Rehab.

It was not where she wanted to be. Not where she felt freedom wedged in the crevices of her fingernails. No. Freedom was long gone. Freedom was taken away from her just as she began to fall in love with it. Freedom is dead.

And now they’ve put her in another prison far away from the world.

She stares at the ceiling of her confines. It’s still the same pristine white as it was yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Save for that yellowing spot on the left corner farthest from her bed. The mark of a water stain. The mark of imperfection. She wonders if she’ll be here long enough for that stain to reach her. The squeak of the door introduces a man in purple scrubs as he carries in a tray full of food and medication. That ever-present yet pathetic attempt of a smile adorning his face as his eyes shone like dull charcoal.

“Hey.” He places the tray on her bedside table.

She stays in her position on the bed, staring at the ceiling, not even bothering to greet him. Of all the nurses here, he might be the only one willing to put up with her attitude.

“I’ve brought your food,” he says gently, as if talking to a child. “There’s the colours of the rainbow in it. Just so it’s not so dull.”

He makes light conversation like he does everyday.

She finally turns her head towards him at the mention of food. Sure enough, there’s an assortment of colours, from red to green to blue. Even her medication seems more alive today. But her eyes never even took a wandering glance at the tray. Instead, they were trained on the male nurse standing awkwardly off the side. A scowl on her face.

And like everyday, she replies with the same venom and vigour. “I’m not a child.”

The nurse tries to stifle a laugh. “Maybe if you didn’t act like one, I wouldn’t have to treat you like one. Now eat.”

The girl may be stubborn, but she did what she was told. It’s what she knows best after all. She chews her food slowly, the swallow being the hardest part, emptying her stomach being harder still. That sick feeling in the pit of her stomach forcing all its contents to move into a barf bucket. He stares at her with pity in his pathetic eyes. Sadness gleaming inside the depth of them. But she doesn’t need his pity

So he finally leaves her alone. The nurse in the purple scrubs takes the tray and the bucket and leaves her alone. The girl wishes that was the end of that story. But wishes can only do so much. He’ll be back tomorrow. But for now, the nurse leaves her curled up in bed. In a mess. Inside her own mind. She’s not insane. No.

But she’s not entirely sure she wants to be sane either. Not when the twisted corners of her mind were her places of comfort. The place where he is

She looks towards the empty space beside her, half expecting to find him there. But the white sheets snuggled around the mattress without creases, without the presence of another body. So she imagines and she remembers. She imagines his long body too big to fit on this small bed, his dark clothing too small to fit on his long figure. Knees bent and body curled like a baby. She remembers how he would stare at her through tired eyes and dishevelled hair, as if he’d been thinking too much. Thinking of running away. A shy crooked smile on the corner of his lips would appear as she stares too long at his hypnotising gaze. The pale white of his skin made whiter by the midnight strands of his hair. He was porcelain under her fingertips. If only she could touch him.

Gunwoo

 “Hi,” she whispers. “Hi Gunwoo.”

The image of him smiles wider.  But he keeps silent. That image of him is always silent.
She’s already forgotten his voice.

She feels the tips of her fingers on her lips as she tries to recall that feeling. But the soft touch of her fingers on her dry mouth can do nothing but remind her that that was where he had once placed his lips. She swore, she said she would never forget him. But the hand she reaches toward his face holds on to nothing. Fingers curling around thin air, scrunching up the perfect structure of the pristine white sheets. Marking creases. Marking imperfection. Water droplets from her burning eyes staining the pillow as tears are given their freedom. 

She’s already forgotten his kiss.

Where did you go? Why didn't you take me with you?

There was a sad reality that she could never face. They didn’t take freedom away from her. They were not that cruel. No. It was the fact that freedom walked away and left her to rot in this place that causes this same misery day by day.

She wishes he could be with her right now. To come and take her away. And tell her he made a mistake.
But wishes can only do so much.

So here's the first chapter for my first ever fanfic! 
the chapter seems so short though... what did you think of it?