GUILT IV

WORDS & MOVIES

Bleak Night, Yoon Sung-hyun, South Korea, 2011.

Was it late spring? If I’m not mistaken, it was not too hot yet. But hot enough to climb up the hill and go for a swim in the winding ravine. There you went, along with your gang. Around four or five, full of hormones and nicotine.

The game goes like this, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten: one says he has had sex with his cousin, another says he stole some of his father’s porn magazines, another murmurs he is virgin. He is the only one not lying.

Surely you haven’t forgotten. You must remember, because that sincerity pierced your pride as a spear. And you started.

At first, just a bit of constraint, but you kind of enjoyed it, so you went a bit further, and burnt his incipient pubic hair with a lighter; as laughs raised, so your insanity did.

Your mates followed your brutality, how could they do otherwise? Until you got bored; he was not opposing much resistance, anyway. But when the poor fellow didn’t return home that night, you suffered the biggest remorse. Your pals could blame you the next morning, when his dead body was found floating in the water. But you had none else to blame, none but yourself, am I correct?

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Memories over your shoulder, by Desártico.