That was Wes' grandmother's motto. She was our medic and she had seen many many die. That's probably why she tried to drown her melancholy memories with alcohol.
Most of the time, I think she's acting drunk. Just because it was easier o deal with life that way. Any foreign substance that brought pleasure wore of quicker than we Elite could possibly consume.
Her face, when Oscar was brought in was indescribable, my perception of time stopped in that moment. Chae looked grim and determined, at least at that time. Oscar was writhing and carrying him took all our, well, all my concentration, but that one sliver of focus that stole a look at Wes' grandmother's face.
Wesley Hanh.
Belinda Hanh.
Oscar Hanh.
I wondered if Oscar knew he was staring at his cousin, when Oscar was brought in. Wes' father had been a rebel, he had abandoned the bloodline and attempted to make his own way.
Life sucks and then you die.
Wes became an orphan, and Elder Hanh (Wes' grandmother's official title) who had been keeping close tabs on him brought him here. Before Wes came, there was the big migration, when we moved from the old residence to the DMZ. Amidst the confusion, Oscar and his parents took the chance to leave.
Elder Hanh though, always stayed. She was always being abandoned.
Life sucks and then you die.
"I'm going to die soon," she would joke. "'Cause my life already sucks."
In the moment she recognised her lost grandson, bloody, frantic and writhing, she looked as though she were going through a more excruciating pain than he was.
The others didn't realise she wore her enduring mask, the one she used when she treated patients, the one she used when she was sober and unhappy. I noticed.
I've always been the observant one, because I was always the one who hid in the shadows, eager to be overlooked.
I noticed Elder Hanh look at her vials and potions, her collection of mystical properties. I noticed her finger linger over the bottle she had told us to never ever touch unless we had a death wish. I noticed her sigh and move on, finally settling upon another.
I feared it, that bottle. I feared it the way children are scared of the boogey man. It was irrational but all consuming. When we were younger, Chae and I were threatened again and agin of the consequences if we touched it. Every time, it would end in one of us dying a death worse than torture.
After the Oscar incident I feared Elder Hanh for her unpredictability but mostly because of the momentary linger on the bottle of death.
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