Open Book {Mark Lee Series}

Chapter 8

 When Mark emerged from the hospital, he was stunned by the sudden flash of cameras and the clicking of shutters as reporters took photos in rapid succession. Instead of attempting to flee the onslaught, Mark held up his hand to quell the chaos.

"Well, I see that you guys are still following me," he commented dryly. "Up until a couple of days ago, I thought this nude picture scandal was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, but I feel differently now. Some recent events have put things in perspective for me."

When Mark stopped to take a breath, reporters began screaming questions. "Mark, can you tell us why you are at the hospital?" "Are you secretly ill?" "Mark, there are dating rumors surfacing. Could you clarify those?"

Mark shook his head and called out above the noise, "I am not ill, but to protect the privacy of my friend, I cannot say anything further. As to the dating rumors, I need to say one thing. I love my fans. I would do almost anything for them, but my private life is my own. I am not obligated to share what I do on my own time. My life is my own, and you guys are going to have to understand that."

As Mark pushed his way through the crowd of reporters, the questions continued to fly toward him, but Mark had decided he was done talking. He had given them as much access as he felt they deserved. Now, he was done. He missed his usual security detail. They could have made a way through this swarm of reporters in short order. However, due to the personal nature of his hospital visits with Clara, he was not entitled to his security team.

Meanwhile, inside the hospital, Clara watched the scene playing out on a fan's live stream. "Poor buddy," she lamented as she watched Mark fighting his way to a taxi. She recognized and appreciated everything he was going through to be by her side during this crisis.

Just then, a nurse entered the room and jotted down Clara's vitals on an iPad. "Clara, it's almost time for group," the petite nurse said, scanning her up and down. "You might want to change out of your pajamas," she suggested dryly.

"I'm on it," sighed Clara as she forced herself to sit up in bed. She had been triggered before, but this incident was the most severe she had ever experienced. She never realized how exhausting it could be to fight PTSD.

Clara finally managed to get dressed and show up for group. By the time she arrived, the rest of the group had already settled in. She was the only woman in the circle. All the others were ex-military. She felt a bit out of place with all of these buzzcuts and biceps.

"Glad you could join us," said Dr. Choi when he saw Clara. "We were just talking about what we can do when we feel triggered. Joon-Woo was saying how he likes to count backward by three to keep his mind in the present moment."

Clara nodded, but quickly discarded that suggestion. "I'm too tired to math," she thought. But her face remained bright and alert. It was important to appear engaged if she wanted to get out of the psych ward anytime soon.

"Do you have any coping mechanisms that you employ, Clara, that you would like to share with the rest of the group?" Dr. Choi asked kindly.

Clara shifted about in her chair. Truth be told, she had not had much success in warding off an incident once it had begun. "Um, I don't really know," she hedged. "I guess, I hear something, or I see something, or I smell something, and it just takes me right back to that moment when my cousin got shot."

Clara noticed that a former sergeant rolled his eyes at her comment. He crossed his arms over his chest and declared, "Getting shot in the lady parts is nothing like being in real combat. You need to get your shit together."

Dr. Choi shook his head. "How many times do I need to remind you guys not to compare traumas? Baek-Hyeon, you owe Clara an apology for minimizing her experience. Everyone's story counts here."

"Sorry," Baek-Hyeon mumbled. Clearly, he was not sorry, but he was as anxious as she was to get out of his forced internment.

Dr. Choi redirected the conversation back to coping mechanisms. "Chin-Hwa, you have a rubber band on your wrist. Could you tell the group why you wear that rubber band?" Dr. Choi requested, hoping to dispel the tension in the air.

Chin-Hwa was known for his unbreakable silence. So, in his typical style, he merely held out his wrist and snapped the rubber band against it several times.

"Right," Dr. Choi affirmed, "Chin-Hwa uses his rubber band to cause a very small amount of pain to his wrist. It brings him back to the present moment because pain is a very good way of reminding us that we are alive."

"Oh, God, I feel so alive right now," scoffed Daeshim, whose name meant "the greatest mind." It was clear that he believed his name was an appropriate moniker because he never missed an opportunity to prove his mental superiority through snark. "I don't even know why I'm here. You are all complicating this issue unnecessarily. It's very simple. If you don't want to think about something, you just don't do it. One must have control over one's own mind," he opined. "Clearly, you all are incapable of dominating your own minds," he scolded, rubbing his hand over his prematurely balding head.

Dr. Choi did something he rarely resorted to doing. He interrupted Daeshim's diatribe. "We all appreciate your insights," he began, "but it's very important to remember that attacking our own thoughts is rarely helpful. Let them float through like fluffy clouds in a blue sky." "Actively fighting our thoughts just gives them more importance. Instead, let's not take them too seriously. Let them float on by," Dr. Choi suggested dreamily, eliciting another eye-roll from Baek-Hyeon.

Group could not have ended soon enough for Clara who had grown tired of the toxic masculinity in the room. She hurried back to her room and curled up under her covers. She felt overwhelmed by the thought that her dreams were being held hostage by this disease. How could she go to China when she could barely keep it together in Korea? How could she expect to get married and have kids if every loud noise sent her reeling into another episode? She thought of Mark and his tender vigils by her bedside. He seemed willing to sit with her difficult feelings. But was she willing to let him do it? Willing or not, she couldn't deny that she needed him. It was a feeling she did not enjoy. Needing people was extremely dangerous because people were so fickle and unreliable.

Even still, Clara was unable to stop the deluge of thoughts about Mark from coming into her head. She remembered what it had felt like to be in his arms and how soft his lips were when they had touched hers. She rolled up in a ball and pictured Mark wrapping his arms and legs around her and holding her close as he kissed her forehead, her ears, her neck.... Perhaps it was escapism, but Clara didn't care. Something about thinking about Mark numbed the pain of lying alone in a strange bed. She imagined his fingers wound into her mass of black curls and the sound of his heartbeat as she lay with her head against this chest. She breathed in the scent of him in her mind. She imagined him smelling like mint and bamboo, refreshing and alive. In her mental picture, she saw his hands leave her hair and run down her back, finally resting on her waist. His breath seemed to come more quickly now as he reached his hands around to her buttocks.

Suddenly, Clara's phone rang. "Mark," she answered breathlessly.

"Hey, did you run to catch the phone?" he asked, concerned at her shortness of breath.

"No," she said. "I was just thinking about you, and you took my breath away," she admitted.

"Wow," Mark answered. "If thinking about me takes your breath away, imagine what I could do in person," he joked.

"I have no doubt," Clara affirmed. "You got me good."

"Ditto," Mark replied. "I guess tonight's gonna be another one of those sleepless nights," he bemoaned. "Hurry up and get out of there," he added.

"Trust me," Clara replied. "I'm working on it."