary girl. I don't want to be hurt again. This pain is unbearable, and I can barely suppress it. Please help me. Save me from this pain. I don't want this love anymore. Please, release me from this torment.
If love is this painful, then I never wanted to know its meaning.
---
I opened my eyes and looked around. Where was I? The room was white and tidy, filled with the scent of disinfectant. I've never liked hospitals. They always remind me of something terrible. Was this a dream? It was impossible to survive with all the wounds I had.
I could feel this was my body—but at the same time, it didn't feel like mine. Something about it felt different.
"Mio?" a voice came from outside the room. A woman entered, her face filled with relief.
It seemed familiar. Where had I seen this scene before? I couldn't remember.
"You finally woke up. I almost had a heart attack because of you," she said with a shaky voice.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I said sincerely.
"It's okay. Just don't do anything like that again, please," she pleaded.
I nodded in response, not saying anything else. I felt guilty when I saw her tears.
"You need to rest and recover," a middle-aged man said gently.
"Yes, Dad," I replied.
Before I could even relax my tense body, I heard a cold voice from outside the room.
"Did she wake up?" a man with a frosty tone entered the room.
My body immediately shivered in fear. The room suddenly felt colder with his presence. I broke out in cold sweat, lowered my head, and kept quiet.
"Mio?" he called again, his voice as cold as I remembered.
I didn't want to hear those words again. Please let me go.
Please let me go. Don't torment me anymore. Don't hurt me again. I promise I'll go away. I'll stay far from you. I'll be good. I'll disappear. Just please—let me go.
I want to live freely and happily. Please don't destroy that again. I won't ask for anything more. Just let me go. This is too cruel.
"Mio?" Dad looked at me, worried, as tears streamed down my face.
"What's wrong?" Mom asked, clearly concerned.
"Mio? Are you feeling unwell?" he asked again, worry in his tone—but his voice still sounded like ice. He reached out to touch me, but I couldn't stop trembling. He froze, his hand hovering in the air.
This was a nightmare. I didn't want it.
Someone, please save me from this hell.
I buried my face in my knees and cried silently. I hugged myself in despair, curled up on the bed, refusing to look at anyone.
I didn't want to admit it.
Why did I come back to this hell?
If I had known I would return to this place, I would have never wished for another life.
---