lost flowers

🎭7

Haphephobia. I read as I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. Being into pyschology books a few years back, helped me remember what that meant. It was a fear. A fear of human touch. At one moment it all made sense how he moved away every time I would try to get up in his face. A phobia that makes someone so panicked and a phobia that can make a person feel physical pain. I continued reading. A patient has a severe case of haphephobia, coming from a trauma he has experienced before he was declared unstable and sent to a mental institution. He's been experiencing night terrors because of a PTSD he's been suffering with. A patient is showing high stages of anxiety and mood switches due to a seasonal depression. My heartbeat sped up as I was reading and as I was hearing footsteps coming from down the hallway. I cured and had to stop reading, not finishing the main page that said all the basics of his diagnose. I put the paper back in and the file back to it's place and ran for the door. I ran outside before one of the staffs made a turn to the room. I hid behind the other side of the wall and when the staff got in I walked to the other side and entered back the hallway on my ward.

The words on the paper were stuck in my head. Somehow, his phobia of human touch due to a trauma he suffered, made my heart drop. I started feeling things and somehow I had to forget the thought of feeling his big tanned hands on mine. Because that couldn't happen. So why was I so upset? Why do I think like this? The purpose of this research was to find a weak spot and to intentionally irritate that spot, so before I could lost that purpose I rushed back to the room, to not even think about softening up. Not because of a boy.

I walked to the room and noticed he was not there. I playfully sighed and observed the room, suddenly frowning. I noticed his girlfriend's letter on the nightstand and looked around. The curiosity got the best of me. I quickly walked over there and picked the letter up. "Let's see what's so interesting." I scoffed and opened the envelope that had his name and the hospital address on the front. I took the paper out and furrowed my eyebrows at the sight. It was a weird thing to see, a blank paper. The paper was empty, had nothing on it. I doubt that he'd take the real one with him, he wouldn't think of that. Why would he stare at the blank letter and make me think he has a girlfriend? Was the other part of his diagnose about him being delusional or actually insane and schizophrenic?

"That fucking rat, what is even going on?" I asked to myself and held the paper in my hand as I walked out the room to find him. "I'm so going to force him to explain this." I scoffed. I walked down the hallway quickly, but a loud screams stopped me. If it was one of the ward mates I'd love to rush to see what's so interesting that's happening. But this was a scream I've never heard before. A voice that I resembled, but never heard in a way like this. It was definitely Taehyung. I held the paper tightly in my hand as I noticed some of the nurses standing in front and inside the washroom. I ran to there, seeing some of the people observe in slight shock. I stood by the door, looking at the shower on the far left and saw Taehyung in the there, his beautiful tanned skin all red from scrubbing. The water was washing over him, exposing half of his forehead and appealing eyebrows that were furrowing. He started to violently shake as I stared in shock and numbness, trying to process the moment that was happening.

"It can't get out!" "The blood! The blood stains won't wash!" He started scrub his skin violently, making it even more red. "Taehyung, please calm down. Get out the shower." Some of the nurses spoke, trying to calm him down. He was crying and curling up to himself to not get completely exposed. I felt some type of hurt, seeing him like that. One of the nurses tried to touch him. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screamed. "IT WON'T GET OUT!" He continued to cry out. Sana was there and tried to calm him down, but all she could do was tell the male nurses to put on their plastic gloves and drag him out of there before he scrubs his skin off. Even them touching him with their gloves made Taehyung look like he was physically hurt. He curled up and almost vomited. He looked up to me with his puffy red eyes but was forced to look away as they dragged him to the side and turned the hot water off. I turned around and walked away, not being able to handle that. It couldn't get to me how could a person switch in only a matter of few hours, from a soft giggling boy to a crying mess in a bathroom, having a mental breakdown. Somehow seeing him like that made my chest feel heavy as I was holding his empty letter tightly in my hand.

I walked to my room and sat down on the bed. The sight of him like that couldn't leave my mind. I couldn't decide whether I should think about myself and my problems or him and his. Or about both of us. Together. Or separately. First, I had to get the thought of feeling his hands touch me out of my head.