wc: 1970
When I woke, it took me a moment to remember where I was and why I was here. The faint beeping of my heart monitor served as an almost immediate reminder. I was halfway through typing a text to Chanyeol, asking him to bring me a change of clothes, when I remembered that he couldn't; that there would be no answer. Putting my phone down and unhooking the clip from my finger, I grabbed my clothes from yesterday and changed back into them before practically forcing myself to hunt down the psychiatric wing of the hospital. I really didn't feel like talking. When I finally had to, to talk to a receptionist and find out which psychologist I could see soonest so I could get out of this place, my voice was quiet. It was almost as if my vocal cords were as against talking as my brain was.
I got in within a few minutes, luckily, because one of the doctors just had a patient cancel their appointment. When we got into his office, I felt uncomfortable, despite the memory foam cushions of the chair in which I sat. It seemed like he was waiting for me to talk first, but I honestly had no clue what to say. He took my nonverbal cue after a minute and spoke, introducing himself.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Do. You can call me Kyungsoo, though if you'd rather," he said, walking over for a handshake. I stared at his hand for a moment before shaking it hesitantly.
"I'm Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun." I watched him walk over to his seat, unsure of how this hour would go. I'd never talked to anyone about anything before.
"How is life, Baekhyun?"
"Not to be rude, um, Dr. Do, but if it was all sunshine and rainbows, I don't think I'd be sitting in this chair in your office right now. It's ty." A small chuckle escaped his lips.
"Alright, someone's feisty. You're right though, you probably wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be in the hospital at all. Why are you here?" He spoke calmly. My eyes wandered around the room, taking in the basic decorations of the office.
I spoke without a single ounce of emotion in my tone. "Drug overdose. But I'm fine, really. It wasn't a heart attack; it was a panic attack." Kyungsoo nodded and scribbled something down on his clipboard I hadn't noticed he was holding until now.
"If you don't mind my asking, what drug was it?"
"All of this is in my patient file. You could just look it up."
"I'd rather hear it from you. It's not my business to just snoop through your patient file. I don't have access to your patient file currently anyways. It takes a while to transfer over, and since you weren't listed under 'Suicide Attempt,' the techies won't rush it."
"Coke."
"And what made you decide to do this?"
"Why does anyone do it? To get high. To feel happy."
"Do you feel happy, Baekhyun?" His calm tone and expression sparked something inside me. Some fire or something; it made me angry. No, I'm not happy. Why the would I be?
"No."
"How do you feel?"
"Right now or all the time?"
"Either one, or both. Whichever one you feel like answering with." I knew he was trying to help, but I didn't want to let him in. I'd only known him for about ten minutes. I ended up forcing myself to speak, but it came out quiet. Almost weak-sounding, even.
"Miserable."
"Miserable is a very vague term. Would you mind clarifying where you fall along the spectrum of that word?"
"Everywhere. Some days I'll be numb; some days I'll be so cripplingly sad I can't even drag my out of bed; other days I'm angry at everything. Most days, it's a mix of all three." I saw his eyes soften before he looked back down to scribble more on that damned notepad.
"Do you remember the last time you felt happy?"
"A little over two months ago. I never felt like this before then."
"So something happened to cause you to feel like this?"
"I feel like that's an obvious answer."
"Baekhyun, I'm trying to help you. I can't help if you won't open up."
"My," I paused, because I really didn't know what to refer to him as. If he'd survived that day, he'd be my fiancé. I went with that. "Fiancé left me."
"I'm sorry. Do you know why she left? Did you fight?"
"He." I corrected. "And no. We didn't fight. He didn't exactly choose to leave."
"My apologies. What caused him to leave? Or do you not know?"
"His death." I almost whispered, still not wanting to think about it, even though I knew it happened. I knew it was real. The room fell silent for a moment.
"Oh, I'm so sor-"
"Please don't," I cut him off, but my voice broke halfway through my words. "Sorry won't bring him back," I mumbled.
"How have you handled it?"
"I haven't, not that I haven't tried."
"What ways have you tried?"
"At first, I tried television. But that didn't work. Then drinking, then - you know what? I'd rather not say. I've tried a lot of ways."
"I need to decide if you are a danger to yourself."
"Don't decide. It's painfully obvious. I'm a huge danger to myself. But I refuse to stay here. I hate hospitals."
"Baekhyun, I think it would be to your advantage to have the doctors here help. It'd be good for you if you stayed h-"
"That's where you're wrong. Staying here would be terrible for me."
"You seem like you need help. We can help you live like you did before-"
"Nothing will help me live like I did before. Not unless Chanyeol magically rises from the dead, and that will never happen. If I stayed in this hospital, anything that remains of my sanity would be gone within two weeks. This is the last place I saw him alive. The beeping and the flatlining of the heart monitor has never left my head. I'm a danger to myself, I'll come right out and say it. No amount of medication is going to make me feel like I used to. Believe me, I've tried them all. Nothing helps for more than fifteen minutes. Now can I please go? They won't let me check myself out until I've at least seen one of the psychologists here. I'm sure you're a good person; I'm sure you're a good doctor, but I'm too far gone. I can't be fixed."
"I don't believe anyone's too far gone. I'm afraid our time right now is up anyways. I'm going to write you a prescription for an antidepressant that I've seen work well on some of my furthest gone patients and I'll fax the main wing of the hospital so that you can check out. I won't force you to make another appointment with me, since I do believe you are an adult who can make your own choices, but my number is on the bottle I'll be giving you before you leave. I'm sure your family and your fiancé would want you to be happy."
"My family doesn't know I'm like this. I haven't talked to any of them since he's been gone."
"You should try sometime," he said, rummaging through his drawers and handing me a small bottle, labeled 'Amoxapine.' "This should help, at least a little."
"Where do I pay?"
"Your insurance should cover it. This will all show up on the normal hospital bill."
"Okay."
"Until next time, Baekhyun."
"Okay." I stood up and left from the door I came in, walking out of the hospital, not even bothering to properly check out. My phone rang a few minutes after I left and began walking towards my apartment. I answered it without thinking, and regretted it almost instantly.
"Hello?" I spoke, unsure of who was on the other line.
"Baekhyun! You actually answered this time! I've been so worried!" It was Chanyeol's mother. I felt a strong ache in my chest upon hearing her voice.
"Oh, um. Yeah, hi." It was hard to breathe. I had to force myself to have a seat on a bench as I approached one of the bridges to cross the Han river.
"How is everything? I haven't heard from you at all since the memorial service. I've been worried sick, and so have your parents."
"Oh," I focused on catching my breath. "Sorry about that. I never wanted to worry you." I avoided answering her first question. "How have you been?"
"Things have been rough, but I think I've been okay. Your parents have been well too. I'm sure they'd appreciate it if you'd call them." Her voice was exactly how I remembered it before all this happened, soft and caring.
"I meant to call sometime. I haven't really been up to it."
"Oh, Baek, I'm sorry. Is everything okay?"
"Not really," I let out a soft, breathy laugh, still struggling for air to actually come into my lungs.
"I think you've taken this the hardest out of all of us. It's been hell." I had nothing to say. She was right. Deciding it would be best for my sake, I changed the subject.
"I'll try to visit you and my parents soon. Maybe we could have lunch one day," I didn't want to, or rather, I didn't think I could handle seeing both mine and Chanyeol's parents. But even I knew that I'd gone a bit too far in my grieving and that they missed me. Part of me missed them too, but the rest of me missed Chanyeol so much I couldn't even think about anyone else.
I stood up and started walking again, and the conversation ended with half-hearted small talk. My feet led themselves, and though I only meant to walk to the bus stop, I reached the front door to my apartment before I had time to realise I'd walked that far. It was dark out now, sunrise marking the pass of the third day with no sign of Chanyeol. I thought I was crazy before, but the emotions I was currently feeling left me believing I was woefully deluded.
Where my previous will to live dwelled within wishes of never making my family feel what I'd felt these last few months, that will was fading. I refused to believe that this haunting could be helping me, but damn it, I wasn't getting any worse while he was around at least. I popped off the cap of a bottle of soju, but the smell alone was enough to make me feel sick. Giving up, I twisted the cap back on and left the bottle on the counter, retreating to my bed for the night. My slumber lasted a rough fourteen hours, and I wished harder than ever to have my giant with me once more. My sanity was dwindling away quicker than I'd believed possible. I stared at the bottle for a good forty minutes before taking the pills Dr. D - Kyungsoo prescribed me, hoping, but doubting, that they would help.
I stretched out on the couch and tried to think happy thoughts, which worked for a few minutes. That is, until my mind involuntarily shifted. I thought about just how much control of my life I had; I thought about how I could end it this very second in ten or more different ways. It wasn't the first time I'd thought about suicide, but it was the first time I'd seriously contemplated it. It was empowering, in a sick way.
I survived today, the last consideration for my family fading. I could feel rock bottom growing nearer and nearer.