Kibum's POV   Two weeks...two weeks have passed since Jonghyun broke up with me.  The worst two weeks of my whole life.  My grades in school got worse, I couldn't sleep properly, I wasn't hungry, I actually didn't want to do anything.  I felt so empty.  Sometimes, I really felt the urge to hurt myself, to maybe cut my arms open, to ease the pain in my heart.  So I was standing there in the bathroom, glancing at the razor blade I pressed against my milky and flawless skin of my arm.    Should I do it ? Was one of the question I was asking myself over and over again.  Will it really help ?  would I feel better after it ?  Should I mark myself with the scars of the almost unbearable pain that is slowly killing me from inside ?    My hand began to shake uncontrollably.  I couldn't do it, hurting myself...I was too weak for that.  I couldn't handle more pain and also my common sense was ringing in the back of my head.  So I lowered my shaky hand and put the razor blade down on the sink, gazing at my own face in the mirror above it.  People in school told me I looked horrible the last weeks, asking me if something happened or that I should visit the doctor and yes, every single time I looked in the mirror, I didn't see myself anymore.  I was an empty shell of myself.    I let my right index finger trace over the dark circle under my eye and grimaced.  Really, I never thought that I would end that way because of a lost love.  Of course I was able to see Jonghyun every day, also to talk to him and hug him, but who am I kidding, I didn't think a single time about doing it.    I thought about him for a moment.   He told me to get over him, but was that even possible ?   Was it possible while seeing him every single day ?  No, it wasn't, that's why I began to despair like that.    I gulped and looked down at the razor blade that was about to cut my skin just moments ago, shivering as I saw the reflection of myself in it.  My eyes were fixed on it for another few seconds, before I decided to wrap it into some toilet paper and flush it down the toilet, saying goodbye to alleged help.    I ran my hands though my messy and curly hair, sighing heavily before I walked out of the bathroom again, acting like nothing happened.  My goal was the kitchen where my mom was cooking while talking to my dad.  Actually, I only wanted to ask what she was cooking, but as soon as I reached the door frame, my parents shu