Two-Sided Coin

Chapter 2

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the teacher, Mr. Choi, scolded in a deep, smooth voice. I subconsciously began tugging down the sleeve of my uniform.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly, bowing down low, then scurried off to my seat. Luckily, I got away with a mere click of Mr. Choi's tongue and a disapproving look before he began the lesson.

I got my things out as fast I could without drawing attention to myself, but unfortunately for me, I felt eyes burning into the back of my neck.

My wrists stung painfully, but it was nothing new so I even managed to write my notes down without a problem. As I was working my sleeve crept up my arm, allowing for an inch or so of my bandages to show, attracting the attention of even more students without me noticing.

"Hey, Taehyung," a voice hissed near my ear. I turned my head slightly to the right, looking over my shoulder to see one of my classmates, Hoseok (or JHope, as he liked to be called), leaning close to me, his whole body lying on top of his desk.

"Hmm?" I hummed, trying to focus on the teacher and him at the same time.

"What's on your wrists?"

I froze, my pencil dropping out of my hold, and blinked hard. My eyes went wide and I swallowed thickly.

"Uh, it's nothing," I answered quickly, hurrying to pull down my sleeves. I could practically hear him smirk, then his arm was suddenly on mine, tugging my sleeves up to my elbows.

"What are you doing?" I whisper-screamed in a state of panic, trying to get out of his hold. But he was strong, and by the time I got out of his grasp, he had had a long look at the blood-stained cloth wrapped around my wrists.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, quietly yet strongly and full of distaste, as he sat back down as to not draw Mr. Choi's attention, his body still bent forward to stay close. I shuddered, slowly lowering my sleeves, fixating my stare of a point of my desk.

I must have blacked out at that point. I'm not sure. I just know that the next thing I remember is the bell ringing and walking out of class with an unexplained limp. The back of my left leg hurt almost as much as my wrists and for some reason my head was throbbing. I decided not to question it, though I probably should have. I guess I just didn't want to make others worry by asking about it or getting help.

My arms stayed tightly wrapped around my books and my gaze stayed firmly glued to the floor. I was on auto-pilot, walking towards my next class without a single thought passing through my mind. It was something I learned over my 18 years of life - the ability to completely wipe my brain blank, yet managing to function.

"Ya! Taehyung!"

A familiar voice brought me back to life and I swiveled around to find the source. It only took me a second to spot the other cause of my impending doom: Jimin.

I didn't slow down when I found out who it was; I started walking faster. Keeping my gaze on the ground, I sped towards my next class, weaving through the steady stream of people going to other way.

"Ya! Kim Taehyung!" he yelled again, his voice fainter. I smiled slightly when I realized I was outrunning him and used up my last burst of energy to bolt into my class, practically falling down into my seat when I got to it. The other students have me weird looks but I just ignored them and got ready for my next class with a small smile on my face.

But luck just wasn't on my side today.

"Ya, Kim Taehyung. You should know better than to run away."

I suddenly couldn't move as a hand was placed on my shoulder. Jimin moved around to face me, a look of triumph on his baby face. He hit the table with his free hand, making me jump slightly, and tightened his grip on my shoulder with the other.

"Don't be afraid, Tae," he cooed, bringing up a hand to stroke my face. I shuddered.

Then it happened again.

It was happening more and more often lately, I noticed. I would black out for god knows how long, then I'd come to with unexplained bruises or cuts a few minutes, or even hours, later.

It really was frustrating, trying to piece together what had happened. That's why I usually didn't even try and just let it go.

This time when I gained consciousness, I was in the hallway, sitting on the floor with my back against the wall. The metallic taste of blood was in my mouth and I hurt all over. On any other day, I would have gotten up, brushed myself off, and went to my next class. But this was different. My legs was sore for some reason and wouldn't cooperate. My head was spinning and pounding. The front of my shirt felt wet, but I didn't have the energy to check with what. It felt like lead was coursing through my veins instead of blood and I couldn't get myself to stand. So I didn't.

I sat in the empty hallway, listening to the class going on just behind the wall I was leaning against. I don't know how long I sat there before the sudden realization of what was going on hit me. I was sitting in the hall, beat up, and class was going to be dismissed any second. I sprang to my feet, gritting my teeth as my head spun and fresh blood began gushing from my nose. Cursing under my breath, I stumbled in the general direction of the nearest bathroom, silently thanking god when I managed to make my way inside and lock the door behind me.

The first thing I did was throw up. Seconds after the door closed, my stomach churned and I was kneeling in front of the toilet, my shaking arms leaning on the seat and my head in the bowl, my shoulders heaving. I was weak and I sat there, curled around the toilet, for a good five minutes before I could move without waves of nausea knocking me off of my feet. I finally flushed and stood, walking slowly up to the mirror, and felt sick once more at the sight.

Now, I know I didn't look great that morning, but this was a whole new level of mess.

My face was paler than usual with dark bruises decorating one of my eyes and my jaw. My hair was all over the place and a small trickle of blood was coming down my forehead and disappearing into my left eyebrow. My bottom lip was split and blood was flowing from my nose, the front of my uniform already red and wet with it. The sleeve of my shirt was ripped at the seams and hanging by only a thread. It was terrible.

The ear-splitting sound of the bell pulled me out of whatever trance I was in. Carefully, I slipped off my jacket, then my dress shirt, and folded them, setting them down on the floor. With trembling hands, I turned on the water and began washing off the light splash of blood that had soaked through my clothes and onto my chest. I went on to wash my face and even my hair and by the time the late bell rang for the next class I was actually cleaner than I had been in a few weeks. The only problem was I had to make it out of school either in blood-stained clothes or half-naked. Fantastic.

I sighed, lethargically crouching down near my clothes to inspect them further. The jacket (which costed my week's pay) I deemed unwearable and just moved to the side, but I still wanted to wear something. So I picked up the shirt, wrinkling my aching nose at the drying blood, and began washing as much of it out as I could.

What felt like an hour later, but was in reality not more than ten minutes, I had done my best and was wringing out the pink water from my shirt. It was damp and still stained, but it was much better than before.

I slipped it on, smoothing down the front, and picked up my ruined jacket. I decided to keep it; maybe I could repair it at home.

Silently, I peeked my head out of the bathroom and looked both ways down the hall. Coast clear. Keeping my head bowed, I speed-walked towards the nearest exit, sighing with relief when I wasn't caught. Now just another mile home and I'll be safe.