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I sit in the white painted room, staring at the pale walls waiting for the nurse to come and get me

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I sit in the white painted room, staring at the pale walls waiting for the nurse to come and get me. If today goes well, I get to leave this prison and move on with my life, not worrying about nurses constantly checking on me, medication, therapy and counselling sessions.

I sit there tugging at my white crewneck, taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes, praying that I'll be let out. Soon enough there is a soft knock on the door and a nurse is coming in, telling me to follow her. I'm lead right through to the doctor's office and take a seat in front of the big desk. After a few minutes my regular psychologist is walking through the door and sitting behind the desk in front of me. 

She looks over the file in front of her as she takes her glasses off and takes a good look at me.

"Now Hoseok, I see that you've improved a lot over the past 2 months you've been with us" She begins to say. 

"Compliance with staff, takes medication as given, you're a model patient" She smiles at me. She places the folder down as takes her glasses off. 

"I'm happy now, I'm better" I say to her.

"Hoseok, are you really happy?" She asks.

"I'm smiling aren't I?" I say as I plaster on the biggest fake smile I can.

"Well looks like I can start the paperwork to discharge you then" She smiles as she starts signing a lot of sheets in front of her. The aged woman looks up at me and hands me a small card.

"In case things are getting bad again, you can call me on this number as well as the institute okay?" She smiles.

"You're free to go and pack up your things, and I'll organise I driver to take you home"

I get up, walking slowly back to my bleached room, feeling as numb as I was when I first got admitted here. I'm glad I can leave, but at the same time, I'm scared to go back into the real world. I pack what little things I was allowed - a book, a journal, some photographs. As I pack them into a small bag, one photograph falls out and as I pick it up a whole lot of feelings rushing into me. As I stare at the photograph, the one of me and her from her prom, my hand around her waist, kissing her check, the last time I saw her before it happened; I know what I have to do. I rip the photograph up and throw it in the bin as I walk out the door, following the driver who was waiting outside.

It's time to move on.



Here's the first part! kimyugyeoms  thankyou so much and I hope you enjoy this and anticipate more! I'm loving writing this :D

Happy // j.hsDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora