“How long has it been?”

“Thirty-two hours.”

“Thirty-two hours?! The doctor said her condition will be stabilised after twenty-four hours! Why is she still not waking up?”

"She'll wake up eventually, Mrs Son. Don't worry. Her heartbeat's steady. Maybe she's just tired. Give her a bit more time."

Wendy doesn't even have to open her eyes to know where she's currently residing. The sharp scent of disinfectant lingering in the room and the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor are dead giveaways. She recognises the frantic in her mother's voice, and the calmness in Irene's voice. She presumes her father is probably around as well. Still keeping her eyes closed, Wendy forces herself to go back to sleep. She doesn't want to deal with her parents, or Irene right now.

She doesn't know how long she has slept, but when she finally stirs from the depths of her sleep, a familiar doctor was the first to greet her.

“Good evening, Wendy.”

Wendy raises her eyes, expecting to see the flash behind Irene’s eyes that signified disappointment, but all she sees is warmth in the dark brown orbs.

“Wendy,” Irene says, “how are you feeling?”

“I… don’t know,” the brunette responds honestly, her gaze falls.

“A stranger managed to save you before you actually drown. You’re lucky he knows CPR.”

Wendy keeps her gaze down as she doesn’t dare to face Irene. Silence, soft as quilt, settles between them. The brunette hears a heavy sigh from her psychiatrist, and she feels even worse.

Her mind spins with all sorts of dramatic possibilities.

Is Irene giving up on her? Is she going to pass her to another psychiatrist? Will she be checked into the psychiatric ward for further observation?

“Why Wendy, why?” Irene sounds so upset that Wendy instantly feels sorry for the psychiatrist. She is probably the one and only smear on Irene’s otherwise flawless patient record.

“Are you disappointed in me?” Wendy asks meekly, as she looks up at Irene.

“Of course not Wendy.” I thought I was going to lose you. “Are you having those thoughts again?”

Wendy closes her eyes and Seulgi’s words spring into her head. Those words play on a loop in her head, pounding with unceasing rhythm against her skull. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to force some clarity of thought through the spongy mess that is her brain.

"Do you want anything to eat Wendy?" Irene asks. She doesn't want to pressurize the younger girl into telling her anything, yet.

"Ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Irene raises an eyebrow. "That's the first thing you want to eat after sleeping for forty hours?"

"Hey, this country practices democracy, remember?" Wendy quips.

"Of course," Irene chuckles. A wave of relief washes over her. "Your parents are downstairs. They went to have dinner. I'll come back right up with them."

"Oh."

"Don't worry Wendy. They're not going to ask you anything. That's my job, remember?"

The brunette's muscles relax a fraction and a small smile crosses her face. "I want vanilla ice cream."

"Sure. I'll get the doctor to check on you," Irene informs Wendy before she exits the room.

Seconds later, a female doctor saunters in and checks on Wendy's condition. Awed by the doctor's beauty, Wendy asks, "Are you loved by many patients?"

"Hmm?" The doctor writes something on the clipboard before her eyes guide themselves to Wendy. "What were you saying, Miss Son?"

"Do you have a lot of admirers," Wendy sneaks a glance at the tag attached to the doctor's uniform. Im Yoona. "-Dr Im?" she finishes, her eyes travelling up to meet the doctor's gaze.

"Yeah," Yoona lets out a small laugh. "They give me cards and letters before they get discharged."

"Do you like the attention?"

"I don't like the spotlight, but it's really nice to know that the work you're doing is appreciated by many."

"So you become a doctor just to get recognition?"

The blunt remark caused Yoona to be taken aback. "Well," she replies after regaining her composure, "now I know what Doctor Bae means when she says you have an inquiring mind."

"Do you find it weird?" Wendy asks, jumping to another topic.

"What's weird?"

"That her surname's Bae."

Yoona laughs. Her eyes gleam with amusement. "Honestly, I guess it's weird. But her surname has always been Bae before that internet slang even exists."

"The internet slangs are a bunch of oddness," Wendy muses.

"Is it?"

Wendy grins in reply. The door swings open, and in come her parents and Irene.

"May I speak to Miss Son’s parents?” Yoona asks politely.

“I’m here,” Mr Son informs, approaching the doctor.

“Shall we speak outside?”

“Sure.”

Mrs Son follows, as she’s curious to know what the doctor is going to say. When the door quietly shuts, Irene walks to Wendy and hands the brunette her vanilla ice cream.

“You’ll be transferred to the psychiatric ward, Wendy.”

“I saw that coming,” the brunette mutters under her breath after taking a spoonful of her ice cream.

“One week, Wendy. I’ve already informed your parents about it.”

Wendy watches a flock of birds scatter into the air, weaving across boundless blue sky. She sees them flutter and soar, her heart lifting as they fly far away, gradually disappearing into the distance.

Her eyes slowly travels to the people within her view. All decked in white outfits. Such unity. It’s her third time here. The first time she came here was when her suicidal tendencies and auditory hallucinations were at their peak. It had been hell. The hell in her head was worse than the hell that she was in. She had to stay for almost a month in the institution.

However, contrary to popular belief, the mental institution isn’t a scary place. Most of them minded their own business. Everyone has their own struggles.

Everyone. Not just the mentally ill people.

Wendy still can’t wrap her head around the way brains are wired, or how society has to put a label on everything.

‘She’s anorexic.’ ‘He’s gay.’ ‘She’s a single parent.’ ‘He’s a goner.’

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