Under My Skin (sequel to How To Save A Life)

by choiminho7264 and falliblefantasy

ch. 1

“Where are you taking me?” I asked. She just stomped into my room this morning and told me to get dressed because she was taking me out. Then she dragged me into the car barely an hour later.

“We're going shopping!” she said excitedly.

“Why? I don't need more clothes,” I groaned.

“Yes, you do. Your jeans are too tight around your , and your shirts are getting too short,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Minhee!”

“What? It's true!”

“Ugh.”

“And I need more bras,” she said. I covered my ears.

“I don't want to hear it!” I said. Once she gets onto these things, she goes on and on, and doesn't stop until she's said everything that has got to do with the subject. Just as I had predicted, she ignored my protest.

“Who would've known that I would go from a B to a C so quickly? I sure didn't,” she went on. I just shook my head back and forth.

“Stop!”

“Did you expect that, Minho?” she pushed. I rolled my eyes and turned away, keeping my hands on my ears. “I mean, I got new bras a month ago.”

“Minhee, I really don't want to hear about this!” I said. She just rolled her eyes and looked back at the road. I mimicked her, secretly relieved that she had decided to drop the topic.

“Look!” I said. I pointed out of the windshield and at the sky. There was a huge flock of birds flying past high above. It looked beautiful.

Minhee leaned forward as she peered up, leaning on the steering wheel as she did so.

“That's really pretty-- Oh my god!” she screamed. Startled by her scream, my eyes instinctively darted to the side. A gasp escaped my lips at the sight of a car that was dangerously close to ours.

There was a deafening crash. A sharp pain surged up my left side. Everything went black.

I moaned as I moved my head to the side. I was greeted with a shot of pain through my head that made me wince. Slowly, I opened my eyes, squinting in the bright florescent light. My eyes flew wide as I registered my surroundings. White-washed walls, a bed, droning of machines, tubes and drips, and the distinct antiseptic smell. Oh no.

The memory of the car crash came flooding back to me. I laid my head against the pillow and closed my eyes. Oh no.

I tried to move my leg to get up, but realized it was un-movable. Opening my eyes again, I saw that it was in a cast. I looked at the rest of my body. I couldn't see any other casts, but I was covered in little band-aids, covering the cuts I got from broken glass. I felt my torso, the bandages over my incredibly sore ribcage. Broken ribs. Sighing, I looked around the room again. I was totally alone.

The door opened and a doctor came in.

“Where's my sister?” I asked. He smiled and shook his head.

“We'll get to that in a moment. Please, let's talk about you,” he said. I didn't want to hear about me though. I wanted to hear about Minhee.

“I want to know about my sister,” I said with a clenched jaw. He shook his head again.

“Minho. You have a broken leg and two fractured ribs. You were unconscious for two hours. You'll be able to get up in about an hour. You can't see your sister until then,” he said. I rolled my eyes.

“Sir, you don't understand. I need to see her now,” I demanded.

“Minho, you can't see her. Not yet. We need to put your leg in a hard cast--”

“Then do it now! I need to see her!” I yelled. I could tell he was getting irritated, but so was I.

“Minho. Just wait a moment, please,” he said. He opened the door and stuck his head out.

“Jina, please keep an eye on him. I'll be right back,” he called down the hallway. A moment later, a woman came in, and he went out. I just crossed my arms and looked away.

In a couple of seconds, the man came back in with assorted colored rolls of cast covering. I sighed and rolled my eyes again.

“I'll just wrap the cast now. Which color do you want?”

“Black,” I said immediately. He nodded and started to wrap my leg up. I just stayed still and let him do it. When he finished, I looked at him.

“I need to go and see her now,” I said. He nodded and muttered something to Jina. She nodded and left the room. A moment later, she came back pushing a wheelchair. The doctor stepped out and she came up to the bed. She helped me into the chair and pushed me out of the room.

I felt helpless as she brought me through different hallways. We finally arrived outside a door.

“Is this it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Are we just going to stay here, or can I go in?” I snapped. She closed her eyes and sighed. Then she pushed open the door and brought me in. Minhee was awake and staring at us oddly as I was pushed in and positioned beside the bed.

I had a gut feeling that this was going to be the worst conversation of my life.

“Do you want to be left alone?” the nurse asked. I nodded and she left. Minhee's eyes followed her out and then she turned to me. Carefully, I got out of the wheelchair, using her bed for support. I balanced on my good leg.

“Minhee?” I whispered. Then I took her hand and looked at her face. A mixture of fear and confusion swirled in her eyes. “Minhee, please,” I said. My eyes were glistening with tears.

“W-who are you?” she asked. I closed my eyes and unable to hold back the tears that leaked from my closed lids. “And who's Minhee?”

“Minhee. That's your name,” I said. My eyes were still closed.

“Minhee,” she whispered to herself.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked.

“No.”

I opened my eyes, suppressing the sob in my throat.

“Minho, I'm Minho,” I said. My voice was really shaky.

“Who are you to me, Minho?” That question killed me.

“Minhee, I'm Minho. I'm your little brother. You raised me because our parents were always at work. You are twenty-one, and I am seventeen. You're the only one who understands me, Minhee. Please tell me you remember me. Please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face.

“I'm sorry, Minho. I don't remember you,” she said. She just started to cry. “Could you please tell me why I'm like this?” she asked. It was barely audible.

“We were in the car. You were taking me shopping because you said my pants don't fit right around my and my shirts are getting too short,” I said, smiling bitterly at the memory.

“What happened next?” she asked. Her voice was all quiet and shaky.

“You started talking about how you needed more bras. I covered my ears because whenever you get started with something, you don't stop talking until everything on the subject is explained in great detail. You stopped talking, and we sat in the car for a moment,” I said. I glanced at her. Tears stained her flawless features as she looked at me. I carried on.

“I distracted you. I made you look at a beautiful flock of birds. You looked, and we got hit by a car, Minhee,” I said, not looking away from her eyes.

“Minho, I know where you're going and I don't want you--”

“It's my fault you're like this, Minhee. It's my fault you don't remember me. It's my fault that you won't be able to finish college and become a social worker. It's all my fault Minhee. I'm so sorry, so sorry,” I said. Then I broke into sobs and buried my head in her lap. She my hair.

Even though she just re-met me, she still comforted me.

“Minho, it wasn't your fault. I'm sure of it. Don't cry, please,” she whispered.

“Tell me about our childhood, Minho,” she said. We were sitting on the sofa at home. We were just discharged from the hospital.

“You always took care of me when I got hurt,” I said. She nodded. “You lectured the kids who made fun of me,” I said.

“What do you think you're doing?” a kid came up behind me and snapped. I was playing by myself on the Foosball table in the arcade. I turned around and faced him.

“I'm playing,” I said. The kid smirked.

“Well, you're done now,” he said and tried to push me.

“I was here first! Go and find another game,” I said harshly.

“I believe I said you were done, punk. Now move,” he snapped. I glared at him. He was a lot taller than I was, and bigger too. I was small and scrawny.

“I'm not done though,” I said. The kid just shoved me and I fell on the ground. I winced in pain because I landed hard on my elbow, and it just made the kids laugh. That's when Minhee walked in. She saw then laughed at me, and ran over.

“What did they do to you, Minnie?” she asked and bent down to pick me up. I wiped away my tears and looked at the kids who were snickering about the nickname.

“They pushed me because I wasn't done,” I said. Minhee turned and faced them.

“Do you think it makes you look tough when you bully a kid half your size?” she snapped at the kids. They shook their heads. “Bullying doesn't make you popular, it makes you mean and un-likeable. So if you ever want a girlfriend, I suggest you shape up.” They nodded again. “Now, I want you to apologize to him, and then go and find another game,” she ordered. They turned to me.

“Look, kid, I'm sorry. We didn't mean anything by it,” the leader said. I just nodded. They quickly glanced up at Minhee before running away, scared.

Minhee turned to me.

“Do you want me to play with you, Minnie?” she asked. I smiled and nodded.

Tears welled up in my eyes. She would never remember all of the good times we shared.

Minhee was doing quite well. I would come home from school and tell her more memories. We would laugh. It was pretty much like old times.

The night she had her first seizure was the night I made my first cut.

We were talking, as usual, and Minhee got up to get some water. She walked into the kitchen and started to use the counter for support. I looked at her funny. Then she fell onto the floor. I ran over to her, despite the pain it caused my leg. Her eyes opened and rolled back in their sockets. Then they closed. A couple of seconds later, she opened her eyes and was crying.

“Minho, my head. Everything's spinning,” she said. I called 911.

I prevented my sister from finishing college. I gave her amnesia, a broken arm, and epilepsy. I gave her freaking epilepsy. She has seizures all of the time. Sometimes even twice in a day. And it's all because of me.

No matter how many times she tells me it's not my fault, I can't bring myself to believe it.

Every time she has a seizure, I cut myself. Just little cuts that started at the fold of my elbow. I deserved to feel pain for what I did, so I hurt myself. It was always after everyone was asleep that I did it.

My cast come off the other day. I was happy to be able to move around freely. My joy was taken away when she had a seizure in the car.

When we got home, I locked myself in the bathroom and cut myself again. I was about ¾ of the way to the veins on my wrist now. I honestly didn't care if I bled to death. I deserve it, anyway.

All of those feelings of depression, regret, and self-infliction came flooding out of me when we moved seats in LA.

You're probably wondering how months of those feelings can just vanish, so I'll tell you: I am now sitting next to the most pitiful human being on earth. I'd never noticed this boy before. He was always in the shadows and out of sight. But now that I'm sitting next to him, I've started to notice him all of the time.

I noticed that every few days he'd have bruises on his face and wrists. He would try to cover them up, but he always fails. Other days, he would come to school looking pale and sick. I never saw him eat, and he was as skinny as a twig. A couple of times, I would see his sleeve slip up when he was reaching for something, and there would be marks on his arms that weren't bruises. I never got a good enough look at them, though.

My feelings left me because I felt this need to help this boy. I just needed to help him.

I learned his name after asking a lot of people. Lee Taemin.

He came to school today and looked totally exhausted. He had dark circles his eyes, and he looked like he was going to fall asleep any moment. He was slumping in his seat beside me when his eyes fluttered closed.

He was asleep for about 10 minutes, and I was about to wake him up when he jerked awake himself. His fingers pulled his left sleeve, exposing his arm.

I stifled a gasp. There were scars on it that indicated deep cuts. Then there were scabs of recent cuts. Near the bottom, there were cuts that were rather fresh and still oozing blood. The red blood stood out on his pale arm. I don't know what made me do it, but I tapped his shoulder.

His head snapped to the side. He stared at me intently for a moment, and then he mouthed, “What?”

I looked at his arm and gestured towards it. He looked at it quickly and pulled down his sleeve so fast, it looked like it hurt. He just stared forward. After a couple of seconds, I talked to him again. I needed to know what was wrong with him.

“Hey,” I whispered. I was really worried about him. He looked at me. “Are you okay?” I whispered.

“Fine,” he said coldly and looked back to the front of the classroom.

“Dude,” I whispered again. He glared at me really hard. “Did you do that to yourself?” I asked. It was a stupid question, yes. But I felt like I needed to ask it. I gestured towards his arm.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. What's it to you?” he snapped. Yep. He did.

Now all I needed to know was why.

“Why?” I asked.

“It's none of your ing business!” he yelled at me. Everyone looked at us, and he just slumped back into his seat like nothing happened.

“Mr. Lee,” the teacher said, “please go to the principal's office.”

He got up and went to the front of the room. He gave me one last glare before he stalked out of the classroom. Everyone shifted their gaze from him to me when he was gone. I just buried my head in my hands.

It had been about a week since he yelled at me, and he hasn't looked at me since.

I didn't tell Minhee or my parents about anything that I saw or did on this matter. They didn't need to know. So after everyone was asleep, I put on a coat and set out. I decided to go and walk around on the streets. He didn't look like he would do his cuts at home judging by all of the bruises I so frequently saw on him. So he must have a hideout.

I walked on the more abandoned streets for almost an hour. I was about ready to give up when an alley caught my eye. I saw a glint of metal in there and decided to check it out. I walked in, and almost threw up from the stench.

There was the smell of paint, a very strong one at that. Then there was the smell of metal. I found that the smell of paint was from the overwhelming amount of spray bottles in the corner, but I couldn't find the metal smell.

Not until I looked at the ground.

There was red stained all over the ground. I stepped back with my eyes glued to all of the patches and puddles. I got to one and bent down to look closer. It wasn't paint. It was blood. I gasped. Then I very slowly looked up at the walls.

They were covered in different colors of paint. There were phrases written everywhere. I made out a few.

What's the point in life when you have no one?

I'm sorry, mom.

He doesn't know what he's talking about.

I'm nothing.

Then there was one written in bold letters.

Nobody will care if I just disappear.

There was one more that caught my eye. It was on top of the rest; the most recent entry.

You're nothing. Just a lowly piece of .

I looked over the rest, and it almost brought me to tears. This boy has it worse than I thought he did. I wonder what happened to him. Or what is happening to him. I took another step back and tripped over a can. I almost fell over, but I caught myself. I picked it up and held it in my hand.

It was a can of black paint. When I shook it, I realized that it was still full.

Something weird inside of me caused me to raise the can to the wall, and press down on the top.

This isn't good for you.

I wrote it on the wall in the space between the two most recent entries. Then I heard footsteps faintly, and then they stopped. I peeked out of the alley. There was a skinny figure standing in the night. Panicked, I set off running just as the person did. I ran around a corner and watched. The person went into the alley.

I didn't hear anything for a moment, but then I heard the scraping of a can on the ground, like he was lifting it up. I listened more.

There was a clang of it being set back down, and then it was picked up again. After a couple of minutes, there was a loud clang and then there was wincing and little pained noises. I fought the urge to go over there and hug Taemin and tell him everything was all right. Instead, I my heel and walked away. I'd talk to him about it soon.

The next day, I saw him stumbling everywhere. He looked really confused and out of it. He also looked pale. So incredibly pale.

When we were sitting together in class, I kept looking at him. He didn't seem to notice, though. I noticed a bruise on his neck that stood out very much. I stared at it for a moment before he turned to me.

“Would you stop it?” he snapped.

“You look sick,” I said.

“I'm not, so quit staring,” he said. He sounded all right, but I knew he wasn't.

“What's wrong then?” I asked. There was clearly something wrong.

“Nothing,” he lied. Then his expression got softer for a moment, and I knew something was happening to him. Like he was about to pass out or something.

“Taemin? Are you all right?” I asked. He did something I never expected him to do then. He told the truth.

“No.”

“Tell me what's wrong,” I pleaded. He dropped his head and started to roll up his sleeve. He revealed the cuts. There were more this time, and they were fresh and deep-looking. They were also right by his wrist. He just needed to do one more cut... I gasped in surprise. But he wasn't done. He rolled up his other sleeve and revealed a huge bruise. I could make out fingers and a thumb like he was held there by a firm grip.

“Taemin, you really need help,” I said. He all of a sudden got a serious face again and rolled down his sleeves. He rolled them down quickly and harshly, which made him grimace in pain.

“No, I don't. I don't need it, I don't want it,” he snapped and gritted his teeth. Something was really wrong with him. Could someone really be that depressed? And who gave him that bruise?

“But--” I really wanted to help him, but he interrupted me.

“End of story.”

When I went home that day, I was all shaken up. I didn't know someone could be that depressed, or that someone would abuse a tiny kid. I kept muttering to myself and spacing out, just thinking about him.

Minhee noticed, and asked me about it. She dragged me off into her room and sat me down on the bed.

“Minho, what's up with you? You've been acting weird lately,” she said and looked at me hard. I just shrugged.

“Nothing, Minhee. I'm just tired,” I lied. She just shook her head.

“You're lying,” she said. But then she sat next to me and sighed. “You'll tell me soon, okay?” she asked.

I nodded. Then she kissed my cheek.

“Yeah. Soon,” I said. Then I got up. I went into my room and stayed there until it got dark. I needed to see what happened in the alley that day.

When I had the cover of night, I went out into the streets and found the alley.

I almost cried when I got in there. There was a pool of blood on the ground that was not yet dry. On the wall was a whole bunch of phrases that just crushed me. I fell on my knees and stared at the wall.

You ungrateful .

Stop being a big, useless baby.

Come back once you've grown up.

You're a disgrace to everyone around you.

Nobody will notice once you're gone.

I started crying as I sat there. This kid needed some help. Now. I had no way to help him, though. He didn't want my help. I was afraid he was going to kill himself. I couldn't let that happen. It wouldn't be right. I cried into my hands, and then I looked up at the wall again. I read the bold entry on there.

There's no one who cares about me.

I just stared at that phrase. I need to help him. I need him to talk to me. I need him to know that I care.

So, I got up and picked up a can. I held it up to the wall. It took me a while to write it because my hand was all shaky, but I eventually got it out:

I care.

Then I put the can down and glanced around the alley again. And then at the puddle of blood. Before I broke down sobbing again, I left the alley and went home.

I checked the next day, to make sure that Taemin wasn't there. He wasn't.

But he was there the day after that.

I heard him way before I got to the alley.

He was sobbing. They were the saddest and most upset sobs I've heard in my whole life. I peeked around the corner and saw him running into the ally covering his face. The sun had just begun to rise.

He kept sobbing and sobbing. I barely heard the clank of the can when it was set down. His sobs got worse, and then there was a scream.

“,” I said to myself and ran towards the alley. Why did I just stand and listen? Why iddn't I stop him sooner?

His sobs got quieter and quieter until he was just whimpering. Then I started calling his name. He wasn't going to die on me.

“Taemin!” I called as I got to the alley and looked inside. He was lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

“Oh my god. Taemin!” I called again. My feet stayed glued to the spot. No matter how much I wanted to move them, they wouldn't move.

I heard a faint whistle sound. Like the kind one makes when they are whispering. He was saying something, but I couldn't hear what it was.

He turned his head around very slowly and looked at me.

“Taemin!” I yelled. He just closed his eyes and went limp. Then my feet moved. I ran over to him and picked up his blood-stained body. His left arm dangled down, and I saw that blood was still pouring out of his cut when I started running.

I was holding him bridal style as I ran through the streets. I got to a neighborhood and went up to the first house. I kicked the door.

A very tired middle-aged man opened the door a moment later. He saw me and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth for a moment, but then closed it.

“Please,” I whispered. “Call 911.”

He nodded and ran to get his phone. I heard a woman ask what was going on. Then she came out, saw me, and screamed. I just closed my eyes shut and stepped away from the door. I looked down at Taemin. He kept getting paler and paler. It was like I could see the life slowly pouring out of him. I cried and stared at his face.

I didn't know how long it was, but my clouded vision was filled with bright lights and Taemin was gently taken out of my arms. They allowed me into the passenger seat of the ambulance when they drove off. I couldn't be in the back because they had to immediately get blood in his system and stop the bleeding, and there would just be no room.

I cried into my lap as we were driven to the hospital. I didn't want to lose someone else. I lost Minhee. Not physically, but mentally. She'd never really remember everything I told her, and she now has to have someone with her or nearby.

I couldn't lose Taemin because I didn't act quicker. I wouldn't be able to take it. So, I cried.

When we got to the hospital, they brought him into a room and me into another one. No matter how many times I told them I was okay, they didn't believe me. They wanted to check me out.

I was cleaned, because I had blood on my hands and a little on my face. Then one of the doctors gave me a sweatshirt since mine was covered in blood.

Then I was put in the waiting room. I refused to call my parents and tell them where I was. And I didn't know what Taemin's parents' numbers were, so I couldn't call them. And I had the strangest feeling that they were the ones who drove him into madness. A doctor came over to me and asked who he was to me, and I said a friend. I hope we are friends.

After a couple of agonizing hours, I was finally allowed in to see Taemin.

He was still pale and lying on the bed. There were tubes hooked up to him everywhere. Most of them were putting blood into his system. I just stared at him for a moment, but then exhaustion took the better of me. I sat down in a chair, and fell asleep.

There are a lot of things that aren't pleasant to wake up to, and being yelled at is one of them.

I heard Taemin scream at me, and it made me jerk awake. I looked at him. He was really angry for some reason.

“Why didn't you let me die?” he screamed. I was shocked. He wanted to die? Oh, God.

“Taemin, I couldn't let you--” he cut me off.

“Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to die?” he snapped. Was he really serious?

“Taemin, it wouldn't be right--”

“It was none of your business! Why couldn't you just bud out?” he snapped again. He clearly wasn't in his right mind. Or something terribly tragic is going on, or did go on. But he really wasn't thinking straight.

“Taemin!” I yelled. He jerked forward, like he was going to punch me or something. But he was stopped by the tubes he was hooked up to. He looked at one of the red ones, and tried to break free from it.

“Taemin, stop it,” I said. Then I got up and pinned him down so he couldn't move. He opened his mouth to yell at me, but then his eyes looked at my arm. I remembered that my sleeves were still rolled up. That meant he could see my scars.

“Oh God,” he said quietly. His eyes were glued to my arm. Then he stopped trying to fight me and went limp. I hurriedly pulled down my sleeve.

“Just rest, okay?” I said. He nodded and just stared at me.

“What's your name?” he asked me when I let go of him.

“Minho,” I said and sat down. It didn't surprise me that he didn't know my name. He probably didn't know anyone's name.

“Will you keep me safe, Minho?” he asked. I was shocked. So he was in trouble? I just nodded.

“Yes, I will,” I said. He relaxed some.

“I can't go back to him, Minho. I can't,” he said. I could see the pleading in his eyes. That's when I figured it out: He was abused by his dad. I felt so stupid.

“I know. I'll take care of it. Just please rest,” I said. I had no idea how I was going to take care of it, but I knew I had to. I had no choice.

“Okay,” he said and laid his head back. He looked really relieved. He even smiled. I felt a sense of pride. I made the most hapless person on Earth smile.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he fell asleep.

“You're welcome, Taemin,” I replied. I got out of my chair and walked back into the lobby, taking out my phone. Hesitantly, I dialed Minhee's number. She answered on the first ring.

“Minho? Where are you? We're all so worried,” she said. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“I'm ready to tell you now, Minhee,” I said.

Okay, there is a lot of information in this first chapter. This was going to be another one-shot, but then with it ending like this there would be another sequel... So it's going to ba a multi-chapter fic. I hope you enjoy it!

Co-author's note: To all subscribers, I edited some parts of this. Hope you've enjoyed it thus far! :)