SIX MONTHS LATER...

"We need to talk, Mark," Doctor Niel closed the door after I entered. This was our third session of the week, he was in hid mid-thirties - a specialist in pyschiatry and psychology (I never really knew the difference between the two, maybe psychiatry was for severe cases. Heck, what would I know?) I prompt myself on my usual spot in the patient's chair, expecting him to start our weekly conversation on novices and healing. But there was a change of plans this time.

He took out his report, "So I heard you've been having panic attacks a lot recently?" he flipped the pages. "Your progress over the past six months hasn't been positive according to the graph, hmm?"

I shrugged, "I'm sorry for not recovering according to plan, Rick," Everyone called her by his name, we didn't have official addressing to the 'grown-ups' in Larson House, everyone was equal to each other as long as there was respect. 

He sighed, "It's not about disappointing me, Mark. It's all about your condition and that you'll get better in time. But I don't see your effort, or your awareness that this is serious. Have you been taking your medication? Or did you even follow my advice for stress relief?"

I shrugged again, "I didn't think it'd do much help. Rick, I think it's time you realize that whatever you do, it's not going to help me in any way. I feel fine as long I'm left alone, heck maybe the best way to cure me is to send me back to my aunt."

It was an honest statement, over the last six months I was there - I didn't enjoy one second of it. I despised group activites, I would fake a migraine and say I had to stay back in the dorm. I think I wouldn't have survived the nights if Donghyuck didn't sneak out every single night from the evening, or he'd drive me to even more insanity with his annoyance. If it made things worse, I was sure Larson House had put me under even more pressure than before. 

"You're still convinced by that?" he shook his head in dismay. "Mark, you need to change your perspective. We had sessions, and you've told me what I should know. I know it was hard for you to repeat it to me, but I'm going to repeat back to you so you can see why I make decisions for you."

I closed my eyes, "No, please don't."

"You told me your mother used be abused by her boyfriend, and that for some reason you seem to vaguely remember it in your head. That's because you witnessed it at a young age where you had no idea how to cope with violence, and thus you developed a stigma whenever it comes to physical contact. Because your brain has made up your mind that touching increases the possibility of getting hurt, hence you developed a phobia out of it. And when she passed away-"

"Do you have to rub it in my face even more?" I snapped, my hands were clenched until the knuckles turned white. "I get it, because she's gone I keep having a mindset that touching leads to hurting. And I know it's wrong to think that way, but you don't know what's right for me because you don't understand things from my point of view, Rick."

"My job isn't to understand things from your point of view, Mark. But I do know what's best for you because I've dealt with situations like this, and I know what are the consequences if you don't follow my prescription." he sighed. "If you keep on having this mindset, I don't know how long your condition is going to drag you down. Look at the results, a double diagnosis already."

Only last month, he had proclaimed I had developed social anxiety and haphephobia. Then I was prescribed more bags of medicine and therapies, doubled within a month. I tried running away from the nurses, I was practically a prisoner under observation. A test subject for the godforsaken doctors and nurses and counsellors and-

"Mark, snap out of it!" Rick snapped me out of the trance. I realized I had been holding my breath, I swallowed a lump in my throat. I didn't need another sign to show that he was right, those weren't the things I needed to hear.

The clock struck twelve, and I got up hastily. "See you in the next session, Dr Niel. I....promise I'll try to get better."

The moment I stepped out the room, a whole load of weight seem to be lifted off my shoulders (which proves my point). The next person waiting in line opened the door again and walked in. People were staring, not again. Avoiding eye contact, I zipped past the hallway with my head down - begging time would just go faster for me to reach my room. The voices started filling my head again and I had no way to block them out. 

"Oof!" I wasn't looking when Benji crashed into me up the stairs. I realized what had happened, and things started to get worse. There was constant ringing in my ears, the migraine got worse and I could at least register Benji's voice. 

"Hurry, get him to his room! Where are his pills? I can't find his pills!" I vaguely heard him yell. I felt hands lifting me up, but I was too weak to fight back. I still felt my skin crawl though, like a snake was slithering underneath it. I felt like ripping it off, there was something crawling up my throat, something disgusting-

"Get the doctor! Please get the doctor! He's throwing up!" I heard someone (I assumed it was Donghyuck) shouting orders. The anxiety was so bad I had started spitting breakfast out again, the vomit was all over me and the bed and the floor. If I could, I didn't want to ever open my eyes because I was so ashamed of myself. I didn't want anyone to know how vulnerable I was, but now the whole house knew about it. The pain had doubled, I only wanted to hurl everything out of my stomach at the same time block the ringing. 

Suddenly the ringing stopped, and a familiar Ed Sheeran song started playing. I realized someone had helped me put on my earphones and mp3, didn't Donghyuck take it without my permission the other day? Nonetheless, the music did its magic and calmed me down. 

I out.

"Don't hurt my son!" my mom shouted at the man. I always saw him going in and out of the house, taking whatever food there was in the refridgerator. I never bothered him, but this time when he went into mom's room and took out what I thought was not his - I clung to his leg. 

"Mom says we shouldn't take things without permission!" I had squeaked. "That's not yours, that's my mom's!"

Before I knew it, he hit me with his fist - and it sent me crumpling to the ground. It hurt really bad, I felt the world spinning around me. "Shove off, you little pimp!" he spat at me before exiting the room. I crawled after him to the living room, and at the same time my mom had came back from work. I blinked a few times, then I heard the shouting. 

"That money's mine, I worked for it and you're not taking that away from me!" I heard her shout in anguish, then in pain. The man started slapping and hitting her with an umbrella.

"Disobey me, ?!" the man shouted in foul language, followed by a series of other offensive insults. I wanted to crawl to my mom but she was too far away and the only thing I could hear were her cries. "Do you want me to hit your son too?"

"Please, not Mark!" she shrieked. "He's only four, he doesn't know anything! Let him go! I'm begging you!"

And with that, I saw the man crouch down next to my mom who was kneeling. He caressed her bruised cheek, "Then you have to be obedient, honey. That's what good dogs should do." and he slapped her one more time before leaving the house. 

"Mom? Mommy?" I wanted to crawl to her side, but I didn't know how to do it anymore. She stayed static on the ground, weeping and sobbing in silence. 

That was the one thing I could never forget, the blood just trickling down my forehead and onto the floor. On my shirt, my hands...

"He's awake." I heard two people talking as I struggled to open my eyes. The morning sun was both warming and blinding at first sight. I was in hospital clothes of striped white and blue. 

"How long was I out?" I asked Benji while groaning. Donghyuck was sitting right beside him, with his usual giant headphones draped around his neck. 

"Since yesterday afternoon," he answered. "You had it pretty bad, you know - the nurses started freaking out the moment you started throwing up. After that the whole place was just a hurricane, we had to get five people to carry you out-" he noticed I was turning pale at his statement. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that. Please don't imagine it in your head, just don't."

"Yeah, thanks Mark Lee," Donghyuck added sarcastically. "Because you threw up on the carpet I had sleep with the stench of half-digested breakfast last night. You're on cleaning duty when you get back."

I raised an eyebrow, "It's still there? You didn't even bother to clear it up?"

He shrugged, "Your vomit, your responsibility."

Benji punched him in the shoulder, "Seriously, dude?" and he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Mark - he's not going to let you do it all alone, he's just messing around. By the way, I came around today to check on you one last time before I take off."

I frowned, "Take off?"

He looked proud of himself, and got up from his chair and jumped out and down. "Yeah baby! Benji Pekings has beaten anorexia and mental breakdown and is alive and happy! After one year and six months, I'm finally starting a new life again!" No wonder he was all smiles, he was getting discharged. A pang of jealousy hit my chest, I hid it anyway. 

"Wow, congrats Benji." I said wearily. 

"Yeah, like he's gonna remember any of us sickly looking delinquents when he steps his first foot out of the door." Donghyuck said.

"Of course I'm not gonna forget about you guys!" he protested. "We'll get in touch after all of us are discharged, hang out sometime. And don't let all this bring you down, Mark - don't give up on fighting." then he looked at his watch. "My mom's probably waiting, keep in touch, okay? I'll write to you guys!" and he took off. 

"And I'll burn them all!" Donghyuck replied with the same sarcastic tone. Then we were left alone with no nurses or doctors running around. That got me thinking.

"So," I said awkwardly. "Shouldn't you be in support group or lectures or something?"

He snorted, "Why did you think I followed Benji here?" he waved his lecture pass in my face. "Just wanted to fulfill his wish to bid his last goodbye to you, as if you were at your deathbed. Not that anyone's hoping for it, though." he assured.

I didn't find it funny. Then he took out something from his left pocket and put on the side of my hospital bed. "Here," it was my mp3 along with a box of peppermints. "-I thought you'd like to listen to it to kill time since you'll be here until the end of the week and the peppermints in case you're in for a sugar rush and catching bad breath."

I held it in my hands, debating in my head whether it was valid to ask him. "Was it really that serious? The p-panic attack?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Geez, I really should follow Rick's advice on not triggering you with gruesome details-"

"I can handle it." 

He sighed, "You collapsed in our room, your eyes rolled to the whites and you kinda started suffocating. I remember Benji just barging in and looking through your stuff, he was looking for your pills. Then when you started throwing up he left to get the nurses."

I recalled that part of it all, I wondered if it was okay to ask. I stared at my blue mp3 as I asked the question. "So I suppose you played the music for me?"

"I thought it'd help," he replied. "Since you have it on repeat 24/7 than have any conversation with me. So, you're an Ed Sheeran fan? You have the whole Divide album in your playlist."

It was strange that he even bothered to ask about my music taste, was I supposed to do the same? "Yeah, he makes good music. And you? Die-hard Michael Jackson stan?"

He grinned, "Smooth criminal will always be evergreen." 

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrow. "Not Thriller?"

"Scratch that," he continued. "I gotta stay loyal to Billie Jean, she may not be MJ's lover, but she's mine anyway."

For once, I caught the punchline.