Gust of cold air swept all throughout the corridor sending chills all over my body. I hugged my knees placing it across my chest in order to keep myself warm. The absence of the light coming from the moon didn't helped at all.
Jimin sat beside me like a statue; the pattern of his breathing was the only evidence of him being alive. My mind was in deep debate upon considering his idea about running away from this hell. I couldn't trust him that much given that he was mentally unstable and the image of infinite medicines and needles seeping inside my flesh if by chance we failed in escaping was painful enough to picture out.
"I don't trust you." I uttered after breaking the silence engulfing the two of us.
Envisioning the face of my male nurse while poking needles on my arms was unbearable and I wouldn't want to take my chances. I once did broke the rule by deciding of choosing death all by myself which led me in the situation where I am now. I should've gotten bolder and daring right after but rather I've become a scaredy cat.
Awareness of death will make us live more intensely, Paulo Coelho once said. Dying was still a privilege for me but waiting for my breath to stop was comparable to a time bomb waiting for the its final countdown.
A heavy sighed broke my deliberation between life and death.
"I am not asking you to trust me..." he smiled almost making his eyes squint like a slit. "...trust is such an ambiguous word." He continued while he nibbled his lower lip.
"Then what do you want?" I asked fully distracted with his gesture. "Faith, I want your faith instead of trust."
He stood up, dusting off his pants and without any word he started walking away. His steps were slow and soft and his figure slowly fade as the darkness of the corridor embraced him.
Who would've guess that he was a schizo, he has his own unique way of transforming two synonymous words into a total opposite. Faith instead of trust seemed interesting.
…
Morning came and another day was being deducted in my life. Waking up every morning while doing arithmetic in my remaining life line became a hobby. As masochist as it seems, my daily routine worked that way.
I peeled the blanket off me, my assisting nurse came while holding a tray full of bottled capsules, placing it neatly at the bedside.
"Is it fine if I take my breakfast in the front yard?" I asked.
He furrowed his brows confused with my sudden request. It took him few more seconds before nodding in agreement.
"Thanks, I badly need to get some sunshine." I hopped down and wore my slippers. I was walking ahead while Yoongi trailed behind my back holding a silver tray with food and medicine inside it.
After choosing the spot near the grass lawn in which a mahogany tree was situated beside the bench I brought myself to sit and dug a deep breath. It wasn't that long that I haven't smell the air outside the institute but it felt like years being trapped inside the room with scent of antibiotics and ethanol all over it.
"I'll be back after you finish your breakfast to give you your meds, just call me if you need anything." He placed the tray carefully in front of me and slowly walked away going back inside.
Sometimes I wonder if all these people working here felt alienated. Working within the crowd filled with mentally unstable patients was nerve wrecking. They were normal people but in the eyes of the patients they were the odd ones; they were the peculiar.
I always believed that being crazy does not mean that you are suffering from some form of mental illness, it's just that you're unique and unusual from the crowd. People will brand you as freak and defective if you chose to be different and rebel against the norms.
In this society, being original and unique was never accepted immediately. Everything were programmed and set to be followed in orders. You love your opposite sex because it's morally appropriate; You love the person who you share with the same religion because it's upright; You respect the person of your own race because it's ethical.
You say that you live in a democratic country but truth tells that were still trapped in the shackles of living standard.
I was almost half done with my food when I felt that I couldn't stuff more inside my stomach so I decided to just stop. My eyes roamed around the yard trying to memorize every detail of it. My gaze suddenly froze when I noticed a familiar figure on my right side. He was looking blankly in the space and was so into it he didn't even realized that I was already walking near him.
"Jimin..." I called out and waited for him to respond but to my dismay he didn't even waste me a gaze. I went in front of him and waved my hand to get his attention but still his face was stoic. I tried looking straight onto his orbs but it was dark and empty.
"Jimin talk to me," placing my hands on his shoulder while shaking him didn't work at all. He was like a wax figure looking in the horizon.
"Jam! Don't disturb him..." a yell erupted from my back as I flinched and took my hands off his shoulder.
"How many times do I have to tell you that he won’t talk? You're wasting your time he won't even hear you." I gazed back to Jimin still oblivious with the tension between the nurse and I.
I looked at Nurse Min confused as he started to lead me back inside the building to take my meds, he looked tired and was quiet the whole time while I was still left dumbfounded. I was in deep though which made me utter the words I’ve kept in my head out loud.
"Who the hell talked to me last night?"
_____ ive reached my limit @TramLam138 ... see u next time ;;))
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