“Babeeee!” I shriek.

I am running prettily like Suzy in Vagabond, my hair flying in the wind, my breaths coming in gasps.

Pause to think.

How on earth did I find time to watch Suzy in Vagabond when I hadn’t even had time to sleep these past two – no, three…four or more days?
I don’t know. I can’t think straight anymore.

Hang on.

How on earth did I get out of the bathroom? That Veronica thing was swinging a sword at my head.
One minute, I’m in there. The next, I’m out, running, running, running.
I can hear her footsteps pounding behind me. Bare feet, slapping on the tiles.

Maybe this is a nightmare.
I’ll pinch myself.

One pinch.
Two pinches.
Three pinches.

I’m still running.
Slap. Slap. Slap.

She’s gaining on me. You know, like that scene in Strong Woman Do Bong Soon, with that dumb, pea-brained girl walking down a dark alley, and the psycho following her from behind, and she starts to panic, and starts to hurry, and the footsteps start to pick up in pace, and then she’s running, and he starts running, too, and I’m so crazy scared I holler, “That’ll teach you, you dummy, you’re so dumb you’re getting what you deserve!”

I run smack into something hard.
I scream and scream my lungs out.

This is it.
Cut down in the prime of my candihood.
I’ll go down fighting.
Candy boygirls are brave.Candy boygirls are strong.
Candy boygirls have hands encased in iron, tipped with talons for fingers, forged by an eternity of hard, endless, bone-breaking labour.

I sink my fingernails deep into the body imprisoning me.
“Oof.” I hear a yelp. “Ouch.”
It can’t be.
“Babe?”
He’s holding me in his strong arms.
“I’ve got you.” His grip tightens.

This is the tricky part.
The Embrace.

When the Candy Girl is embraced by the Cold Hot Guy, she reacts in any one of, or a combination of, or, in most likelihood, ALL of the following ways.
1. She freezes.
2. She pushes at him weakly with balled fists (Note: Balled fists are way cuter), but he holds her tighter, refusing to let her go.
3. She splutters, and huffs cutely, and says dumb stuff in a cute, helpless way. “What are you doing?” “Let me go.” “How dare you!” She may say one, two, or ALL of these three things, because this is the foolproof, guaranteed way to drive viewers insane with annoyance. Candy girls live to drive viewers insane with annoyance.
4. She struggles helplessly for a while, when she knows jolly well all she has to do is to knee him in the crown jewels to get him to release her, but does she do that? Nope. Never. Why? BECAUSE SHE’S JUST PRETENDING TO BE MAD AND OMG, IT MAKES ME SO, SO MAD SEEING HER FAKENESS!!!

Anyway, where was I?
Oh, yes.
Cold Hot Guy is embracing me.
“What’s wrong?” he says soothingly.
I look around.
There’s no one  there.

“Babe.” My voice is like sandpaper. That’s what happens when you speak in a syrupy-sweet Candy voice for days on end, and scream your lungs out for ten minutes straight. “Veronica chased me. She was right behind me. She’s a crazy psycho killer. She wanted to kill me. With the samurai sword.”
“Veronica?”
“Yeah. She said her name’s Veronica. Is she Victoria’s twin?”
“Victoria is an only child.” He frowns. “Were you sleepwalking?”

He thinks I dreamt the whole thing.
I am hurt.

I bat my eyelashes, and swallow my tears and bite my trembling lips. I almost want to stick out my tongue, but remember in time that Candy Girls only stick out their tongues, complete with a cute pout, in happy times, like when they are staggering about drunk, and tottering unsteadily on their heels.

“She was here.” I drag him to the bathroom.
There’s no one there.

“Right here.” My voice trails off. “She was hiding. Right here.”
But the bathroom is empty.

“I saw her here in the mirror. I was standing right here. And then I looked up and there she was. Standing behind me. Looking right at me.”

I look up.
Omg.
She’s standing there.
I scream.
YIKESSSSSSSSS!!!!!

She’s standing behind us.

She looks horrible. Her hair is matted. Her eyes are big red globes of red. I can see the veins in her forehead. Her hands are claws. Her face is a twisted mask of malevolence and rage. I have never seen anyone so ugly in my life. She is even uglier than The Bride of Chucky.

I scream and scream and scream.

“Hey, stop. Stop. It’s okay, Candy.” My babe is shaking me. “Candy, Candy, it’s okay. There’s no one behind you.”
“But there is, there is!” I scream. “She’s there!” I point. “Standing right there. Don’t you see her?”
“Oh, that,” he says awkwardly, and coughs, “that’s just – ” and it hits me.
“Me.”
That ugly creature, the stuff nightmares are made of, is – me.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” I stare at his chest. I’m in his arms. He must have hugged me again. Or maybe I jumped on him. “I’m a bit, um, tense. Sorry.”

“Hey.” He keeps his arms around me. I turn and bury my face against his shoulder, I let my whole body shake with the sobs. “Hey, hey there…,” he says again, but this time his voice comes to me through his chest wall, deeper and softer, and somehow slower. His hand hovers above my shoulder, and then settles, very gently, on my hair. “Candy, it’s going to be okay.”

It is that one word, Candy, that brings me back to my senses, reminding me of who I am, and who he is, and what I am doing here. I gulp furiously (and cutely, of course) and take a step back, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

“Oh my God, babe, I’m so s-sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. And I’ll take care of you.” His brow is creasing with each word that’s coming out of his mouth.
“I won’t let go of you – ” He claps his hands over his mouth.
He looks at me. His eyes are agonised.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I know it’s because he’s torn between his love for me, and his obligations to his family and Victoria.

“Have you ever felt that you are being forced to say things against your will? Like someone is putting words into your mouth? Like you’re a – a character in a story? Like something is wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it? Like someone is writing a story of your life, and nothing makes sense?”
He runs a trembling hand over his hair. “Like we’ve been trapped in this house for ages?” He licks his lips. “And we don’t know what time it is? And I should be going to work now, but all I do is sleep, and wake up, and lie down in bed, and one minute, I’m in my bedroom, and the next I’m here, with you?”

His eyes are wild.

“What the heck is going on?”
“Maybe we’re dreaming, babe. And you know what’s weird, babe?” I whisper.
“What?
“Azzo and her Oppa came just a while ago, and now – and now…” Both of us turn and look at the empty sofa. “And now they’re gone.”

CREAKKKKKKKK

We freeze.
It’s coming from the bedroom.

CREAKKKKKKKKK

There it is again.

Something – or someone – is in there.