The shock doesn’t get out of me until I am sitting on a bed in the hospital with a doctor trying to make me answer his questions. What makes me wake up is the sight of my hands. My hands are covered in blood and pieces of glass are pointing out from my palms. I look up at Manager Lee, suddenly crying.  “Miss Hannah, you are alright, the cuts aren’t that deep,” the doctor is telling me, trying to calm me down but he is not the one sitting with crushed glass pointing out of his palms. “But we will have to get that glass out and clean it, so it will hurt a bit.” It will hurt a bit? It is already hurting a lot! No word is getting out of me for the next few hours. I cry tons and I scream and I cry even more because of the pain in my hands, and every thing I want to do, I move my hands and the pain rush through me. I can’t even move a lock of my hair without it hurting and every time that happens I cry. Manager Lee doesn’t leave my side for the hours we are at the hospital to get the glass out, to clean and to patch up my hands, he lets me get down to earth before telling me what actually happened. A person has spread online saying she did it, she was next to the stage and threw out the glass during my performance to give me what I deserve. At first when he talks about the police coming, I really just want to go home and cry a river, to avoid it all, but when I move my hand I remember the fall on the stage and I remember that Min Na was about to fall before me and I am furious when I tell the police what happened. Why am I mad? What if Min Na actually had fallen, what if she was the one feeling this pain in her hands? I am furious that someone was so immature to put other people in danger just to hurt me. That I had my dancers up on the stage never occurred to this person? And then I cry more because my hands are hurting so much and I am angry that this person didn’t think of what would’ve happened if someone else than me got hurt. The big question Manager Lee asked when we were getting ready to leave was the SM Town concert in a few days. “I doubt she will be able to hold a microphone, and we’ll have to see how the cuts have healed,” the doctor said and I am determined that I am not going to miss out on any concert this year. In the van on the way home I hear my phone calling in the bag. I don’t touch it. I can’t touch it. My hands are hurting so much and I have bandage to not move my hands and my fingers are hurting because of the pain in my palms. “Doctor Song will come in the morning,” Manager Lee keeps talking to me, “What time do you want her to come? Around eight sounded good when I talked to her, but if you want her to come earlier or later, that’s alright too. I got a meeting at the agency at ten, and you ladies are supposed to start practice after lunch… I will talk to Doctor Song before then to know what she says about your hands, if you … you know, can perform in Japan-” “I’ll perform,” I interrupt him, suddenly angry that it is even in their heads that I might not perform. Manager Lee gives me a glance and I turn to stare out the window. “Do you want me to answer the phone for you?” he suggests. I don’t care that my phone is ringing pretty much the whole time, or receiving text messages. Manager lee has talked to my members so they know I’m alright, and he talked to Kyungho too when we were at the hospital because media came out with articles right away that I had fallen and left the stage bleeding – according to people that had watched the concert. If I could use my hands I would look up what is being said about me, what they see happened from the performance – Manager Lee won’t tell me anything. “When is the best time for Doctor Song to come?” he tries again when my phone stops ringing. It is probably Maria wondering when I’m coming. “She can come at eight,” I mutter. I lift my hand up to rub my eyes, but just by lifting my hand it hurts and I have to bite my lip when putting down my hand anew. I want to cry again. Manager Lee slows down the driving when arriving on my street, driving slowly to the door. “It’s late,” he tells me, “So I want you to go to bed, okay? Get some sleep.” “I’m sorry about tonight,” I mumble and hols out my hand to open the door, just to stare at it with my fingers on the handle. It hurts. It hurts just touching something and I feel my eyes well up in tears, unable to open the door. “Don’t move,” Manager Lee burst out and he is out of the van. I lean forward in tears as I realise I can’t even open a door on my own. I can’t wipe my own tears! Manager Lee opens the door for me and he is even ready to support me as if I have hurt my legs too, and he do not forget to take my bag that I left in the van – hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with feel miserable not being able to pick up my phone in it by leaving it in the van. I can’t even clench my fists in frustration, and that is even more frustrating. He helps me all the way inside the house, annoying me when even looking at me in wonder if I will manage to take off my shoes – I kick my shoes off without problem. I’m still in the dress I wore at the performance, stained with blood from my hands, and my manager’s jacket over it because Manager Lee did not want me to walk around in a bloody dress. “Hannah?” I can hear Maria’s worried voice before feet are running to the hall. Coming inside the hall wearing a one-piece, her short blonde hair put up in a hair band and her arms held out when she runs over to me, the anger and frustration I have felt turns into regret. Why didn’t I walk more careful on the stage? “You alright, baby?” Maria asks, sounding like she wants to cry and her face shows she has been worried these hours waiting for me. She embraces me carefully, but it is the kind of hug that makes me lower my head and feel horrible. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “Don’t you dare be sorry, alright?! Don’t you dare,” Maria bursts out, leaning back to look at me and while she is worried she is also angry. “She should be sorry, who the heck is this bi*ch who dare to mess with us? Your hands! Look, my baby! I’m going to kick her teeth in! How dare she do such a thing?” “Maria,” Manager Lee says and he is looking troubled when we both look at him. “She need some rest, so if you-” “Yes, yes, yes,” Maria repeats and pats my arms, glancing at my hands and then up at me and at Manager Lee. “Thanks for tonight, Oppa. I’ll tug her to bed.” I grimace at her words but Manager Lee thanks her too. I don’t know what’s the weirdest; the two of them being nice to each other or the way they talk about me. But Manager Lee leaves, and Maria gives me another hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” she sobs, holding on to me but the hug is still very careful. “And I don’t want you to feel bad, alright? You do that, but don’t this time because it wasn’t your fault that she is a freaking bi*ch and I have been so worried for you and I love you and I’m happy you are alright and I will do everything you need, alright? Alright, Hannah, are you listening to me?” The worst part about always getting in trouble like this is Maria’s speeches. I never know how to react to her and I am crying because my hands are hurting and I feel bad for doing this to my members again. I nod to her question. “Good. Emelia went to buy ice-cream because I am craving it and if you want… we can eat ice-cream and fall asleep in the sofa,” Maria suggests, letting go of me and she watches my face. “Or…” she starts off and clears , grimacing a bit when touching the collar of the jacket I’m wearing. That’s right, Manager Lee didn’t get his jacket back back. “Or, you can be with Jonghyun.” “Jonghyun?” “Yeah…” she nods, deciding to take the jacket off me. “He has been calling. I had to explain that you probably had your phone hidden somewhere, as I know you, baby. And … he is on his way.” I take a deep breath then I don’t know whether to breathe out or hold my breath. Jonghyun is on his way. What time is it? I can’t even put my hand in the bag to see the time on my phone. “Or both, I don’t know. You don’t mind him coming? Because if you don’t want him to come I can kick him away-” “No, no, no, no, no, no,” I whisper and I smile when seeing Maria’s face-expression. “I won’t kick him,” she tells me with a laugh, throwing Manager Lee’s jacket on the bench. “You solved things with him, then?” “With Jonghyun? No,” I say and shake my head. I lift my hands a bit to remove the hair from my face, just to feel the pain and I put them down again with a grimace. “I can’t meet him like this. Look at me.” I show her my hands with a whine and Maria rolls her eyes. “I can kick you instead,” she answers and points at me, turning around to leave the hall. “But you have to tell me if you need help with anything, Hannah, alright?” “Like undressing, eating, brushing my teeth; everything,” I mutter. When she turns around to glare at me I give her a pout. My bag stays in the hall where Manager Lee put it and I head inside my room, just to stare inside the dark bedroom. “Where is Tiger?” I ask a bit louder than normal for Maria to hear me. “You know that palace we got from fans? Tiger owns it now. Ace completely surrendered, but I think your little one doesn’t dare to get out of it because Ace will take control then, you know what I mean?” I think I know what I mean. In Japan we got a gift from our fans of a cat palace, like three floors of fun but not too big, that we have put in the living-room. So I go out there, and I now know what Maria meant. Tiger is in the palace, stretching out on the edge towards me but not wanting to leave the palace. “You’re not even coming to the door to greet me?” I pout at her and bend down to put my face to hers. “That’s silly, Tiger.” She is really not getting out of that palace. “Baby,” Maria says and comes inside the living-room. “Let’s get you out of that dress.” I stand up straight and look down at the dress I thought was very pretty and suited for the summer performance, now looking like a Halloween dress with blood stains on it. Maria head inside my room, probably not seeing that I look a little lost at her comment about changing my clothes. I’m nervous by the thought that she will undress and dress me, to change my clothes. She comes back with the pyjamas I had on my bed. “Will this do?” she asks. I just stare at her, quietly nodding. She doesn’t even hesitate to ask if I need help to change clothes, she knows I can’t use my hands and doesn’t ask me. She was serious that she would help me with anything. When she tells me to hold up my hands I bite my lip to not start laughing, but I still laugh when Maria starts pulling the dress up. “You make it weird when you laugh, Hannah,” she blames me. “It is weird,” I giggle and automatically hold my breath. Maria laughs when seeing that I stop breathing but she pulls on the tank top she had chosen before helping me take off my bra and tights, which is probably the most embarrassing thing Maria and I have done – and we have done a lot of embarrassing things together. Undressing is now one of them. “Be still!” Maria complains when pulling down the see-through tights, squatting next to me. “I’m sure I can probably-” “HONEY, I’M HOME!” Emelia calls out in the hall and I start stomping my feet to get the tights off me quickly. Maria falls on her laughing and when I hear Milo run inside, it is a second later with Emelia’s laugher. “What are you two doing? YA! She got her hands hurt and you are stripping her down in the living-room?!” All she gets in response is laughter. I can’t help but to laugh and Maria is already laughing and Emelia’s words are really funny, and it is real laughter coming out of me. “Carolina is pissed, by the way,” Emelia says when passing us to go inside the kitchen. “She says you’re not answering your phone and she will not speak to you for hours and she will come tomorrow and steal our ice-cream.” “She wouldn’t dare,” Maria glares up at me. “We’ve got Ace protecting that ice-cream.” I smile at my silly friends and I know I will have to give Carolina an extra long hug in the morning so she won’t be upset, knowing I can’t answer her text messages and calls. I can’t use my hands. We sit down in the sofa – I’m in a tank top and pyjama pants, thanks to Maria – and though I turn down ice-cream they give me a bowl anyway. Maria wants to feed me but I just shake my head, then Emelia wants to feed me but I shake my head. I can’t eat on my own, and I am not letting them feed me. I sit with them for a while, but when Maria asks for the fourth time if I don’t want my ice-cream, I decide to go to bed instead. There is just one problem. Standing by the side of the sofa, I bite my lip and grimace, glance from my two friends to the TV and back. “What’s on your mind, baby?” Maria asks, lying stretched out in the other end. “Um… what should I do about … the bathroom?” I ask. I lower my head and I feel so embarrassed. “Don’t use it,” Emelia chuckles and looks up at me with a smirk. “I’ll come help you,” Maria offers and though I do wish she is actually joking, she is getting up from the sofa with much more determation than needed and I feel that I really do not need her help. “I can do it! I can do it on my own,” I burst out and hold up my bandage covered hands. “Maria, please-” “Hush baby, we can help each other out,” Maria says, her hand on my back to guide me to the bathroom. “I know you would do the same to me if I needed it.” “Don’t be so sure on that!” Emelia laughs in the sofa. “You know Hannah doesn’t like private things like peeing in public or getting in public-” “What?!” I call out, still having Maria push me. “Do YOU like to get in public?” “Ignore the ghost, I know I do,” Maria mutters and closes the door after us, “So, where do you want to start?” I give her a stare. Where do I want to start in the bedroom? “Teeth,” Maria agrees before I get a word out. She sits on the sink after preparing the toothbrush and I open my mouth. “You know, this could be a family thing,” Maria points out while brushing my teeth. “Brush each other’s teeth, right? It could bring us closer.” “We geeg go geck cother?” She chuckles and takes out the toothbrush. “What did you say?” “We need to get closer?” I giggle with my arm over my mouth, just to remove it for Maria to continue. “Not really, but it would be a fun thing to do, don’t you think?” I want to shake my head but a grimace seems to answer her question because Maria is smiling widely at me. She is enjoying this way too much, brushing my teeth. “From my point of view, it is really fun.” “Huk,” I say, wanting to say ‘hush’. Brushing my teeth and change my clothes are not that bad. Washing my face is not that awful either, that one is pretty funny actually, but the thing about going to the bathroom is probably the worst thing I have ever done in my entire life. I get to try wiping myself, which seems impossible but I manage it (kind of) and I do not need Maria to do it for me (I am hoping my hands are better in the morning, I dread for what I will have to face otherwise) but to have here there, to help me pull up my underwear and pyjama pants … it is dreadful. After that, I really do not want any ice-cream and I quietly go to my room to get some sleep – knowing I can’t touch my phone, I can’t write, I can’t touch my laptop, I can’t do anything else than sleep. Tiger runs inside my room before I shut it lightly, and I fall down on my bed, lying on the side to look at Tiger lie on her back next to me, ready to play. I hold my hand above her, wanting to pat her, but just holding my hand above her is giving me so much pain that I roll on my back with a cry. I can’t even touch Tiger. The doorbell jerks me up on my feet; one name suddenly pops up in my head as I had forgotten he was coming. “Damn,” I groan when I can’t wipe the sudden tears with my hands, and doing it with my arms is difficult. I hear what happens outside my room and I am crying in frustration for not being able to dry my own tears. “Hannah?” Emelia knocks on the door, she tells someone else; “She just went to bed.” The door is opened and I hear the sweet voice of Jonghyun’s tell Emelia goodnight. I hide behind the door; the lamp is on so Jonghyun has just taken a step inside when he spots me. I face the wall though, ashamed of my tears and my hands. Jonghyun closes the door and drops something on the floor before I can feel him stand behind me. “This was not how I imagined us meeting tonight when we decided to meet,” Jonghyun mentions behind me. He is careful, I can feel his nervousness as if he is uncertain if he can touch me or not. He tries: he puts his hands on my shoulders, being stiff and waiting for my reaction. When deciding to meet before the concert, I imagined a night full of talk about us, trust and love. Now, I can’t use my hands. I’m not sure if I am really crying or what I am doing but I face the wall and try to be as quiet as possible, to hide my emotions. “Nabi,” Jonghyun whispers, turning me around but not to look at me; he embraces me. With the nickname I haven’t heard in a while I feel that wall I tried to build up by standing with my back against him fall apart and I don’t avoid his hug. I lean on him, knowing this hug is completely different from the one I received from Maria when I came home. Jonghyun’s hug is tight, not careful at all but what is familiar with Maria’s is the warmth in it, the care. I burst out crying against his chest, his hand on my head. “It’s okay,” he mumbles by my ear, “Hannah. It’s okay.” He smells divine. I hold my face against his chest, pressing myself against him. “It’s not okay,” I mutter against him. “I can’t do anything. I can’t do a thing. I can’t use my hands at all, I can’t even pat Tiger and it’s awful and, and … and my hands are hurting so much.” And on top it all, I feel relieved that he is here. “What can I do to ease the pain?” Jonghyun mumbles, his palm rubbing my back. I guess I am worrying him; he comes in and I am hiding behind the door, crying and being depressing. With a mixed of a sob and sigh, I try to control my emotions a little better, just to hear him start humming. I laugh against his chest, muffling my own sound against him and I would really want to wipe my tears or at least put my hand over my mouth as the habit I have, but I can’t do neither so more tears are smeared on his clothes though I do quiet down to listen to him. I got no idea what song it is he hums for me, it is a calm humming. The question is whether it is a song he has been listening to a lot recently or if it is no song at all and he is just humming whatever he feels like. The beauty with him is that he continues for a long time, feeling me relax and calm down in his embrace, and I can feel my chest stop beating so fast. He has always had this power over me. Even years ago when I cried, he sang to calm me as if he knew his voice always can sooth me. His hand the back of my head, down my hair, and after a while the humming slows down. “You want me to continue?” he asks in a low, y voice. I blush a