Bruises | l.mh

10

//yena

MY FINGER HOVERS OVER the delete button.

Should I? Should I delete Minho's contact?

I should. I don't want to talk to him, because I don't want to become friends. It's clear that he is interested in me in some way, and I'm not sure why, but he is. And if he's interested in even becoming my acquaintance, I can't let that happen. I can't let my guard down. I can't afford to be hurt by anyone else.

Besides, I don't want my mother finding out about anyone that I know. If I become friends with anyone, she'll find out about it. She'll make my life more of a living hell for it than it already is. She doesn't like when I have friends. I don't know why, but she just doesn't.

So, I should delete Minho's contact. That way, I won't text him. And if he texts me, I'll see it as an unregistered number and delete it immediately. We won't talk, I won't be in danger of him, and he won't be in danger of me.

But for some reason, I can't seem to hit the delete button.

I throw my phone onto my bed and slide down the wall so I'm sitting against it with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Minho is right. I don't have any friends. I've never really had any friends, out of fear of my mother reprimanding me and out of fear of someone finding out about my mother. So, I've closed myself off from the world. And that gets extremely lonely, I'll admit.

Minho wanting to be my friend...

It's actually kind of nice. If I became Minho's friend, I wouldn't feel as lonely.

But I couldn't become friends with him.

Could I?

No. I don't think so.

If I did ever become his friend, I would have to keep my secrets. I couldn't tell him about my mom. And I would have to keep him as far away from my mother as possible. And I could never talk to him while my mother is around.

Could I do that?

Probably.

But should I even risk it?

I look over at my phone lying face up on my bed.

What is the risk worth?

Possible friendship. Companionship. Being a little less lonely in this stupid world.

I get up and grab my phone, pulling up messages. I do my best to ignore the last message Minho sent me as I type up a new one.

Hey. I'm sorry about freaking out earlier. I just don't really understand this whole friend thing because I'm basically new at it. But, if you want to talk to me and since you've been making an effort to, I'd like to try again. Maybe we can start over and start talking? Sorry again about earlier.

I hit send before I lose the nerve.

I throw my phone back on the bed and move over to my window. I quickly open it and feel the cool breeze against my face. I take a few deep breaths of the cool air, relishing in the feeling of it against my face.

After a few moments, I close the window and turn back to my phone lying on the bed. I reach for it but abruptly stop as I hear a knock on my door.

"Yena!" It's my mother's voice. "Get out here right now!"

Great, what's she mad about now?

Hesitantly, I walk over to my bedroom door and open it. My mother is standing out in the hallway. She gestures for me to follow her so I do, and we go into the kitchen. She has me sit down at the kitchen table.

Ji-sub is sitting on the couch, paying no attention to us.

My mother stands in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks down at me, giving me a nasty look. "Do you know who I just got a call from? Your school. Do you want to know what they were calling me about?"

I don't say anything and don't look anywhere except at the table in front of me.

"They were calling about your detentions," my mother tells me. "They were calling because you've been to fourteen detentions in the last few weeks. Jesus Christ, Yena! That's detention almost every day. Every day! What the fuck is wrong with you? What is so wrong that you get detention almost every day? Why aren't you doing your homework? Are you getting into trouble with your teachers? Huh? What the fuck is going on with you?"

You.

"Huh? Do you want to fucking explain yourself?"

I keep my eyes down. "I... I just haven't been finishing my homework. I've been doing it, but sometimes there's just so much and I—"

"Bullshit," my mother spits. "You have all this time in detention, you don't do anything except sit in your room, and you don't have time for it? Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit. Why are you getting detention?"

"I told you, I didn't do my homework."

"No. Tell me the real reason you've been getting detention."

"That is the real reason!" I suddenly exclaim, looking up at my mother. "I don't do my homework because I hate coming back here! Even if I did my homework, you wouldn't be proud of me. It wouldn't even matter. You wouldn't care more about me, you wouldn't be less mad at me for something. You'll never be proud of me. You'll never love me. You'll always hate me."

My mother speaks through her teeth. "You ungrateful little bitch. I've given you a house, food, an education. You have so much that so many people don't have. And yet you're fucking upset about it? You ungrateful piece of shit."

She suddenly grabs me by the collar of my shirt, dragging me away from the kitchen and toward the bathroom.

There are already tears spilling over onto my cheeks as she throws me over the tub. Her fist connects to my back and I double over the edge of the tub, my breath caught in my throat.

"You're ungrateful!" She screams at me as her knuckles dig into my back over and over again. "This is what happens when you're ungrateful!"

No. This is what happens when your mother is nothing but a child-beating coward inside a cold, empty shell.

She stands up and shoves me further down onto the tub. The edge of the tub digs into my stomach. My back is aching from where she hit my skin, my muscles, my nerves.

"I expect you not to be so ungrateful from now on." My mother slams the bathroom door closed.

I turn around and sit against the bathtub. I lift my shirt up and press my back against the cold tub, feeling it at least somewhat soothe the stinging parts of my back. It's pretty much just a dull ache though, forming into bruises.

After collecting myself, I pull my shirt back down and stand up. I quickly leave the bathroom and go into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I glance at my phone on the bed.

Maybe Minho texted me.

I grab it and unlock it, seeing no new, unread messages.

And after everything, I start sobbing.