The page roller made a very loud annoying sound. Once the printer had done its job, Jiyeon immediately turned off the printer and the computer. She took the printed picture, and her lips broke into a fully satisfied smile at the result. The picture looked normal; there were no regular lines on it despite it was printed on plain paper not photo paper. She propped her feet up on the desk and leaned back in her chair, enjoying the peace and serenity of the study room.

The walls were painted soft green. This soft green had a wonderful mossy quality; it felt like a cool walk through the deeply shaded woods. Green was her favorite color. She'd loved this color from her early childhood. This was the color of nature, very soothing and calming. She admitted she was a person who got angry quickly, and the three things that could surely evoke her anger were politics, psychology and psychiatry. Green color helped her reduce anger. Hence, she painted her room lime-green.

The books on the shelves were so perfectly and neatly stacked—one of the shelves contained her father's collection of psychology books and journals. Her father loved reading about psychology, whilst Jiyeon hated both psychology and psychiatry with a passion. Why? She hated psychiatric opinions.

People who take a psychology class or go as far as to get a degree in it, think they know all there is to know about the human mind and believe they know more about what others feel and think than they do themselves. Being a true pseudoscience like phrenology, psychiatry serves as a means of social control. Depression or any mental illness has never been proven to be due to a serotonin or other chemical imbalance or even to exist anyway.

All the criteria for a diagnosis written in DSM are behavioral—no scientific basis. Whether it is Schizophrenia, Clinical Depression or Bipolar Disease, the definitions consist wholly of described behaviors. The loose collections of vaguely-defined problems of thinking, feeling, and behaving that psychiatry calls mental illnesses are not illnesses in any ordinary sense of the term, and that the drugs that psychiatry dispenses so liberally to "treat" these so-called illnesses almost always do more harm than good, especially in the long term. It has been proven antidepressants cause suicide. They literally cause suicidal behavior. Jiyeon could feel the heat of anger rising within her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and focused on the soft green wall. A sense of tranquility and calmness that green emitted cooled her body and mind.    

A smile appeared on her lips as her eyes landed on a large picture frame hanging on the wall near the door. It was her college graduation photo with her father. She was dressed in a black graduation cap and gown, hugging him—she was smiling, with her arms wrapped around her father's neck, resting her chin on his shoulder, her eyes closed. While her father was dressed in a dark gray business suit, with his back facing the camera. Her graduation day at Seoul University was the best day of her whole life. That was the day she finished her challenge to herself and also the day she made history in her family—the day she earned her B.S. in Mathematics Education. She graduated summa laude.

"My girl, you're too damn beautiful when smiling, and your tiny dimple is so adorable," the voice echoed in her ear, soft and sweet. "You're not only beautiful, but also so damn smart. I admire you very much."

Jiyeon let out a disgusted grunt at the voice's sweet nothings. She placed her hand over her heart as a wave of longing engulfed her. She yearned for her father's arms—yearned to confide in him—yearned to cycle to school together. They didn't work at the same school. Her father taught at a private high school, which was located just a few blocks from her school. He had been participating in an intensive program in Japan—Project IMPULS (International Math-teacher Professionalization Using Lesson Study) for two weeks. Her father was her inspiration—the man whose footsteps she followed. Her father had never raised his voice at her, and she had no words to describe how much she loved him.   

She could feel her eyelids growing heavier. A yawn escaped her lips. She looked at the wall clock ticking on the wall and said, "Twenty-five past four. So let's sleep again, Park Jiyeon." She closed her eyes and soon drifted into sleep.

"My girl, wake up. It's time to go to work," his deep, smooth voice whispered in her right ear. Her eyes jerked open as she felt the gentle caress of warm breath against her cheek.

Jiyeon rubbed her cheek while her eyes darted around the room, searching for his figure, but of course there was no one else there. Goosebumps danced across her skin. She immediately rose from the chair and walked out of the study room, heading to her bedroom while carrying the printed picture. Stepping into her room, she shut the door behind her quietly, padded over to her table and opened her bag. She put the picture and her students' exam papers in her bag before she headed to her closet. She went through the clothes her mother had lined up in her closet, already cleaned and pressed and ready at a moment's notice for work. She pulled out black pantsuits with a white long sleeve chiffon blouse and black low heels.

"This is smooth."

Slipping out of her robe, she took care of pre-dressing needs before slipping into her wardrobe. Tucking the blouse into her pantsuits, she stood still for a minute to view herself in the mirror; then she tied her hair back in a low ponytail, letting a few pieces of hair fall out around her face.

"You look so cool," Jiyeon told her reflection, admiring herself in the mirror. She loved every part of her face: her close-set eyes, her bushy eyebrows, her long lashes, her small pointy nose, her natural pink lips and her v-shaped jawline. She got her looks from her mother. She thanked God for blessing her with a wonderful mother. Her face broke into a wide, beaming smile, that tiny dimple playing at the left corner of . "Your tiny dimple makes you even more beautiful," she added, and her smile stretched even wider.  

Her smile vanished as the voice rang in her ear, "My girl, you're so cool 'cause you're my girl."

"Stop calling me 'my girl'; it's so annoying," Jiyeon snapped. "And why are you so obsessed with me?"

The voice in her left ear chuckled. "No, I won't stop; you're my girl. And I've told you I'm not obsessed with you. I admire you so much, my girl."

The voice's response sent goose bumps scattering across her skin. Snatching up her bag from the table, Jiyeon flew out of her room, dashed down stairs and into the dining room. She pursed her lips, noticing that there were a small note folded neatly, a cell phone, a key, a glass of orange juice and a white plate of two fried eggs, two sausage links, toast and beans with a fork on the left side, knife and spoon on the right one, sitting on the table. It looked like her mother was still angry at her. She pulled out her chair, sat down and laid her bag on the table to her right. Letting out a sigh, she took the note, unfolded it and read it silently.

Jiyeon, I've called your dad and told him what have happened today. He said he'll call you, so bring my cell phone.
I visit your grandmother's house. Don't forget to lock the door before you leave.

"Jiyeon! My guess is correct. Mom is still angry at me." She blew out a breath. Her mother always called her 'sweetie', so when she called her Jiyeon or Park Jiyeon, it meant her mother was angry at her. Jiyeon liked being called 'sweetie'—it was a pet name. To her, it showed how much her mother loved her.

The voice was soft but excited as it whispered in her right ear, "I call you 'my girl' to show you how much I admire you and." The voice didn't finish its words. 

Jiyeon rolled her eyes. "And what?" She put the note back on the table, took the fork and knife and started cutting food. Glancing at her mother's cell phone, she started devouring her food. Truth be told, she hated cell phones and found them disruptive. She'd never had a cell phone and had never found a single situation where she would need one. About five minutes later, she finished her breakfast, leaving yolks like eyes on the plate. 

"Tik tik tik—" Jiyeon picked up the glass of orange juice and drained it in one long gulp. She placed the empty glass on the table. "Annoying teacher, be ready. It's my turn to scare you."

She took the cell phone and set it to silent mode before putting it in her bag. She rose to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Then she made her way to the front door. She grabbed the knob, twisted and pushed…but the door didn't budge. Again, Jiyeon twisted, pushed harder and pulled the knob. Still, the door didn't budge. "Damn it!" she shouted, kicking the door.

The voice in her right ear laughed. "My girl, the door is locked; your mom left the key on the dining table."

"Oh God, I forgot it!" Jiyeon tapped her forehead with the palm of her right hand and dashed back to the dining room. She smiled when she saw the key and snatched it, then flew back to the door. Inhaling a deep breath, she inserted the key into the hole and turned. A small click told her that the door was now unlocked. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. When she stepped outside, the door snapped shut behind her. She jumped a little, startled and quickly locked the door.    

Tucking the house key into one of the pockets of her pants, she headed down to the street. She hailed a passing cab, slid inside and told the driver to take her to Daegu High School as fast as he could. As the cab pulled up, Jiyeon opened her bag and took out the printed picture of a gecko. She smiled, looking at the picture. Her features contracted, a frown replaced her smile, wondering why do some people fear geckos? Geckos are not dangerous or poisonous creatures. They don't bite; they just eat insects. Well, fear is subjective and individual to each person. She put the picture back in her bag and rested her head against the car seat.

Jiyeon admitted she had a fear of balloons. She had experienced a balloon exploding the face when she was eight years old—she was inflating a balloon for her mother's birthday party, being careful not to overinflate the balloon, and when the balloon was about half full, it exploded right in her face. It was just so painful and scary. Since then she'd never wanted to get too near balloons, especially while they were being blown up. Why? Her heart raced, sometimes she became anxious, apprehensive and overwhelmed with nervousness that it would pop. She couldn't even watch people playing with balloons or making balloon animals because she got so afraid that the impact of the hand or a wrong twist of the balloon would cause a pop. The sound of a balloon popping frightened her—she felt like being put back in the incident that had transpired when she was eight.  

"Miss, we're here," the cabbie said hesitantly. Jiyeon looked up. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn't noticed the cab coming to a stop.

"You're a teacher?" The cabbie tapped the meter with his fingertips.

"Oh yes, I'm the youngest teacher in this school," she replied as she searched through her wallet.

"Your parents must be so proud of you."

Of course, they are so proud of me. A feeling of pride and satisfaction welled up in her. Jiyeon smiled as she paid the driver and tipped him for the fast trip, then got out of the cab. Shouldering her bag, she walked down the pathway towards the entrance. Noticing Yoona walk among the students, Jiyeon quickened her pace. Yoona had on a white blouse and navy blue pencil skirts, with heels; her braid hung straight down her back. She was adjusting her bag on her shoulder when Jiyeon grabbed her by the wrist and strode towards the left side of the building, dragging her behind her.

"What are you doing, youngest teacher?" Yoona struggled to get free from her grip, but the more she struggled, the tighter Jiyeon gripped.

Jiyeon was aware that she was being rude, but she had to find out who the voice was. Her mother had slapped her because of the voice. And the thought that Yoona had indirectly labeled her as a person with a mental illness made her blood boil. This is the real fact that society treats people with 'mental illness' so badly—these people are exposed to stigma and discrimination, especially when the person is labeled as borderline personality disorder. This person will be treated like a piece of crap. Why? People with BPD are basically written off as being manipulative and attention-seeking, and there is stigma that BPD are horrible people and hard to manage. This stigma comes from mental health professionals. She believed that stigma and discrimination led to aggressive behavior—caused people with 'mental illness' to commit suicide. That was why she hated mental health professionals with a passion. She would never ever see any mental health professionals in her lifetime. She didn't need 'their help'. She knew herself better than anyone else did.

Jiyeon pushed her back against the wall, pinning her against it. Yoona gasped. "I haven't forgotten about what you did yesterday. Now you're being rude, what's wrong with you, Miss Ji-Yeon?" she hissed. "I tell you I'm a straight woman, who's only attracted to men both romantically and physically, so get out of me!"

Jiyeon laughed inwardly at her last sentence. She had no idea why Yoona said that. Yoona cocked her head sideways as Jiyeon brought her face close to hers. "Ms. Im, do you think I'm a lessbo? Even if I were a lessbo, I wouldn't be interested in you," Jiyeon whispered slowly in her ear. "My so-called imaginary voice told me that you're a playgirl. You're a liar. You're not engaged. Tik tik tik, no wonder that handsome man chose geckos over you."

Narrowing her eyes, Yoona slammed her forehead into hers. "Ouch," Jiyeon winced, stumbling backward, but didn't fall. She rubbed her forehead; her lips were pressed tightly together and twitching at the corners as she stared at Yoona.

"Don't ever mimic the sound of a gecko in front of me again!" Yoona shouted, her piercing stare fixed on Jiyeon; her face scrunched up in anger. She took steps towards her and lowered her voice as she added, "You're truly dumb to trust your imaginary voice. It may be a good idea to see a psychiatrist to get you on some medication."

Her suggestion evoked anger. It twisted a knot tight, aching in her gut and nearly setting her flesh on fire. Jiyeon clenched her fists and resisted the urge to punch Yoona straight in the face. She chose instead to look up at the tree and focus her mind on the green leaves. Her fists unclenched themselves as the energy of the green began doing its job: dissolving her anger. It was soothing and calming, like a blanket of soft grass. She felt her muscles loosen and the tension melt away.

Her gaze shifted to Yoona. "Ms. Im, I'm sorry for being rude." Jiyeon bowed her head politely. "And I appreciate your suggestion."

Her expression softened as Yoona touched Jiyeon's forehead. "I accept your apology, and I'm sorry for hitting you in the forehead."

"I accept your apology." Jiyeon's face cracked into a smile. She opened her bag and took out the printed picture of a gecko. "Please accept this as a token of my thanks for your suggestion." She handed the picture to Yoona.

"No!" Yoona's loud scream echoed throughout the school—she stumbled backwards and fell down on her . The thud thud thud of running shoes could be heard, and a few students, boys and girls, gathered, looking at them and whispering to each other loud enough for Jiyeon to hear:

"What's going on?"

"Are they quarreling?"

"I guess so."

Jiyeon huffed out loud. "There's nothing happening here. We were just kidding around," she told them. "The first period is going to start soon. You guys better go to your classroom now." Her lips formed a fake smile.

Some of students' mouths formed an O shape, while others nodded. As they walked off, Jiyeon heard Yoona's quivering voice, almost inaudible, "We were just kidding around? I want to kick your ."

Jiyeon turned her attention back to her. Yoona's eyebrows were slanted upwards, lips pressed into a thin line. Jiyeon moved towards her. "Do it"—she squatted down before Yoona, in a half kneeling, half sitting, position—"if you dare." She showed the picture in front of her face.

"Please…keep that picture away from me!" Yoona implored, her voice cracking.

Guilt tugged at her conscience when Jiyeon noticed that there was a sheen of sweat on Yoona's face as her whole body began to tremble. "Ms. Im, your scream is scarier than the gecko itself," Jiyeon said in a joking tone, trying to defuse the tense situation. "It's fair. You'd scared me to death yesterday, now I've scared you." She crumpled the printed picture into a ball and threw it away.

Yoona let out an audible sigh, a look of relief crossing her features. "Youngest teacher, how could you know I'm scared of geckos?"

"I dreamed of meeting Blondie again. He told me that you have an intense fear of geckos, and a picture of a gecko is enough to scare the out of you." She broke into a broad smile and laughed out loud. "It turns out he's right."

Yoona clucked her tongue, rolling her eyes a little before she got to her feet and dusted off her skirt. "Youngest teacher, just like I said before, it may be a good idea to see a psychiatrist—"  

"I'm sane. I don't need a psychiatrist or any mental health professionals. I know myself better than anyone else; I'm the only one who has access to all of me." Jiyeon straightened up abruptly and placed her hands on Yoona's shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. "Ms. Im, the blonde man in the photo that you showed me yesterday wasn't Baekhyun, right? He was Baekhyun's twin brother, right?" she spoke with complete and utter seriousness.

Yoona shook her head, gaping open. "I have to say I admire you, youngest teacher. I agree with your statement: I'm the only one who has access to all of me."

She blew out a loud sigh. "Don't play games with me—I want the truth—" Jiyeon leaned close to her ear and whispered in a serious tone, "If you don't want to tell me the truth, I swear to God, I'll give you the real gecko."

Yoona pushed Jiyeon away, stepping back several feet until there was a sizeable gap between them. "You're threatening me with a gecko?"

She nodded. "That's correct. I'll hunt you down and find you." Jiyeon let out a small evil laugh.

"Do you know threatening someone is a crime?" Yoona snapped.

"I know, but who cares?" Jiyeon countered. "Now tell me the truth or—" 

"Okay! The blonde man in the photo was Baekwoon, Baekhyun's twin brother," Yoona cut her off, raising her voice. "The photo was taken a week before that incident happened. Are you satisfied now?" A single tear escaped her right eye, racing down her cheek.

Jiyeon froze, her mind racing. Yoona immediately ran off, wiping the tear away when the bell rang to signal the beginning of the first period.