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live again - excerpt

HI THIS IS AN EXCERPT OF A WIP I'M REWRITING HOPE YOU ENJOY THANKS FOR READING <3

Author’s note: This is hopefully motivation for me to re-write this project and fantasy it up a bit more! To anybody reading this, I would love your thoughts & reactions to the content. Feel free to reblog/comment/like. This is a first draft scene, so no critical feedback pls, but I would love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to share them. 

MY EYES FLEW open and adjusted to the glowing white walls surrounding me. I was standing in a massive room packed with people. As bodies shoved me, I became a bowling pin in the midst of the crowd. 

Who were these people? I winced as an arm jabbed me in the rib and as a leg kicked me in the shin. I looked down—my clothes were soaked, my dark brown hair dripping with water.

Where was I? The last memory I had was of heading over to Will’s apartment. I couldn’t recall taking a swim—it was still winter—so how did I end up here?

I scanned the room; it was the size of a department store and had a pungent odor. My stomach churned, and I wanted to gag when I saw everyone coated in blood. What happened to them? I could hear murmurs of confusion and shouts. I pursed my lips and cringed at the smell entering my nostrils. 

There were people searching for an exit, but most were pushing left. Where were they going? This was ridiculous; the door had to be somewhere. Ignoring the dreadful stench, I waded to the wall closest to me and banged on it.

“I’m calling the cops!” I yelled. A sudden cold blast of air hit me, and I stumbled back, hitting someone. I fumbled to get my phone, but it wasn’t in any of my pockets. 

“Let me out!” When I banged again, the cold air was harsher. My teeth were chattering, and I was shivering. The fabric of my shirt stretched as I pulled on the edges, trying to stop it from sticking to my skin. 

“Hey!” I shouted. Amid the crowd, I grabbed someone’s arm in passing. The wave of people caused me to stagger; my slippers squelched in protest. My hand wrapped around a wrist, and I pulled a young girl in front of me. What was she doing here? 

Her hair was tangled and matted. Bruises spread across her arms and legs. When I looked to see what she was wearing, I saw blood splattered all over her ragged shirt. 

I gasped and shoved her away. The girl stumbled back. With a cry, she bumped into someone and fell. 

“Where am I?” I crouched down and locked eyes with the girl. “Do you know where we are? Were we kidnapped?” My throat tightened as I said the words. Where were the bodyguards when I needed them?

She shook her head. Her hands trembled. “N-no. Th-that’s not it.” 

“Are you stupid? We’re trapped. Am I supposed to know who you are? Do you know who I am?”

“N-no.”

“Are you sure you weren’t with me when I got kidnapped or something?” My mind flipped through the suspects, but there were none. 

“I’m telling you that’s not it. We didn’t get kidnapped.”

“People are bleeding, and so are you. Everyone’s looking for an exit before some psychopath comes back.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. “Did you see the screen?” 

I snorted. “There is no—” My breath caught as a screen appeared, taking up half the wall. On it were the words: Sohee Young. Female. Time of death: February 14, 13:12. 

I brushed my forehead and winced at the dull throb. The hand that grazed it was coated in blood. My eyes widened, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. 

“Is this a joke?” I scoffed and pointed to the screen as I stood. “Do you see this?”

The girl shook her head. “O-only you can see it. It only appears when it’s your turn.” 

My turn? Was this when the psychopath would kill me? I clenched my trembling hands into fists.

“How do you know? Did you see the psychopath?” No reply. 

I kept my eyes on the screen. It showed me standing in front of someone’s door—Will’s. So this psychopath was a stalker, too. My eyes traced the familiar hallway of his apartment, the dim light, searching for a shadow. And, as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me, I remembered.

Will had been cheating on me. Six months of my devotion to my ex-boyfriend had crumbled that day when I realized he was using me for money and fame. To him, I was a steppingstone to stardom. A shaky breath escaped my lips as I recalled walking in right as he kissed another girl. I should have slapped him.

On the screen, I was grabbing his car keys, my face blank. Where was the stalker? It was impossible to film me from this angle. Unless… they had cameras installed in Will’s house already.

“There is no psychopath. I’m sure of it,” the girl whispered. “If there were, why would they show us these videos?” 

“Give and take? Karma?” I murmured, my gaze glued to the screen in front of me. 

I watched myself shut his door. The moment I did, I saw my façade crack. My face reddened, and my chin quivered. There were no tears. Instead, I tightened the grip I had on the key chain. I remembered what I had thought then: He had taken my pride and had stomped all over it, so I’d take his—his car. I wish I had. 

The scene changed, and I closed my eyes, body stiff and frozen. My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t remember how to breathe. 

I didn’t need to see it to know. I could remember the desperate feeling of wanting to sink his car into the ocean. But sinking his car was a waste of time. Why do that when I could throw away the only keys he had? 

I watched myself run to the pier and sit on the railing, chest heaving. Just as I was about send his keys flying, a running man crashed into me, pushing me off the edge and into the sea. I remembered the screams and shouts, all of which became distant ringing in my ears as soon as the freezing water engulfed me. 

Once I hit the water, my hands and legs flailed in an attempt to push myself back up, but the water pulled me in deeper. I tried to hold my breath but failed, instead inhaling gulps of water. It had rushed in, and the sting of it had me screaming like someone’s bare hands were tearing my limbs apart. My body felt cold as I watched myself trying to survive on the screen. I was frozen in place until the screen showed me taking my last breath.

I covered my mouth with my hands as I paled, and my body started to tremble. Proceed left was written on the screen. Then it faded. That was it. Not even the screen could sympathize with my death, with how ridiculous it was. 

What kind of twisted game was this? 

I placed my hands over my chest, feeling the reassuring thump of my heartbeat. How was I able to feel my heart if I were dead? Dead people had no heartbeat. Yet the memory seemed so clear. How did this make sense? 

Nothing about this situation did. How did everyone else get here? Where were we going? And, most importantly, what was this place?

“If we really are dead, how did you die?” I asked, turning my head to the side. My words trailed off at the end as I realized that the girl, along with the rest of the crowd remaining, was approaching the exit door, which appeared like the screen did. Was that where everybody was heading earlier?  

I sighed. I’d never relied on anyone—why start now?

I followed the crowd as people started to move, which was unusual because I was usually the one leading. As I walked toward the exit, my mind flickered back to the date, February 14th, Valentine’s Day. 

Wasn’t that ironic. 

I halted as I stood in line, whatever line I was in. There were several since everyone was jumbled together. Other than the occasional mutters, silence encased the room. My lip trembled as tears blurred my vision.

I wiped the dripping water that rolled down my cheeks. The feeling was foreign since I hadn’t cried in years. Mom never could stand my swollen eyes, and Dad hated listening to anyone’s whining or sobbing. 

My quiet sobs turned into nerve-wracking ones as my body shook intensely. My shoulders slumped, and I covered my face to hide from others. Not that they cared. 

Not that anyone did. 

Turns out, the phrase ‘first come first served’ still applied, even to a dead person. The crowd, which used to be similar to a scatter plot, was organized into a single-file line. It seemed like most people knew where to go now. The fact that I realized this far too late didn’t matter, though—I was going to drag myself to the front. Besides, being dead didn’t change me. Though my outfit was less glamorous, and I wasn’t on Broadway, it didn’t mean I wasn’t Sohee Young.

“Excuse me.” I flashed a smile at the girl from earlier as I stood next to her. She was the one closest to the door, almost third in line. I glanced back at the number of people behind her. Probably a hundred or so? How she got there was a wonder to me. “What’s your name again?” 

A person midway from the line gave me the stink eye. I gave him a sheepish grin and pointed at the girl.

“Um.” She fidgeted. Glancing away, she took a step back. Her head faced the ground, and her hair fell in front. That was quick. Then again, she didn’t seem like someone who would resist, which was nice of her but also made her a stepping-stone. I stepped in front of her and took her spot. The girl was still silent, fidgeting with her fingers. 

My lips parted as I realized that there was no more blood on her chest, as if it had never been there. I didn’t feel the dull throb of my head pounding, and could no longer smell the odor of blood floating around the room. I tapped my finger on my forehead, noticing how smooth the skin was. There was no dried blood on it, no liquid. What happened to my cut? My clothes and hair were drying, but I was still wet. I glared at the people going through the door—what was this, a security clearance? 

My eyebrows raised at the sight of someone disappearing through the door. Then, there were red and green flashes—from what I didn’t know. 

“Did you see that?” I asked, turning around.

The girl cleared her throat. “Um, yes?”

Two more people ahead of me. “This better not be another joke.” A green flash.

One more. 

Another green flash. 

My turn. I let out a breath, running a hand through my soaked hair, trying to smooth out my wrinkled, half-dry clothes. Stopping halfway, I cursed at the habit. I wasn’t going up against some runway model, and probably not some psychopath with a gun, either. Whoever organized all this was worse. Way worse.

I rolled my shoulders and opened the door. As soon as I stepped through, I was under a full body scanner like the ones at the airport. The machine glowed red. No shutters, just silence. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fists. 

Suddenly, alarms screamed right in my ear and pierced my eardrums. I winced and tried to push forward, but a glass door slammed shut in front of me. I turned around, but another door closed, preventing my escape.

“Let me through!” It was as if a banshee had its mouth directly at my ear. Everybody else from the other side of the door was peaceful, as if they couldn’t hear the ear-splitting cry. 

As quickly as it started, though, it stopped. 

“First time?” someone asked. I didn’t realize I was in a crouched position, my hands covering my ears, and my eyes tightly squeezed shut. The glass doors slid open, and I staggered out to see a woman smile at me. 

“What did you say?” I was panting, my voice hoarse from the yelling I’d done within the few seconds. She didn’t respond, but jotted notes down on her clipboard. Rude. With the click of her pen, both objects in her hand disappeared. 

“Name?” she asked. I stared at her. Her hair was wrapped in a bun, and she was wearing a pencil skirt with a beige bow blouse. A secretary? 

“Who are you?” As if I never asked the question, she raised her eyebrows.

“Name?” she asked again. 

“Why did this thing just scream at me? Why don’t you know my name?” I was still breathing heavily. “Aren’t you like a robot or something?”

She frowned. “No, I’m your P.A. until the council decides what to do with you.”

The council? There was more than one person running this? 

“What did I do?” 

“Shouldn’t you know what you did?”  

I opened my mouth and paused. No—they couldn’t know about that. That happened years back when I was a child, and I hadn’t told a single soul since then, not even the therapist. If they did know, though… a shudder ran through me. Did that mean that they had been stalking me since I was young?

“You know how I died,” I said slowly. “But you don’t know my name. Why?”

“Your name triggers all your information here. Once you tell me, I can confirm who you are and your identity.” 

“I’ll give you my name once you let me go.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re dead. But if you insist. Name?” 

“Sohee Young.” 

The pen and the clipboard appeared again. “Alright, Sohee, let’s—” Her smile paused halfway, and her face became blank. 

In an instant, she crashed to the ground, making a large, clattering noise, like pots and pans crashing together. As soon as she collided with the ground, we were in another room. I was twisting, my hands on the arms of the chair. When I tugged, they wouldn’t budge. Was I tied?

The room was like a courtroom, and the lady that fainted was on the ground in the middle. Was she okay? There was no way a human could make a noise that loud. I gasped. Parts of her skin had fallen off, revealing a metal arm and leg. The lady twitched slightly, but no sparks of electricity flew. I was right—she wasn’t human. 

In front of me, there were seven people all seated behind a huge desk. They all had an air of indignation, each having their hands clasped together while staring at me.  

What was this place?

One person stepped down—a man. He went down three stairs and approached me. I could only see the bottom half of his face, since his large hat covered the rest. He seemed to be the only one wearing a hat—why?

“You didn’t kill her, only put her through shock. Don’t worry too much about it,” he said. With a snap of his fingers, she disappeared, and he locked eyes with me. I shivered from the cold chill that crept up my spine as I stared into his glowing white eyes. He seemed too healthy to be a ghost. 

 “Sohee Young.” His words were like the whisper of a wind. It was the sound that was heard while walking on a trail alone, in the dark. “Time of death: February 14, 13:12:05. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Why?” My voice trembled, and I grit my teeth. “I’m dead, what more could you want from me?” 

“So, you do know you’re dead,” he replied. 

Did I, though? The memory, the council, and this—it felt so real, unlike a dream. Yet my heart was still beating. My skin wasn’t ghastly, and the color was still on my cheeks—a sure sign that I wasn’t dead. 

“We’re not that sadistic,” the man said, sounding amused. “We don’t want your hearts. Where would we store them when there are billions of you?” 

Wait, what? I opened my mouth, but the sound of a slam made me jump. What was that? 

“Ah, Lina. Just in time.” Lina? Who was that? I pursed my lips and tugged on the transparent rope attached to me. A girl—Lina—was staring at the ground as she made her way over here. Her face, like the man, was hidden by the cap. She made her way over and stood next to him, and he placed his hand on her shoulder as his eyes flashed white again.

“Lina Park. Time of death: February 14, 13:12:05. Meet Sohee Young…” he trailed off as if trying to find the right word. Clapped his hands and grinned.   

“Meet Sohee Young, your replacement.”

a conversation between Sohee and the Gumiho, or nine-tailed fox in Live Again:

Sohee: This is for you, as an oath to our friendship. Or maybe a metaphor. Perceive it however you want. Gumiho: This is a bloody dagger. Sohee: Exactly. That's what our friendship will result in. Bloodshed.

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