Pain

Immobility

Cold

With the wave of consciousness came all of these things. From the position she was in, Hyun Hee’s back ached and this pain went up to her neck. She tried to move to shake off the uncomfortable feeling, but her muscles would not respond. She felt something cold press against her cheek. In fact, this something was press against the whole side of her body.

She opened her eyes and this was when she realized that she was in a theatre, smacked right in the center of the stage, still in her clothes from last night.

She only had a vague recollection of what had happened, at first, but this grew clear as the minutes passed.

“Another drink, Director Park?” Jongdae, one of the actors, offered, tilting his half-empty glass in her direction.

“Ha. Very funny, Jongdae. You know I don’t drink.” Hyun Hee responded, raising her own glass of fruit shake.

He chuckled, “We’ll see. By the end of the night, we’ll see.”

“You won’t. Don’t count on it.”

“Suit yourself.” he shrugged, smiling before joining the pool of actors and actresses in the dance floor.

If Hyun Hee had a choice, she would have liked the year-end celebration of the cast of Legally Blonde to be somewhere that was not inside a dark, noisy, alcohol-filled bar. Due to the high demand, of course, the management had to push for this one.

Besides, everyone liked to party.

Everyone except Hyun Hee.

When it came to these kinds of parties, anyway. Most of the time, this brand of partying meant getting so much booze inside your system, some pretty outrageous dancing in a suffocating dance floor and involving yourself in something you will probably regret when you wake up in the morning. By the end of it all, you cannot possibly be you anymore.

Hyun Hee had the choice of staying at home, but the apartment had been feeling really empty and lonely the past couple of the days. She had been feeling empty and lonely the past couple of days. If she was not here right now, she knew that she would just end up cooped up inside her bedroom, waiting for something that would not come.

The past few days have been the same. What difference would this night make?

There were no phone calls and no text messages from him. No form of communication whatsoever.

Nothing.

It worried her, but she knew that nothing was wrong with him, physically. If there was, she would know about it. Everyone would.

So, he was fine, he was not sick.

But they were not fine.

They had suddenly fallen sick and she had no idea how or why.

She tried calling and texting first, but her efforts were left unanswered, ignored.

She tried to understand that maybe he was just busy. A short text message would have calmed her a little bit, but none came.

She tried to understand. She tried to rationalize. She tried to make sense out of it.

But she could not.

What was wrong?

How could something be wrong when everything had seemed right?

Hyun Hee asked herself this over and over again and she was beginning to frustrate herself. She was spending—wasting so much time immersed in a pit of frustration that the happiness of the holidays was sinking inside the pit with her.

If she let herself be this way, she would end up drowning.

So she decided to leave the house and be here tonight.

Maybe it would save her. Even just a little.

She was here now.

And it was not saving her. Even just a little.

In a crowded room, Hyun Hee felt alone. Even when she was included in the conversation, she drifted in and out, unable to stay focused on the topic. Whenever the subject finally sunk in and she was ready to contribute something, her group had already moved on to a different one, so she kept silent most of the time, just listening in, only speaking up when she was asked. Her colleagues were company and they were very good company, but right now, she could not keep up.

And they were starting to notice.

“Is there something wrong?” Cassie, a foreign choreographer that she had grown close to, asked.

Cassie’s arm around her shoulders was comforting. Hyun Hee smiled, “I think I should go home.”

“Already? But it’s so early.”

“I guess I’m just not much of a party animal.”

Cassie laughed, “Come on. Stay a little longer.”

Hyun Hee felt grateful, but she shook her head, “I’m sorry.”

“Aw. Too bad. Are you sure you won’t be changing your mind?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Well, okay then. Be safe, okay?” Cassie said, before letting the others around the table know that Hyun Hee was leaving. They all gave similar responses and Hyun Hee said the same excuses.

Taking her leave, she smiled once more, waved good bye, wished them all a pleasant evening, then made her way towards the exit. As soon as she was outside, she took a long, deep breath. She felt a little bad for feeling the way she did, but she was actually glad that she was no longer inside, feeling obligated to mingle and plaster on a smile.

Once she was inside her car, the mask that she wore the whole night fell from her face.

She looked at her watch.

9:37

She had been there for 37 minutes. She had been putting on a façade for 37 minutes. After those 37 minutes, she had grown tired faking it.

Shaking her head, she realized that she never really answered Cassie’s question.

“Is there something wrong?”

Is there?

Hyun Hee started the engine because if she stayed still and silent any longer, she knew she would end up crying. Instead of letting her feelings take over, she made herself focus on the road, and only on the road.

Despite what she said back in the party, she di