Hold on

Life holds no meaning. Whenever I open my eyes, there is nothing there. Where am I? What year is it? What time? Why is that no-one is here? What is happening to me? I’m so scared of life, I’m not sure when I speak of myself, that I even know who ‘I’ am anymore.

Inside my head, thoughts flicker. The images are hazy and bright, fizzing beneath my skull. A face begins to come into focus, but as if my memories are inhibited it soon fades. The ache in my head eases with my eyes screwed tightly together, but I have to open my eyes. I have to know where I am. How else will I know who I am?

A door creaks open somewhere near me. Light explodes into my vision and my eyes flood with water. My eyelashes flutter, attempting to regain a less distorted view. An unsteady silhouette stands making spotlights of white brightness filter towards me. He’s speaking. His voice is low, hushed. It sounds as if it’s trying to reassure me. What are they doing here?

A low murmur spreads through the room. I realise the source is from my mouth. Is it mine? It contrasts to the voice a few seconds ago. Emotions flood through my body, why is it I feel ashamed? There’s solitude, panic, worry, all threaded through my speech like notes in a piano piece.

Almost immediately there is silence. Wrapped around the confused images in my head is the never-ending pulsation of my heartbeat. It hurts. The fear inside me is nearly overflowing, the shadow at the door is growing larger.

“Key?” he asks as I yelp in fright. My limbs flail as he holds me, but his soft grip lingers. Small hushes leave his throat and my body stops it’s movement. Warmth envelops me and then quietly I am laying down. The shape of another person is beside me and the panic builds up inside me again, but strong arms are cradling me, pulling me into their chest.

The mess inside my head feels as if it has fractured. Slowly I realise where I am. Who I am. I know what I’m doing here, lying in a room that is not my own. Blood pools in my cheeks and my rescuer notices. His mouth opens a little and shows a small but heartbreaking smile.

This time, when my vocal chords succeed, I manage to be coherent.

“Thankyou, Jonghyun.”

________________________________________