“Name?”

“Lee Sungmin.”

“Date of birth?”

“January 1, 1997.”

“So that would be 17 years of age. Height and weight?”

“175 centimeters, 57 kilograms.”

“His history of suicide attempts?”

I began to open my mouth to give an answer. I had the right to tell the doctor my own story from my own mouth.  But as always, my mother answered the question for me, just as quickly and easily as she had answered all the previous questions that were supposed to be for me.

“Earlier this week, he took an entire bottle of aspirin before he went to sleep.  And yesterday, he jumped off a bridge into the Han River below.”  My mother’s voice caught in , and she shifted in her seat, adjusting the stack of paperwork on her lap.

“Has he ever attempted suicide before these incidents?”

“No.”

“Has he shown signs of depression before these incidents?”

“He’s anemic, so his skin is always really pale.  But a few months ago, he started looking even paler, and he seemed to have lost interest in everything but drawing.  He stopped studying and eating and just slept all day.”

“Have you taken any action?”

“No.”

The doctor raised his dark eyebrows but continued scribbling at the form on his clipboard.  The room was silent for a minute as he continued to take notes.  My mother continued to fill out the paperwork the receptionist had given her while we were in the waiting room.  At last I worked up the courage to say something, and I cleared my throat hesitantly.

“Dr. Choi?  Sir, I--”

“Does he have any injuries?”  The doctor looked away from me, his gelled black hair reflecting off of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

“He has several large bruises on his arms, sides, and other places on his body.  He hit the water pretty hard when he jumped.”

I felt a surge of frustration.  The two of them were completely ignoring me, as if I wasn’t capable of speaking.  As if I wasn’t even in the room with them.  The bile rose in my stomach, but I managed to calm myself by digging my fingernails into the cushion of the uncomfortable folding chair.  I took several deep breaths, but before I could say anything else, Dr. Choi interrupted me again.

“Does he have any allergies or other medical problems that we should know about?”

“He’s anemic, as I mentioned before, and he has a lot of trouble sleeping.”

“Does anyone in his family smoke or have a history of taking alcohol or drugs?”

“His father used to be an alcoholic.  And Sungmin has a tendency of overdosing on any sorts of medication he’s given.”

“Any traumatizing personal experiences or just anything in general that could have contributed to the cause to his depression?”

“He witnessed his younger brother’s death just under a year ago.  That’s it.”

Tears of both grief and anger flooded my gaze.  Grief because of the reminder that I had lost my brother Sungjin to a drunk driver.  Anger because I wasn’t even allowed to answer a question that was obviously supposed to be directed at me, not my mother.  

But Dr. Choi never even looked at me.  I gripped the chair cushion even tighter, keeping my head lowered and willing myself not to show the doctor the wetness in my eyes.  I would not show him my weakness.  Because he didn’t care whether or not I was crying.

The room fell back into the eerie silence, broken only by the relentless sound of pen on paper.  I tried to make eye contact with my mother.  I nudged her foot with my own, but she didn’t even look up from her paperwork.  The only thing she did to acknowledge the fact that I was there was put her finger to her lips, a sign that she was very annoyed with me.  A stab of hurt pricked my mind.  I hadn’t even spoken a full sentence since I had entered the questioning room.  What had I done?

Dr. Choi capped his pen and picked up his clipboard.  He stood up and bowed to the both of us.

“That will be all, Mrs. Lee.  I’ll be back in a minute with a nurse to do his physical examination.  You may leave if you wish, and you may turn in the paperwork at the front desk.”  And then there was the door closing behind him.  I turned back to my mother.  To my surprise, she had risen from her seat and was putting her stuff back in her handbag.

“Umma!  Umma, where are you going?  Aren’t you staying with me?”
 

But she ignored me and I became desperate.  I got up from my own chair.  I grabbed her arm and tried to stop her from opening the door.

“Umma!”

“Stop it, Sungmin.”  Her voice had lost its usual warmth, and her sheer coldness made me take a step back in surprise.

“But umma, I don’t want to stay here.  I don’t like this place.  Please take me away from here.  You saw how the doctor completely ignored me.  They don’t care about me.  Please don’t--”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you like this place.  This is one of the top psychiatric hospitals in Korea.  This is for your own good.  It absolutely cannot be found out that the sole heir to the largest company in South Korea is suicidal and depressed.  This is for our future.  Our family’s future, and your future.”

“But you don’t understand.  I don’t want to become the next heir.  I want to be a singer and a dancer and--”

“No.  The only future that is ahead of you is a future with your father’s company.  As soon as you turn twenty years old, you automatically inherit the company.  You must learn to cope.  You don’t have a choice.”
 

“I--” I was at a loss for words.  Didn’t she care what I wanted?  After all, I was the reason why she was here.  I was her son.  My heart cracked, and my grip on my mother’s arm loosened as more tears flooded my eyes.  She took the chance to pull away from me and opened the door.

“I’m putting you here because it’s for your own good, Lee Sungmin.  The sooner you get over your depression, the sooner you can get out of here.”  And then she was gone.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, it opened again.  This time, it was Dr. Choi,

accompanied by a nurse who was wearing burgundy scrubs.

“Hello again, Sungmin-ssi.  Leeteuk-ssi will be doing your physical examination.  It’s been a pleasure working with you, and I hope I’ll see you around the general psych ward sometime.  Have a good day.”  Dr. Choi bowed to the both of us and left us in the room.

I gaped at the closed door behind him, absolutely stunned at what he had just said.  ‘It had been a pleasure working with me’?  He actually expected me to believe that?  Fat chance.  Those few sentences were the only words he had said to me since he had met me.

you, Dr. Choi Siwon, I said to myself.  You treat me the way you treated me, and you expect me to have a good day?  Don’t tell me what kind of day to have.  Kindly off, thank you very much.

Leeteuk cleared his throat and I snapped back to reality.  I realized that I had been glaring furiously at the door the entire time, and I relaxed my facial muscles.  Even though I hadn’t even said a word to him yet, I knew that he would probably be exactly like Dr. Choi.  But I respectfully muttered an apology, even though I didn’t really mean it.  I had every right to be upset.  No one could tell me what to feel because it was my life.  I could feel whatever the hell I wanted to feel.

“Hello, Sungmin-ssi,” he said cheerfully.  He dipped his head to me, and I made the expected bow in return.

“So today I’ll be dressing your wounds and bruises from before, and I’ll also be taking your vital signs.”

“What are vital signs?”

“Oh.  Blood samples, urine samples, temperature, height, weight, stuff like that,” he said. “Do you have any other questions for me before we begin?”

I shook my head.  What was the point of arguing with him?  Even if I objected, they would force me to do this anyways.  The best option I had was to comply and hope that my good behavior would mean my early release from this sort of hell.

“Okay.  Now, if I could have you undress so that I can search you for any weapons or dangerous substances…”

The time went by despairingly slowly.  It took about thirty minutes for him to tend  to my many bruises, and another thirty minutes to finish taking my vital signs.  We spent an entire hour arguing over which of my possessions I could bring into the hospital.  He went through my bags, telling me what I could keep, and what I had to turn over.  I couldn’t keep my belt.  I had to discard my shoes because they didn’t allow shoelaces, for fear that we might try to strangle ourselves.  Leeteuk raised his eyebrows in surprise as he saw what was covering my feet, but I glared at him intensely, daring him to object to my fashion choices.  We had a prolonged debate about whether or not I should be allowed to keep my colored pencils, ink drawing pens, graphite pencils, and pencil sharpener.  He reasoned that the hospital staff provided the patients with art supplies whenever we had art therapy, and I didn’t need them.  Furthermore, he went so far as to suggest that I might use the pencils or the sharpener to try to self-harm.  I had exploded at that, and it took him twenty minutes to calm me down.  I had pretended to finally cool down, but I was still upset.  I was depressed and suicidal.  I did not self-harm, and I never would.  There was a goddamn difference between depression and tendencies to self-harm.  And clearly, no one understood that.  Or maybe they just didn’t care enough to understand.  Eventually, he relented and let me keep them.

In the end, there were two piles.  In the discard pile was my belt, my shoes, my phone, and several hoodie strings.  In the keep pile was everything else: the rest of my clothes, my sketchbooks, my art supplies, and a stuffed totoro.  Leeteuk put the possessions I could keep back into my bag, and then he left the room to get the  psychiatrist I was assigned to.

Her name was Dr. Lee Sunkyu.  Even though she didn’t look a day older than me with her chubby cheeks and flawless complexion, she told me that she was 25 years old and had just finished university.  She wore a blindingly bright smile, paired with pink barrettes in her blond hair.  She kept insisting that I call her Sunny instead of Dr. Lee, but I declined every time.

After all, she was just another one of them.  Another one of those people whose job was to make me feel better about myself.  They didn’t really care, so why should I?

But Dr. Lee put on a very convincing show.  After she put me through another security check and searched me, she sat me down and went through all the hospital rules.  She explained how Incheon Psychiatric Hospital was unique from the other hospitals in Korea.  It was different in a sense.  True, there were still some of the standard rules and regulations.  We could only interact with people in our own wards.  We had to take medication in the morning and in the night.  Nurses or other hospital staff members had to check on us every thirty minutes.  Only the staff members could lock our doors, which could only be locked from the outside.  We were only allowed to bring certain things into the bathroom, and we could never use the bathrooms directly after dinner.  The list of rules went on and on.

But we also had certain benefits that other hospitals didn’t provide.  Patients entered the hospital with many privileges, which were only taken away for bad behavior.  The psychiatrists focused more on art therapy and group therapy rather than one-on-one therapy because they believed it was better for us to interact with each other, since we were all going through similar things.  We were strongly encouraged to interact with the other patients and form friendships, as long as those patients were in our wards.  We were allowed to go outside the hospital and visit the nearby playgrounds, coffee shops, and stores, as long as we had a staff member accompany us.

After she had made sure I knew every little thing that I needed to know about the hospital, Dr. Lee asked me a bunch of questions about my condition.  How was my day?  How was I feeling right now?  Did I feel like committing suicide at the moment?  Did I feel like hurting myself in any way?  The constant stream of questions battered me relentlessly.  Dr. Lee was taking notes about what I said during the entire time, and I bottled up my true emotions inside my head  I just told her what she wanted to hear so that she would shut up and leave me alone.  Any chances of me telling her what was really on my mind slipped out the door and out the building.

Maybe this was just me, but one of the things in life that really frustrated me to the point of insanity was the way that some people refused to try to understand you.  Sure, Dr. Lee was listening to me.  But that was all that she was doing.  She was just listening.  Not understanding.  So I didn’t bother trying to listen to the ‘advice’ she offered me.  I just nodded my head as she talked and made up fake answers whenever she asked me a question.

After what seemed like hours, she closed her binder and put down her pen.

“Thank you for telling me your thoughts, Sungmin-ssi.  That will be all for today.  Do you have any questions?”

I shook my head and Dr. Lee smiled at me again.  I gave a weak, forced smile in return, hoping that it was satisfactory.  If it wasn’t, Dr. Lee didn’t show it.

“Good.  I’m going to show you to your room now, okay?  It’s--”  She turned to look at her watch.  “--almost 5:30 right now, which means that visiting hour will be coming to a close within half an hour.  Dinner will be served in the main cafeteria at 6:00, but before that, we’ll go to your room first so that you can put your things down, meet your roommate, and have a little time to yourself if you need it.”

I turned back to her, surprised.

“Roommate?”

“Yes, your roommate.  Every person in this hospital has a roommate, unless they’re classified as a high-risk patient.  We do this so that you can at least have someone to talk to during your stay here.  Unless you want a room to yourself?  We could arrange that if having a roommate isn’t convenient for you.”

I shook my head.

“No, I’m fine with having a roommate,” I said.  Might as well.  Nothing I would do here would make any difference, so what did it matter?  Dr. Lee nodded in confirmation and got up from her seat across the table.

“Okay, then.  Come with me.”

Leeteuk accompanied Dr. Lee and I to the elevators.  We rode to the fifth floor, the general psych ward.  It took us five minutes to walk from the elevator to the actual rooms because of the sheer size of the hospital.  Along the way, I tried to memorize the route.  The nurses would probably think that I was crazier than I already was if I had to ask them the directions to the bathrooms.  But there was one other thing that I noticed.

“Dr. Lee?  Where are the others?  The other patients,” I asked.

“It’s visiting hour right now.  Those who have visitors are most likely in their rooms.  Those who don’t are either in their rooms doing whatever they want, or they’re outside at the playground or something.  Your roommate should already be in your room.  He doesn’t get many visitors, and he keeps mostly to himself.  But I’m sure that you’ll find him to be an interesting person.”

I deemed the statement as one that was unworthy of a response and didn’t say anything.

The three of us walked the rest of the way to my room in silence.  We passed by a few nurses’ stations, the dining area, a few therapy rooms, and the patients’ rooms.  It was the patients’ rooms that caught my attention.

There were two, large rectangular windows for each room.  I could actually see a few patients in their rooms reading, sleeping, talking with their visitors, or just lying on their cots and staring at nothing in particular.  I shivered.

At last, Dr. Lee and Leeteuk stopped in front of a door much like the dozens I had already passed.  I looked through the window and saw a boy sitting on his cot reading a manga.  Before Dr. Lee opened the door, she turned to me.

“Your roommate is an insomniac like you are, so I hope that he won’t disturb you too much.  He doesn’t sleep much, despite the medication we give him at night.  Would you be okay with having him as a roommate??”

I nodded automatically, and Dr. Lee grinned before opening the door in front of us.

“Wookie!”  Dr. Lee said in a voice that dripped and bled sweetness.  “Teukie and I found you a roommate!”  I nearly vomited at the sound of her disgustingly cute voice.  I started to panic as the boy looked up from his manga and stood up, dropping his head to all three of us.  I could barely pull myself together to bow back to him.  All I could think was: would this be me in a few months?  Or weeks?  Why had Dr. Lee’s voice changed like that?  Was it because… because my roommate had been here so long that he was already driven to the point of insanity and had to be treated like a mindless five-year-old?  Was this going to happen to me?  I could certainly picture myself like that all too well.

Dr. Lee flashed her sickeningly cute eye smile at me before closing the door behind her, Leeteuk trailing obediently behind her like a dog following its master.  I heard the lock slide closed as the door was bolted from the outside.  And that was when I reminded myself of the bitter truth.

I knew it was all an act. The cheerful demeanor of Leeteuk, the staff, and even Dr. Lee herself (or 'Sunny', as she prefers me calling her).  The way they seemed so overly concerned about us annoyed me to the point where I wanted to rip out their insides.  Their smiles were too fake, too dazzling.  As if they were models instead of everyday people.  Their eyes seemed bright on the outside, but there was something deep inside of them that practically screamed “How the did I manage to land myself a job like this?”

The pale blue walls and the motivational quotes that scrolled across the ceilings of every hallway and room of Incheon Psychiatric Hospital did nothing to hide the undeniable fact that this was a place for people that were not normal.  For people that were suicidal.  For people that were depressed.  For people like me.

I turned my eyes to the pale-skinned boy standing before me.  He was a little shorter than I was, but impossibly skinny, with a well-defined jawline and dark, thoughtful eyes.  He was wearing a baggy, dark blue sweatshirt and black skinny jeans, paired with a faded pair of brown house slippers.  That’s when I noticed that his eyes were roaming up and down my body.  Great, I muttered under my breath.  It’s been less than ten seconds since I’ve met my roommate, and he’s already judging me.

His soft voice pierced the empty silence that had discreetly slipped into the room as Dr. Lee had been closing the door.  He wasn’t even talking that loudly, but it sounded as if he were speaking to me through a megaphone.

“Your name is Sungmin, right?”

I was absolutely stunned at the fact that he already knew my name until I glanced down at the name tag pinned to my white tshirt, the name tag that all patients were required to wear in front of their shirts in plain sight.

I simply nodded in confirmation before letting my eyes drift to his own name tag.  Well then, Kim Ryeowook.  It looks like you’re going to be my roommate while I’m here.

I was debating whether or not to actually say something to him before he cut through my thoughts.

“I like your pink bunny socks, Sungmin-ssi,” he said, nodding his head towards my feet.  I looked down at my feet, which were clad with a pair of fluffy pink socks with pink stuffed bunny heads with floppy ears on the front.  They had been a gift from Sungjin when he had still been alive and I wore them all the time as a reminder of the good memories we shared together.

Struck by genuine surprise for the second time that day, I was frozen for a few seconds.  It may have been minutes, or maybe hours.  I honestly couldn’t tell.

Was this a genuine compliment?  Was he making fun of me and my obsession for the color pink?  A small spark of panic came to life in my mind, and I nearly started hyperventilating from all the pressure.  What should I say?  Does this mean he wants to be my friend?  Or does he just want to start a conversation to make up for my stupid awkwardness?  Or what?  Why were humans so confusing?  The world would be so much easier if it wasn’t as complicated as we made it seem.  And so with that thought in mind, I interpreted Ryeowook’s words as a genuine compliment.  He was simply speaking his mind, and I felt obliged to do so as well.

“Thank you…" I added another word as an afterthought.  "Ryeowook".  It came with a smile, small, but genuine.  It was a smile that I hadn’t given anyone in a long, long time.  A smile that wasn’t forced.  A smile that was returned by Ryeowook’s own grin.

Hi my readers/subscribers ^^ the first chapter is up, and I hope you liked it XD

Please comment, subscribe, and upvote if you haven't already, and have a lovely day everyone ^^