mental. ➳ yerene

03

There was a sound of heels click-clacking against the cold tile flooring as its owner made her way toward wherever she needed to be. She was pretty short (just don't say that to her face), with black hair curled at the tips and bangs swept to the side of her forehead.

As it turned out, the woman was heading for the top floor of the hospital—the psych ward, as some might call it. White, wooden doors lined the hallway neatly, and at the very end lay a room that was not so much of a ward as a clinic of sorts, guarded by two security guards.

She flashed her ID card, on which a 'Son Seungwan Wendy' was written, and the guards opened the doors to reveal the spacious room inside. A girl was sitting with her back facing Wendy, just in front of a polished oak desk. She was so small that one might wonder why a girl this innocent would be in a psych ward of all places—but looks can be deceiving.

Wendy made her way behind the desk and seated herself on the chair. She took a closer look at her next case and analysed every detail of her face—from the scared ombre eyes on the brink of tears to the young, wrinkle-less face framed by black locks of hair tucked behind her ear. She was obviously confused and quite severely out of place here, but she would not have been sent here without reason, so Wendy got to work.

Multiple Personality Disorder, her file read. That explained a lot.

"Yerim, is it? But your parents call you Yeri?" she asked, tapping her pen lightly against the desk. Yeri nodded fearfully, keeping her head down.

"There's no need to be scared, Yeri-ssi. Your sister only sent you here because she was worried about you. I'm just going to ask a few questions, and if you don't want to answer, you don't have to, okay?"

Yeri glanced up for a second before lowering her head again and nodding.

Wendy smiled warmly at the younger girl. "Good. Now tell me, Yeri-ssi, do you ever have periods of time when you can't remember what you were doing at all?"

"Y-yes..." Yeri squeaked out, raising her head. "Like sometimes I'm studying at night and I blank out, and... and when I'm back I'm in the kitchen or something with a... a knife."

Wendy furrowed her eyebrows. That meant that Yeri's second personality wasn't the friendly kind, especially since her local hospital has written in the file that it would sometimes smash furniture. Yeri saw Wendy's expression, and the tears finally came out, probably from the sheer stress of it all.

"It's okay, there's no need to cry," Wendy cooed, patting Yeri's hand. "Could you just tell me if you had any traumatic experiences as a child?"

Yeri sniffled, wiping away tears. "Uhm... I guess there was the time when my dad used to beat me up as a kid..? But that doesn't matter anyway, does it, ma'am?"

Wendy had to control the urge to cry out that abuse was a big deal. Instead, she opted to gently tell Yeri that yes, it does matter, and that you can call me Wendy.

"Don't be scared, Yeri-ssi. You know what? You're pretty confused, I can tell, so how about we stop today's session and you can go home for a bit and rest? I'll tell you again when you need to come back."

Yeri looked at Wendy for a full thirty seconds before mustering the strength to smile and walk out the door.

As soon as she left, Wendy began to scribble notes in the file.

possibly psychotic.