Vengeful Desires

5-

At the crack of dawn, Amirah was roused from her fitful slumber by the harsh clang of her cell door opening. She sat up, blinking blearily as a prison guard entered flanked by another woman - the warden, if Amirah recalled correctly.

"On your feet, inmate," the guard yelled. "Warden wants a word."

Amirah complied, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot. The warden stepped forward, appraising her with a scrutinizing gaze before holding out a bundle of clothing.

"These are for you," she stated flatly. "The request for you to attend the funeral has been granted by the deceased's father. Consider yourself fortunate his mercy extends even to..." She pursed her lips, seeming to bite back a more derisive comment, looking over the woman before her once more she just sighed.

Amirah accepted the garments, eyes widening slightly as she recognized the somber black hanbok clutched in her hands. She looked up at the warden, feeling a lump form in her throat as gratitude washed over her.

"Thank you," she managed to rasp out, dipping into a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you for this kindness."

The warden's expression remained impassive as she gave a terse nod. "Don't make me regret it. We'll be by to collect you in a few hours."

With that, she turned on her heel and exited, leaving Amirah alone to prepare herself for the solemn day ahead. She hugged the hanbok's neatly folded fabric to her chest, letting her eyes slip closed as she sent up a silent prayer of thanks - for this fleeting chance to properly bid farewell to her beloved son.

A few hours later, there was a soft rap at her cell's barred window. Amirah turned to find the familiar, careworn face of Mr. Cha peering in at her. She rose, clutching the hanbok against her as she approached.

"Mrs. Osuoa," the old retainer greeted her with a somber dip of his head. "I realize this is a trying day for you. I come bearing something that may offer a small measure of solace."

Reaching into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, he extracted a creased envelope and slid it through the bars into Amirah's waiting hands. She opened it carefully, feeling her breath catch as she gently pulled out the contents - a simple photograph of Dami, radiant smile stretching his features.

Tears pricked at the corners of Amirah's eyes as she traced the outline of her son's beloved face. She looked up at Mr. Cha, a wealth of emotions passing between them in that weighted silence - grief, remorse, but also a fleeting glimmer of gratefulness.

"Thank you, Cha-ssi," she finally murmured, clutching the photograph reverently. "This...this will give me strength."

He inclined his head once more before retreating, leaving Amirah to prepare herself - heart in hand - for whatever fortitude the day demanded of her next.

Saturday arrived overcast and solemn, the slate gray skies seeming to bend low over Seoul in shared mourning. Amirah sat huddled in the back of the prison transport van, the black silk of her hanbok rustling faintly with each jostle over the city's winding streets.

She clutched Dami's photo to her breast with one hand, the other absently rubbing over the coarse fabric binding her wrists together.

As the cemetery's ornate gates came into view, she felt her throat constrict. Glancing up, she found the stony profile of the nearest guard regarding her in the rearview mirror. Their eyes met and held for a suspended beat before Amirah spoke up, voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Please..." she began, hating how her words emerged tremulous. "Just for today, I'm begging you...remove these." She lifted her manacled wrists infinitesimally. "I didn't kill my child, and I'll serve whatever penance is deserved. But today, please don't let him see his mother in chains. He was...he was such a protective, gentle soul. I can't bear the thought of him being afraid of me like this."