10 13 | p.jm [two] √

10 13

"Mother, can I have some painkillers?" Jimin asked timidly. "The cabinet." was her reply. Jimin quickly went to the cabinet and got out some pills, swallowing them dry. It was a habit that he has developed all these years since he turned into an object.

"I'll be going out." he said. "And I'll be back." he promised her when she sat up in alert. "I'm just out, walking near the sea." he added, for good measure. He didn't want her to know what he was up to. Never, or else he'll be dragged back to this hell he wanted to run so badly from.

He walked all the way to the beach, and started heading to find an isolated part of the beach. He wanted to be alone, utterly alone.

He tossed his phone to the side as he squatted on the sand. His fingers reached out to fiddle with the soft, cool sand. He held it up, and it pooled on his fingers for a while before vanishing back down to join the other sand. He lifted his head up to look at the sea. Its breeze caressed his cheek, so warm. So inviting, like family. Come join me, it seemed to be saying.

He stood up and kicked of his shoes. Taking off his shirt, the scars are left to the air. It stung as the air touched, but Jimin was already numb to the excruciating pain.

Will you accept me, even if I am this way?

He walked towards the tide, pulling back and forth against the sand as each wave rolled in. His pants were getting soaked, he vaguely registered as he walked in further and further.

The waves were beating against him, teasing him to come catch them. His hands shot out to grab them but he always missed.

Plop. His head went under. He didn't resist, and let himself slowly sink down. He didn't want to fight for his life, because he had enough. That short period of freedom he tasted was enough.