Hold Me Tight

Time

Time.

 A structure we have created to handle our few short-lived days correctly. But, the definition of 'correctly' varies from person to person. Some may prefer to live life to the fullest and using their years on this world to do what they love. But others wish to stick to the more conservative route; a lifestyle in which society has encourages everyone to live by since the creation of civilisation. This conception of 'time being precious' has been forced down our throats since the day of birth, and unknowingly, the idea starts to disperse into the back of our minds as we grow older, only to be piece back together at the very end.

"Serena?"

It seems as though when the time we do have on Earth is written in lonely numbers, we start to open our eyes of our life, as if it is already over – our achievements, our mistakes and our regrets.

"I need every night staff in this ward! Somebody move this man out of the patient's room!"

I only have a limited time on this Earth.

"SERENA!"

And I wish to spend it how I please.

The whispering of the strident machines, the rattling of the plastic curtains and the stench of anti-bacterial gel that lingered in every corridor – all things I grew accustomed to. I was in a place of familiarity that burned into my memory long ago and has since left a scar which fails to heal - Busan Paik Hospital.

"May I help you, sir? Do you need directions?"

"No, no. I'm fine."

I've lost count how many days I've been lying on this hospital bed – blind, motionless and scared. I am in a doze in which I can't wake up and never will wake up from. I am locked in the dark caverns which my tortured mind playing the accident again and again. The vision of the incident becomes more and more vivid every time my mind slowly touches upon the memories that are still newly made wounds. The only thing to heal me...

"Did you miss me?"

Was him.