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by CarmenKB

by CarmenKB

•WARNING! Slight mention of suicide! Can skip the italicized part to the next part if sensitive!•

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'He's gone, he's gone,' the woman cries, holding her face in her hands.

I sit next to her on the steps, watching as neighbors look at her with concern.

'I-it's okay, mom, it's okay,' I say before beginning to cry. It hurt so bad to see how hurt she was. The tears trailed down my cheeks as I hugged her to my chest tightly, just wanting the pain to end.

I couldn't get the image out of my head, seeing the body hanging there, just swinging slightly. It terrified me. It hurt me. Why would he do that?

I woke up with a gasp, feeling the lump in my throat. I sat up, covering my face with my hands. There was a deep pain in my chest, making tears prick the edges of my eyes. I let out a soft whimper, a tear sliding down my cheek. I took in a quick breath, feeling stupid that I was crying.

Shaking my clammy hands out, I wipe my face down and take in calmer breaths.

My nightmares had gone away for a bit. Everything felt like it was falling into a calmer pace, but suddenly a nightmare about him pops up. I hate my brain so much sometimes.

I get out of bed, popping my bones and stretching my legs. I ignore the messages on my phone and go to the bathroom. Turning on the sink, I scoop some water in my hand and splash my face, feeling the steamy oil fade away.

I jog down the stairs. "Morning mom," I greet, kissing her cheek and opening the fridge.

"Morning baby, your dad-"

"Still at work?"

She rolls her eyes and sighs, "where else?"

I roll my eyes as well, "at least we can watch a movie together without being interrupted."

"Nope, only interrupted by your comments about the actors or actresses being dumb," she teases, playfully bumping me with her hip as she sips her water.

"They are! Some directors make them dumb. I can't say all of them are dumb though. Just some. That's it," I defend, taking some yogurt out of the fridge.

"Whatever you say, darling," she grins, "what genre will it be today?"

I lean back against the counter, "hm, not horror or action. Maybe romance or drama? You choose. I always choose."

"That's because you know good movies."

"Okay, so far, this isn't that bad," I laugh, interrupting the girl on the soccer field while the guy is singing in the bleachers.

"Of course it isn't! This movie is an old one, but it's one of my favorite American ones. Even though that guy has some kind of English accent or speech impediment."

I bunch my eyebrows together, "yeah, I noticed that too. I can look it up-"

The doorbell rings, sending me to pause the movie and stand up.

"It's probably Minho. Don't worry, we'll finish the movie," I do a quick finger gun motion before heading for the front door.

My hand lands on the doorknob, twisting it open. "Min, what-"

The air is knocked out of my lungs when we make eye contact. My heart immediately sank, aching in pain. What the fuck.

"Hey."