Night | Minsung

1

Han Jisung woke up to his annoying alarm clock every single day. He dreaded the sound. He wished he could just go to bed one day, and never wake up again.

He rolled over on his stomach to turn the alarm off, forgetting the thing he does to himself every night. His thigh pressed against his mattress, sending shockwaves of pain throughout his entire body.

"Fuck!" He whisper yelled through his teeth. Silly Han forgot he went deeper then when he cuts on the other nights. Blood started to slowly seep out of the cuts again, making the boy have to run to the bathroom to hop in the shower.

He ran through the hallway, and he entered the bathroom. He turned on the water, waiting for it to warm up a bit while he undressed himself. The fabric of his pajamas ever so slightly brushed against the leaking crimson lines on his leg, making him cry out.

He finished undressing himself and hopped in the shower. He sat down on the bathtub floor and let the lukewarm water cleanse his cuts. They were stinging terribly, but he delt with it. He told himself that they had to be clean. If he got an infection from not taking care of them, he'd have to tell his mom, which means opening up, which means the hospital.

Han's mom didn't joke about mental health. She had a best friend in high school that killed herself, and she's been advocating for mental health ever since. And she would send her son to a mental hospital for him to get better.

Thankfully, Han's mother left for work before he woke up every morning, so he has able to scream at the pain coursing through his thigh.

He stayed in the tub until he became light headed from the pain. Maybe not the pain. Maybe because he barely eats. The last time he ate was 2 days ago, and he only ate a poutine from the school cafeteria, when Felix asked if he was okay, and he had forced himself to eat so Felix could have some peace of mind.

He got up and yelled out another cry as his cuts stretched out, before he stepped out of the tub and onto the shower mat. He wiped his feet so he wouldn't slip on the floor, and then walked over to the cabinet. He bent over and grabbed a towel. He rubbed his black hair dry, and then wiped his body dry with the large fluffy gray cloth.

He sat down on the toilet before he dabbed at his cuts. He then reached back in the cabinet and grabbed a strip of bandage and antiseptic spray. He spritzed the spray, muffling his loud screams with his hand. He then wrapped his thigh with the bandage.

Han's eyes glanced at the counter and he saw his anxiety medication he's supposed to take. He decided against it, not liking the way it makes him feel, numb.

He walked back out to his room and slid his closet door open. He pushed clothes hangers of sweaters and shirts to the slide, looking for the perfect sweater. He came across a black sweater with a random graphic on it and tossed it to his bed. He then looked through his pants that were organized in cloth compartments.

He found some baggy jeans and put them on  carefully, not wanting to disrupt his wounds. He then put on the sweater, and he found some socks and slipped them on. He walked to the front door, pulling his shoes on, grabbed his coat, and head out the door, ''ready'' for school.