St. Raphael Hospital, Gangnam – 02:48 KST
The quiet ER corridor suddenly came alive with the sound of rushing footsteps and stretcher wheels rolling fast. Rachel, unconscious and wrapped in an emergency blanket, was pale, her lips slightly blue. One medic pressed a stethoscope to her chest while another inserted an IV line.
"Female, approximately twenty-two years old. Severe shock, most likely from trauma. Abrasions on her arms and knees, partially torn clothing," a nurse reported, handing over a form.
"Call the emergency contact in her wallet," ordered the on-duty doctor.
Soon after, a nurse pressed a button on the hospital phone.
"This is St. Raphael Hospital. Is this Rachel Shin's family number?"
A groggy but anxious voice responded, "Yes, I'm her father. What's going on?"
"Your daughter is currently under our care. She was found unconscious on the street. But rest assured, she's stable and receiving treatment."
Silence. Then Shin Michael's deep voice trembled. "I… I'm coming right away. Please take good care of her."
"We'll do our best, sir."
The nurse ended the call with a long sigh. Meanwhile, Rachel lay in the observation room, monitored by various devices. Though her eyes were closed, her forehead was drenched in cold sweat, and her body trembled slightly.
"Poor girl…" whispered the nurse beside her bed. "All alone in a dark alley like that…"
15 minutes later
The ER doors swung open violently. Shin Michael rushed in, followed by his wife, Mrs. Eun-Ji. Both their faces were stricken with panic.
"Rachel!" cried the mother, her voice choked.
"Room 3," the staff pointed.
They approached and fell silent at the sight of their daughter lying weakly.
"Sweetheart…" Eun-Ji stroked Rachel's hair with trembling hands. "Mommy's here…"
"Who did this?" muttered Shin Michael, teeth clenched. "If I find out who… I'll…"
"Let's wait until she wakes up, honey. What matters is she's alive," his wife sobbed.
Rachel still didn't move. But from the corner of her left eye, a silent tear slowly fell.
—
Hospital room, late night
Rachel lay in bed, a blanket covering her trembling body. Her wide eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, as if holding back a storm of fear swelling in her chest. Her fists clenched tightly over the blanket.
Mrs. Eun-Ji sat nearby, trying to comfort her. "Sweetheart, you need to rest. I'm here. You're safe."
Rachel bit her lip, breathing uneven. "Mom… I'm scared. Scared to leave this place."
Shin Michael let out a long sigh, his gaze filled with sympathy. "What are you afraid of, darling?"
"I… I feel like something is out there. The dark streets, the strange voices… I… I almost…" Her voice cracked, tears threatening to spill.
Eun-Ji gently stroked her daughter's hair. "You've been through something terrible, but you're not alone. We'll help you through this, little by little."
Rachel gave a small nod, tears now wetting her cheeks. "I don't ever want to go outside again…"
"It's only for now, sweetheart. We'll get you help, and you'll grow stronger. I promise," Shin Michael said with quiet conviction.
Rachel felt a deep, consuming fear. The trauma was a shadow clinging to every step. The hospital, though silent and somber, was the only place that felt safe.
—
Eun-Ji stood beside Rachel's bed, her face filled with worry. "I called Pastor Kim from church. He'll come soon to pray for you, sweetheart."
Rachel shook her head weakly, eyes avoiding her mother. "Mom… I don't want a pastor. I'm afraid of those people in black robes."
Eun-Ji was taken aback for a moment, then nodded patiently. "How about the sisters from the nearby convent instead? They're gentle, and they can help you pray."
Rachel took a deep breath, a bit calmer. "The nuns… yes, I'd prefer them."
Soon, two nuns arrived, smiling warmly—one holding a small Bible. They sat beside the bed, letting the room settle into a calm atmosphere.
One nun held Rachel's hand gently. "We'll pray together, dear. We'll ask God to bring peace to your heart."
Rachel closed her eyes. Their soft prayers echoed through the room, soothing her wounded soul. Deep inside, a small spark of hope began to flicker through the binds of trauma.
—
After the prayer ended and the room grew calmer, one of the nuns turned to Eun-Ji. Her expression was serene, but there was clear kindness in her eyes.
"Ma'am, we know someone who has long supported women who have gone through similar trauma. She works with a survivors' foundation. Her name is Mrs. Lim. If you're willing, I can contact her."
Eun-Ji nodded hesitantly. "If she can help Rachel…"
Not long after, there was a soft knock at the door. A middle-aged woman entered with calm, dignified steps. Her hair was neatly tied, her appearance simple yet clean. She greeted them with a warm smile.
"Siska?" Eun-Ji said, half in surprise. "You're the Mrs. Lim they mentioned?"
Siska smiled gently. "Yes, I am."
"But… I thought Lim was your husband's surname. So you and your husband have the same family name?" asked Eun-Ji, curious.
Siska chuckled politely. "No. My husband's family name is the Korean Lim. Mine is also Lim, but it's Chinese."
"Oh, so you're Chinese?"
"Not quite," Siska replied calmly. "I'm Singaporean of Chinese descent. Singapore is very diverse—Malay, Chinese, Indian, Arab… we all live side by side."
Eun-Ji nodded, still a little amazed. "I never knew. You sound like someone very used to comforting others."
Siska sat beside Rachel's bed, looking at the girl with deep empathy. "Rachel… you don't need to say anything. I'm just here to sit with you, for as long as you need."
Rachel looked at her, eyes still swollen. But a slight sense of safety began to grow in silence. She looked at the woman before her with uncertainty and unrest. Her fingers clenched the blanket, her breaths still shallow. Something inside held her back. A fear she couldn't yet name.
Siska caught that gaze. She didn't need to ask.
"You're afraid Gabriel will find out?" she whispered softly, without judgment.
Rachel looked down. Tears began to form again, but she couldn't reply. Her silence was answer enough.
Siska reached for Rachel's hand, warm and steady. "Rachel… I'm a mother too. And a survivor. I've walked alongside many women. Many asked me to keep their stories, even from their closest loved ones."
Rachel looked at her, unsure. But Siska continued—slower, deeper.
"I've held the secrets of every woman I've supported. Even… from my own child." Siska looked into Rachel's eyes, calm. "Including you, if that's what you need."
Rachel began to cry silently. Shame, fear, and relief tangled together. She didn't know why, but there was something about the way this woman spoke—calm, sure, and sincere—that made her inner defenses begin to fall.
"Thank you…" she whispered faintly, barely audible.
Siska squeezed her hand more firmly. "You are not alone, Rachel. We'll rise again—slowly, gently. In your own way, and in your own time."
—