𝒐𝒐𝒐. "I didn't write this to forget who I am as a person nor did I write it for money out of desperation. I wrote this because I know, one day, someone will find this story in the corner of a library, squeezed between forgotten stories with a dus...
Song Mingi. November 29th, 1980. | Saturday, It's 10:45. WARNING: Mention of suicide, self-harm. This chapter goes between flashbacks and reality.
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Mingi staggers behind the short, black-haired nurse, his bare feet cold from the light blue tiled floors, and arms breaking out into goosebumps from the chilly air. His head hung low, swaying from his staggering movements as it was merely weighed down from the thundering cloud hanging over his head. His grandmother held her arms as she watched her grandson walk behind the nurse before disappearing behind the white double doors.
"Will he be okay?" She asked the nurse at the front desk, dropping her shaky hands from her arms. "He's going to be okay, right?"
The nurse smiles, sweet and feigned, tipping her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. "Yes, ma'am. Your grandson is in good hands, we will call you on his release date."
She nods shortly, her lips forming into a thin line as her eyes flicker back to double doors where Mingi had walked through. "Okay. Thank you."
Whispers echo near his ears, giggling and chatting, but he ignores it. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but it wasn't like he wanted to have a conversation with them; it wasn't worth it. "This is your room," The nurse opens the heavy grey door, a noisy scrape across the blue floors caused the brunette to flinch, leaving black markings in its wake. "It's late, so please get some sleep."
Mingi steps into the eerily quiet room, his hospital robe brushing across the back of his calves. A tall shadow lingered in the darkest corner of the room, shoulders slumped similarly to how Mingi stood.
"Goodnight," The nurse closes the squeaky door, shutting its locks before her sneakers squeezed away from the door.
Mingi stood in the middle of the room, the moonlight seeping through the closed bar window, merely giving the door of the room a luminous nightlight. The shadow giggles in the corner, but Mingi ignores it; his slow staggered walks approaching the bed to the left of the room. The one he always takes.
No one was in the bed on the right of him, empty and untouched, as if no one has ever been in this room for decades. Most likely cold from the chilly air that seeped through the cracks of the closed, bar window. The shadow deliberately turned around, scrawled white eyes with a matching white smile stared at Mingi as he took a seat on the white bed.
"E..." The black shadow's shoulders slump as if it were taking a seat on a matching bed, but its smile never flattened.
Mingi blankly stares at the untouched bed across from him, which was closer to the lurking shadow in the corner of the room; its body distorted, hiding away from the human's eye. When was the last time Mingi was here? Sitting on this same white bed, wearing this same blue hospital gown with this hellish bracelet that taunted Mingi that he's not okay.
