Bruises | l.mh

05

//yena

MY MOTHER MUST BE in her room when I get home, because I see her purse on the counter but I don't see her anywhere.

I do my best to avoid her by quickly going into my bedroom and shutting the door. I change out of my school uniform into leggings and a yellow sweater. I go over to my desk and see my markers lying there.

Sometimes when I'm angry or upset, I take my markers and draw all over my skin. It's mostly just lines on my forearms. Sometimes I draw little flowers, but it's mostly lines. It's therapeutic, somehow.

But I don't feel like drawing right now. I open up my laptop and put some of my favorite music on at a low volume. I look through my desk until I find a good book. I sit on my bed and pick up where I left off in the book.

I don't get through much of it.

A knock comes from my bedroom door and then a voice, seconds later.

"Yena? Can you clean your bathroom? It's fucking gross."

I let out a sigh.

"Yena? Did you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I wait until she leaves before I turn my music off on my computer. I pull up the music on my phone, put my earbuds in, and pocket my phone.

I leave my bedroom and get the cleaning supplies out of the closet. I go into the bathroom and clear off the counter before I start wiping everything down.

The bathroom isn't that dirty. My mother just wants to put me to work.

I finish the counter, mirror, and bathtub before moving on to the worst part: the toilet. It's not even that bad, I just hate cleaning toilets. But I do it anyway, until it's almost a spotless white. Once I'm finished, I look around at the bathroom at my handiwork.

But then I notice the toilet paper holder is empty, and there's no toilet paper hanging on the hook. I look under the counter to see if I have any extra, but I can't find any.

I had some this morning. Where did it all go?

"Looking for something?"

I jerk my head to the right and see my mother standing in the doorway. She's holding a small glass of some kind of alcohol, a smug look on her face.

"The toilet paper," I answer quietly.

"Oh, yeah, I took that." She takes a sip of her drink. "Ji-sub and I ran out so I took yours. Sorry. You're gonna have to figure out how to go without it, I guess."

She chuckles as she walks away, back toward her own bedroom I'm sure.

I want to scream, but that wouldn't do any good.

Instead, I put all my cleaning supplies away. I grab my small backpack and slip my shoes on, making sure my keys are in my pocket.

I leave the house and move toward the small convenient store down the road that sells essentials.

The air is chilly as the sun is setting and I kind of wish I brought a jacket. But I get into the store quickly, where I am greeted with warm air.

There isn't anyone else in here that I can see, beside the cashier at the front. He's flipping through a magazine, looking bored.

I make my way through the store until I get to the bathroom essentials. I find the pack of toilet paper I want and begin making my way back toward the front. I pass the makeup aisle and see someone down there.

I stop abruptly, recognizing the person down there. Recognizing the hair.

He's looking through the foundations. I see a small, black and blue bruise on the left side of his jaw.

I think he somehow figures out I'm looking at him, because he suddenly looks up at me, making eye contact.

"Hi," I say meekly.

He glances at the toilet paper in my hands. "You're here for toilet paper?"

"Um, yeah," I answer. "And you're getting makeup?"

He grabs a foundation bottle—that isn't even the right shade—and starts to walk out of the aisle.

"Wait, that's not the right shade," I call to him.

He stops, but he doesn't turn around. He looks down at the foundation in his hand.

I move over to the foundations, looking through the liquid foundations and the powders. "Can I see your hand? I can match you skin tone and get you the right shade."

He doesn't say anything but moves back over to me. He puts his hand out so I hold foundations against his hand. Once I find one I think matches, I use the tester and put some on the back of his hand. This is the right one.

I hand him the liquid foundation and then I grab a small powder in the same shade. I hand him that too, taking the other foundation from him. "These two match your skin tone. Use the liquid one first, and then blend it with a small makeup sponge, or something. And then add some of that powder—you don't have a brush, do you?"

He stares at me, not responding.

"Anyway, if you have a brush, just put some of that powder on and then blend it over the liquid foundation. You'll probably need to get a brush for the powder if you don't have one. It should look pretty natural, if you do it right."

I turn away from him and start heading back toward the front.

"Wait, which brush am I supposed to get?"

I move over to the brushes, picking out the right one for powder. I grab a small makeup sponge too and had both to the guy. "There's the brush and the sponge. They're the cheapest ones, so you can get a different one if you want, but they should do the trick."

"How do you know all this stuff?" He asks.

I look down at my shoes, not wanting to make eye contact with him. "I, uh... I just assumed you were gonna use it to cover that bruise on your jaw. I know how to cover bruises."

We stand there awkwardly for a moment.

"What's your name?"

I finally look up into his eyes. "Yena."

"Yena. I'm Minho."

I give him a small smile. "See you later, Minho."

I leave him in the makeup aisle and go to checkout.