cursed⭐︎ᵐⁱⁿˢᵘⁿᵍ

eighteen

Disturbed by the noise, my eyes slowly started to crack open. I blinked a few times to adjust to the bright light over my head, surrounded by white walls that looked newly painted.

Where am I?

Oh, it was a hospital. I have failed again.

I tried to make as little noise as possible to avoid alerting the doctors nearby but failed miserably when I groaned whilst trying to sit on the hospital bed properly.

My eyes accidentally spotted a bag when they were exploring around. It wasn't mine. My brother's? Probably.

My whole body hurt. I felt nauseous, everything felt so tiring and I just wanted to go back to sleep. But my mind wouldn't let me do that.

Now I was finally sitting on the bed with my back resting on the wall that was supporting my half-dead body.

The room reeked of disinfectors, medicine, injections and I was all alone, there was no one else in the room besides me and the IV attached to my arm.

The sun was shyly glimpsing through the white half-opened curtains, a feeling of comfort washing over me.

I couldn't remember what happened. No matter how hard I thought about it. I shut my eyes tightly as I shook my thoughts away. I looked down at my wrists and suddenly remembered why I was here in the first place.

My fingers ghosted along the bandage that was hiding the fresh cuts.

How did I fail? How'd that happen? It was not deep enough, was it? it should've been. I wish it was. It will be next time.

I winced and shuddered from the sharp pain coming from the deeply vertical and horizontal carved lines on my wrist. I huffed out of annoyance as I heard the door creaking.

"Jisung.."

My eyes locked with my brother's which showed nothing else but worry and that's when I knew I fucked up. How could I ever do that to him? What was I thinking?

It happened again and I'm sure it will happen until it will work.

"I'm sorry." I teared up.

It was so overwhelming, the room felt suffocating, everything felt out of place and I regretted what I had done, like I always did.

Yet that didn't mean I was going to stop. Surely, one day I won't fail.

"I'm so sorry.."

The apologies kept on going for more than an hour as my brother held me tightly in his arms. I felt invulnerable, for the very first time after the traumatic experiences we had been through.

The nurse occasionally came in and asked how I was feeling. She persisted with questions that made me feel lowkey intimidated and powerless, I didn't like that in the slightest.

Then a doctor came in, he changed the bandages for the cuts and gently massaged them with some medicine cream. He told me they will most likely scar. I won't be avoiding them, no matter what happened. I didn't have time to heal my aching scars, I had to keep going with life. I had to tolerate it all, until my last breath.

I said this last time too.

The last time I relapsed, the last time I slowly dragged the cold blade on my already aching wrist, full of older wounds. The second to last time I attempted.

I felt hopeless. I felt like no one could heal me, even thinking about such a thing felt surreal.

Time had passed. I spent the whole day in the hospital room. Saturday passed too, the clock was going to hit midnight anytime now. My brother was still with me, even though I begged him to go home and rest.

"Where's my phone? What's Bbama doing?! Is he alone? Please, go.."

"Don't worry about Bbama, he's alright. I'll put your phone on the nightstand, you should rest for now."

"Fine," I mumbled, rolling my eyes. "thank you."

My eyes were starting to close, I was feeling dizzy. I wanted to sleep and wake up in another world, one in which I would finally be free, surrounded by happiness and lovely people.

Not by white, thin walls and a smell of hopelessness.

I laid back down, struggling. My brother spoke to me, he said something— but I couldn't understand his words. I was already halfway sleeping, trying my best to stay still so my arms wouldn't hurt.

Then I heard the door shut. It was probably the annoying nurse or my brother finally listened to me and left. That relieved me.

Shit.

Me and Minho were supposed to hang out this Saturday. Did my brother reach out to him? Did he tell him I can't? Did he tell him the reason?

I wanted to check my phone but I psychically couldn't. My body refused to move. My whole arm hurt whenever I moved it. I simply could not move.

I'll check it in the morning.

★

The night sky was like a giant black cloak and the stars were like sparkling grains of sand that washed up on its shores.

A window, placed right by the hospital bed was showing me freedom as the beautiful light of the white moon lit the room.

I looked down at my hands, then my wrist. The nerves had been severed and I could no longer feel the pain I once felt.

The pink and puffy that should have stayed red instead of sticking out now was going to definitely scar, the doctors were saying.

But those scars were a part of me. I was those cuts that were soon to be scars, feeling nothing but pride whenever the events would replay in my mind.

When I say sadness, what I mean is black hole inside me filled with broken glass, and burns, and blades, and knives, and blood, and despair and the people I don't have anymore.

Mother, father.

I'm sorry I failed once again.