Pieces Of Us

Chapter 11: A Program and a Crisis

Soobin sits at the dining table, tapping her fingers impatiently as she watches Haein bustling about in the kitchen. She finally breaks the silence, her tone half annoyed, half indifferent. “Mum, there's this school thing tomorrow. Parents are supposed to come. It’s... obligatory or whatever.” She rolls her eyes, making it clear she doesn’t care whether Haein attends or not.

Haein pauses, surprised but trying not to show it. “I’ll be there,” she says with a small smile, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest. This was the first time in a long while Soobin had mentioned anything about school or had even wanted her there, even if it was grudgingly. “What time does it start?”

Soobin shrugs, still looking at her phone. “Nine in the morning. Don’t be late,” she mutters, not bothering to look up. Haein nods, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. She wanted to make this right, make an impression, show Soobin she was still there for her, no matter what.

The next morning, Haein gets up early, carefully choosing an outfit that feels appropriate, elegant but not too formal. She glances at herself in the mirror, her hair slightly curled and hanging loosely over her shoulders. She takes a deep breath, feeling a slight pang in her head but dismissing it. She heads downstairs, glancing at the clock. She has a few hours before she needs to leave.

She sits at her desk, deciding to go through some paperwork before the event. But then, as she reaches for a document, the numbers and letters begin to shift again. The room tilts, and suddenly she is somewhere else entirely. She’s a child again, standing in her childhood bedroom. The sound of her mother’s voice calling her for dinner echoes in the air, even though she knows it's impossible. She blinks, trying to force the image away, but it only grows clearer. She looks down and sees her hands are small again, chubby like a child’s, clutching a stuffed toy she had long forgotten.

“No, not now…” she whispers, panic setting in. She knows what’s happening, another time slip, but this one is different—longer, more vivid. She feels herself being pulled deeper into the hallucination, unable to grasp reality. The clock on her desk ticks loudly, but it sounds distant, like it’s under water. Her heart races as she struggles to stay present, to remember where she is, what she needs to do.

Hours pass, and Haein remains trapped in the slip. The sounds of her childhood home, her parents’ distant laughter, the smell of dinner being cooked—everything is so real. She feels herself sinking into it, the edges of reality blurring further away.

Meanwhile, at school, Soobin is scanning the crowd for her mother, her face growing darker with each passing moment. She checks her phone again, annoyed and embarrassed. She knows Haein won’t come. Typical, she thinks. As the program progresses, she stops looking altogether, pretending not to care while irritation simmers under her skin.

Back at home, the sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the living room. Haein stands by the window, eyes blank, her hand gripping the curtain as if it might anchor her to the present. Her lips move slightly, mumbling words from long ago, a conversation with a person who isn’t there. Her face is pale, almost ghostly, as the hallucination tightens its hold, stretching minutes into hours.

When Soobin finally returns home, she throws her bag onto the floor, the sound echoing in the silent house. “Mum?” she calls, anger lacing her voice. She walks into the living room and freezes. Haein is standing by the window, staring out, unmoving, her expression distant, as if she’s looking at something a thousand miles away.

“Mum!” Soobin calls louder, stepping closer, but Haein does not respond. Panic flashes across Soobin’s face, and she rushes forward, shaking her mother's arm. “Mum, what’s wrong with you?” she asks, her voice rising in fear. Haein doesn’t even blink. It’s as if she can’t hear her, her eyes still lost in that faraway place, trapped in a memory that isn’t real.

Soobin feels her breath quicken, unsure of what to do. She shakes Haein again, harder this time. “Mum! Come back!” Her voice cracks, the anger gone, replaced by something she doesn’t want to admit—fear.

Haein’s lips move faintly, a soft whisper escaping. “It’s time for dinner, Mum... I’m coming...” Her words make no sense, spoken to a ghost only she can see.

Soobin's breath quickened, fear taking over. She shook Haein harder. “Mum, please!” Her voice cracked, a mix of anger and desperation. Nothing. It was as if Haein wasn’t there at all. Trembling, Soobin pulled out her phone and dialled 911, her fingers barely steady enough to press the numbers.

Minutes later, the paramedics arrived, moving quickly but calmly. They assessed Haein, who remained unresponsive but breathing steadily. "She’s in a state of dissociation," one of them said. "We need to get her to the hospital for further examination."

Soobin watched, her heart hammering in her chest as they lifted her mother onto a stretcher and carried her to the ambulance. She followed, biting her lip to keep herself from crying, confusion and fear swirling in her mind.

At the hospital, a doctor came to see her after what felt like an eternity. His expression was calm, almost too calm. “Your mother is stable,” he began. “She’s been experiencing a lot of stress, which seems to have triggered this episode.”

Soobin’s face tightened. “Stress? Are you serious? She was standing there like… like she wasn’t even alive!”

The doctor’s smile didn’t falter. “Yes, stress can manifest in unusual ways. Dissociation, trance-like states… But nothing serious. It’s best if she gets some rest and avoids stressful situations for a while.”

Soobin frowned, something about his words not sitting right with her. "That’s all it is? Just stress?” she pressed, trying to read his expression.

The doctor hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. “Yes, just stress,” he repeated, his tone steady. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of discomfort, that made Soobin pause. "Your mother told me beforehand that she’s been under a lot of pressure. She didn’t want you to worry.”

Soobin’s frown deepened. "So, she specifically told you this? To say it's just stress?" she asked slowly, doubt creeping into her voice.

The doctor nodded, too quickly. "Exactly. She’s just exhausted. We'll keep her here for a bit to monitor her, but there’s no need for concern.”

Soobin stared at him, sensing something wasn’t right. A lie. The word lodged in her throat, but she couldn't prove it, not yet. She glanced over at her mother through the window, still lying in the hospital bed, and felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Whatever was going on, it was more than what they were telling her. And she was determined to find out the truth..