"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."
-Jalaluddin Mevlana Rumi

 {  Epilogue }

Yeri was sprawled out on the floor of her bedroom, half of her body leaning against her bed. In her fist, she clentched an empty bottle of pills. She couldn't feel her face, and she wasn't sure if that was because she had just woken from her coma, or because of the pills. Her eyes and bedsheets were stained with tears. She was alone, when she woke up, but that wasn't completely surprising to her. She had been sleeping for three days, and apparently the staff at the hospital considered her a miracle. They had gathered around her and soon she was free to leave the hospital. Miraculously, the only bones she'd broken in her body was dislocating her arm. So she had treaded home with a cast that afternoon after all the following checkups. 

Yeri's breathing was becoming shallow, and she could feel her own mind fading in and out of the room. All of the pain she had forgotten while she was asleep was now here with her. All of the headaches. All of the burdens. All of the loneliness. Her body felt as numb as her breath was, and she had struggled to open the bottle cap for her sleeping pills. Now, as she lay there almost unconscious, she longed for Johnny more than anything. She wondered if it was Johnny she longed for, or if it was herself. Perhaps she longed for the Yeri in Johnny's dream. The Yeri with flowers in her hair, who smiled