Twisted Desires

8. Don't Go Insane

Note 💌: Proud of this

Hanni was totally zoned into her phone that night, and it got Minji wondering what the buzz was about. When Minji woke up to find Hanni gone and a note on the fridge wrapped up like a crime scene with caution tape (seriously, that was the only tape Minji had), she faced a real dilemma. Should she resist the urge to snoop and respect Hanni's privacy? But then she hit pause and thought, "When have I ever been the poster child for privacy respect?" With a mischievous smile,

Minji tiptoed down the hallway, slipping into Hanni's room. The first thing that caught her eye was the neatly made bed – a strange sight. Curiosity escalating, she dropped to her knees, scouring the floor beneath the bed, only to find nothing. Dismissing the possibility that Hanni could be that careless, Minji's investigative instincts kicked in.

With a keen eye, Minji scanned the room and, with a playful grin, nudged Hanni's cheek. A mischievous glint filled her eyes as she spotted a blue duffle bag perched on top of the closet. Swiftly and effortlessly, she retrieved the bag, peeking inside. To her surprise, she found an assortment of seemingly ordinary items – but the abundance of kidney beans raised an eyebrow. Amidst the cans, a note caught her attention, and as her eyes skimmed its contents, they widened with a mix of shock and realization.

Reggie's always had a smart mouth.

"She's awake," he uttered with a measured tone, punctuating the tense air. In a surge of anxiety, Hanni propelled herself upright, brushing past Reggie as if he were a mere wraith.

Approaching the bedside, the room unveiled a tableau of despair. Hanni's mother, once vibrant, a long time ago , now lay shrouded in the frailty of illness. The ravages of sickness had sculpted her features into an almost unrecognizable mask of vulnerability. The makeshift bed, a cold island in the sea of uncertainty, cradled her weakened form.

Reggie, a stoic figure in this silent drama, reappeared with a glass of water, placing it gingerly on the bedside table. "Hanni," her mother's voice emerged weakly, a mere whisper that struggled to navigate the currents of ailment. Hanni, her heart a symphony of emotions, nodded, a flicker of relief coursing through her at the recognition in her mother's eyes.

The details of how Hanni arrived at this somber juncture eluded her fragmented memory. Yet, amid the palpable tension, she pressed on with a determination born out of filial love. "How are you?" Hanni's inquiry hung in the air, pregnant with concern. Her mother, attempting to form words, was interrupted by a chesty cough, a cruel reminder of the merciless grip of sickness. A sigh escaped Hanni's lips as she handed the glass of water to her struggling mother.

Turning away from the bedside, Hanni sought solace in a brief exchange with Reggie. The unspoken understanding passed between them as she motioned to step outside, leaving behind the intimate struggle within the sterile confines of the room.

Hanni's eyes narrowed as she observed the state of the person in question. "She hasn't been looking any better," she remarked, a subtle edge in her voice. Reggie, attempting to pacify the situation, chimed in, "It takes time."

"It's been six months," Hanni retorted, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I knew she'd be better with us." The words slipped from her lips, barely audible, as if carrying the weight of her expectations.

Reggie, sensing the tension, opened his mouth to speak, but Hanni swiftly silenced him. "Don't start," she warned, a command that surprisingly held weight with Reggie. He listened, a rarity in their dynamic.

Hanni, ever persistent, focused on the crucial matter. "How long has she been taking that medicine?" she demanded. Reggie scoffed dismissively. "That medicine is poison," he declared confidently.