“HOW’S MY SON, DOCTOR?” A brunette chin length hair woman in her thirties unclasped her hands from her husband's then stood abruptly from the stainless chairs, which her husband and she have been occupying for the past two hours when the doctor, or the psychiatrist to be exact, came out. His husband followed suit. The middle-aged man with slick grey hair closed the door behind him and cleared his throat while flipping his note.

           "Well, Mrs. Hong, your son is experiencing a pretty bad PTSD, sadly, and a suicide attempt is one of its outcomes..."

           "PTSD?" Mr. Hong frowned.

           "Post-traumatic stress disorder is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event. Many people who go through traumatic events have difficulty adjusting and coping for a while, but they don't have PTSD. With time and good self-care, they usually get better. But if the symptoms get worse or last for months or even years and interfere with their functioning, that person may have PTSD." The psychiatrist explained while scribbling something, clearly showing disinterest to the couple.

           "Yes, I do know what PTSD is. However, doctor, we waited for hours just to get this piece of bull? I think your diagnosis is wrong. My son isn't sick. He isn't suffering some unclear mental problems!" Mr. Hong took the psychiatrist's note and tossed it aside. The psychiatrist sighed and rolled his eyes before picking up his note.

           "Then, what will you say if you find someone who keeps hallucinating unconsciously then screaming frantically as if he sees something paranormal, and hurting himself by cutting his wrist or hang himself?"

           Mr. Hong was at a loss for words. The psychiatrist snickered.

           "Judging from your son's attempt to do exsanguination and suffocation plus some 'irrational' hallucination, I say it's a positive sign of PTSD." 

           The woman gasped, "I-is there any cure for...PTSD?"

           "As with most mental illnesses, no cure exists for PTSD, but the symptoms can be effectively managed to restore the affected individual to normal functioning. It's suggested not to stress the child overly. Spend some time together and let the child expresses himself. No matter how delusional he is, do not laugh it off. Just listen to what he says then showers him with affection. And, please, keep the child away from any object or person that can make him remember his trauma of his dead grandfather. I'm afraid his trauma can cause another trouble like fear of death, especially someone who's precious to him,"

           "...Alright, doc. Thank you very much,"

           "For Jisoo's case, I wish you all the best."

***

           "NOOO!" A sharp screaming broke the silence of the night. The door was slammed hastily.

           "What?! What happened?!" Mrs. Hong came, bewildered.

           When she saw her son curling up in bed, sobbing, she smiled weakly. She approached the afraid figure then sat not too far for him on the bed.

           "It's okay. Mommy's here." She rubbed her son's back tenderly.

           "If- if only Pa didn't protect me....He..."

           "Shh..." She pulled her son into a warm hug.

           "Jisoo, my sweetest honey bunny, it's not your fault, dear."

           "But, I've....killed grandfather!" The cry got louder.

           "No! That's not true, dear. Father did that on his own will. He wants you to be alive!" 

           "But still, mom..." She wiped the tears off her son's face.

           "Shh, listen son, what happened is the past. Your father and I didn't regret about that horrible accident. Indeed, we are heartbroken for losing father from this world, however, we are also grateful that you're still here, well and healthily."

            "...Is that true, mom?"

           "Of course, dear. You are our most beloved treasure in this world."

           Under the dim moonlight that shone through the window, Jisoo could feel he was seeing the most beautiful smile in his whole life. He knew his mother meant it. 

           "Thanks, mom."

           "No problem, dear. Now, go to sleep. Tomorrow we'll have so much fun in the amusement park. You don't wanna waste your energy before that, do you?" Jisoo shook his head furiously.

           "Good. Have a sweet dream, Jisoo."

           "You too, mom." Jisoo crawled back into his blankets then Mrs. Hong his cheek and kissed his forehead.

           "Remember, Jisoo, God only makes happy ending. if it's not happy then, it's not the end."

           "Okay, mom. I love you."

           "I love you too."

           That night, finally, he had his good sleep.