Mina's POV

Waking up to sweat-soaked sheets didn't make the 'good' in my morning. I sat up and clutched my chest, as if that was an effective way to calm down my furiously beating heart. Reaching for my phone with less than ten contacts in it, I scrolled down to the most recent entry. I typed in "Nightmare" while hoping Donghae would understand the situation I'm in. He told me to tell him everything, after all.

I stood up and headed to the closet, as if I had any other clothes to choose from. It would be a long day ahead, I could feel, after grabbing my bottle of medicine and heading outside. My bedroom door creaks so loudly that sometimes I think it would respond if I talk to it. But then again, if it could talk, it would most probably tell me I'm a freak, before it would unhinge itself from the frame and leave, just as everyone else do.

But I went to the separate room that normal people call "kitchen" – when all I actually have in there is a refrigerator, an overhead cupboard painted in an exciting color of pale white, and a sink that gets clogged from time to time. Filling half a bowl with milk and splattering a handful of strawberries in, it was breakfast for me.

"Everyday is a new day," I told myself in the same voice and tone that Donghae uses to tell me the same thing. It wasn't comforting to say the truth, but at least I had something to hold onto. I'm beginning to think that maybe he wasn't the psychologist he says he was, since his medications don't kick in and I don't feel improvement in me. But then again, how would I know for sure?

"It is," said the man in front of me. "You just have to enjoy the wind against your face, the warmth of the sun, all the little things!" he exclaimed and grinned widely.

"That's easy for you to say, Min-guk," I replied. "We're exactly the opposite. Our parents said so. They repeat it to me again and again and again and again and again andagainandagain—"

My phone rang loudly, saving me from throwing yet another fit. Min-guk watched me and never left his seat across mine. "Yoboseyo?" I greeted, realizing it was the third ring.

"Mina?" Donghae sounded like he had just woken up. "I read your message only now. Are you alright? Please tell me you are." There was a hint of distress in his voice and I don't know the reason behind it.

"I only told you I had a nightmare. You didn't have to call," I muttered weakly, finishing my breakfast. There was an awkward silence on the other line as Donghae seemed to have stopped breathing.

"You're right," he said afterwards. "Guess I was...guess I was just curious, that's all. You can always see me after your work...or whenever."

I dropped my spoon and chewed on my fingernails nervously. "C-can I go to your office later?" I finally asked.

"That would..." Donghae responded immediately then paused. "That would be fine with me," he proceeded. I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't think he needed my response. Feeling somehow impatient, Min-guk stood up and exited through the front door.

With the phone still pressed against my ear, "Oppa!" I called out, dashing to the door even as he closed it behind him. There was no trace of Min-guk after I stepped out of the house and into the porch. The sunlight was blinding and so it probably took me a minute to see a package left on my doorstep. Was a rose considered a package? And then I wondered if the delivery man had mistaken my house for somebody else's.

Searching for an address on the card attached to the stem, it was clearly indicated that it was for me. Who would waste money to give me a rose? I wanted to laugh it off, but it wasn't as funny as Donghae's frustrations. I looked around, hoping to catch the culprit laughing at me after I've fallen for his obvious prank. There was no one in sight. Even Min-guk was nowhere to be found.

Young Mina, the card read, you're too perfect to be unhappy. There are a lot of – too many that it will take more than a dozen roses to tell you – reasons why you should be happy. And so I will only tell you twenty. For the first, I will tell you that you have a beautiful smile. I hope you smile more often, but by then, you'll be prettier.

"Min-guk-ah!" I called out, my eyes scanning the neighborhood in front of me. He was nowhere in sight, but then again, he appears just like how he disappears – suddenly. I held the stem carefully, away from the sharp thorns that haven't been cut off. Maybe the one who gave them wanted to pierce and wound me with those. Debating whether to keep the rose or leave it outside, I decided to bring it with me inside.

Closing the door behind me, I rested my back against it and imagined how hard the giver must be laughing right now. Min-guk appeared standing by my bedroom door. "You left this, didn't you?" I walked up to him and presented the flower in front of his face.

He wore an innocent expression and shook his head no. "Did you take your pills already?" he asked.

Suddenly remembering, I found the antidepressants on the table. I popped two pills out and aimed it in front of my mouth. Before I could possibly swallow it, "Should I really go to the psychologist today?" I asked, turning around to face Min-guk.

He traced the marks around his neck with his fingertip before nodding. "You have to get well, Mina," was all he muttered. I took the pills and downed it with water. Min-guk disappeared.

–

I found consolation in the clicking of heels against the floor and the loud abuse of the fingertips against the keyboard which drowned out all conversations that had happened, are happening, and are just about to happen in the middle of the busy office hallway. My sneakers didn't make a sound though, for I'm afraid just the slightest squeak of the soles against the tiles would get me fired.

Heading to my work station with my head down low, "Miss Young," someone called out. I spun on the balls of my feet ever so slightly without me looking up. "Can you sign this for me please?" the secretary asked. I hesitated to take the pen in her hand, afraid she might get infected with what's wrong with me. Instead, I rummaged through my bag for my own pen before scribbling down my initials messily.

There must have been hushed whispers about how weird and awkward I was, but I had long drowned them out since I had landed a position in the company just a year ago. And then I wonder why they would accept me when this job needs to be done excellently and not just well. Mom, mom! I got a B on my Science test! How could you just get a B when your brother got an A? I'm not smart like him. I'm not smart. I'm stupid. I'm stupidstupidstupidstupid–

Pity.

That was the thing I had hated most. From people comforting me and caring so much that they were just shoving their concerns as transparent as plastic down my throat to those sympathetic but never empathetic looks I get, they were all just scaring me that even I began to feel sorry for myself. Oh, I'm a poor little girl. My parents don't love me anymore. My parents don't love me anymore. My parents don't love me any–

I sank on my swivel chair and dug into my backpack for the pills. The depression and insecurity were getting worse that sometimes they go out of hand. I was so insecure that it was a parasite living inside me, feeding and breeding in my guts. In some hopeless nights, I'm figuring it was a disease I was cursed to live with for the rest of my life.

ping my bag, I took the card out from the rose I'd received and gave it another glance. The giver said I had a beautiful smile. I bit my lip, bit it hard to avoid wishful thinking and expecting and assuming. It didn't matter how many times the giver would say I had a beautiful smile. Before I would believe him or her or whoever the giver might be, I would first look in the mirror and assure myself that I'm still the worthless, stupid freak I am.

Breathing deeply, I snapped back to reality and focused on the work that needed to be done. Somehow, solving people's math problems and hanging out with my best friend calculator give me an escape from the damnation that I condemn myself to in silence. And though I always try to remember the good things that happened when things weren't so complicated, I could recall none. And so I just gave up altogether.

Narrator's POV

When Mina entered the office, Donghae was busily plastering Band-Aids on his wounded fingertips. "What happened to you?" she asked softly, sitting by her usual place on the velvet cushion that adorned the middle of his clinic and set her bag carelessly on the floor. "Just held something sharp and pierced myself. It's nothing," he assured her and smiled like it was something funny.

From her upright position, the woman ignored him and collapsed face-down on the cushion. "What was the nightmare about?" Donghae asked, his voice now clearer as he had sat on his swivel chair across her. When she didn't respond, "The same dream?" he pressed again.

This time, she nodded. "What does that mean if I get the same dreams over and over again?"

Donghae rested his chin on his hand and was in deep thought. "You haven't even told me what the dream is about, Mina." And it was true. All he knew was that she kept dreaming about it and that it wakes her up in the middle of the night. "It's nothing," Mina replied, resting her head sideways to look at him. The psychologist, in turn, arched his eyebrow questioningly. "If it's just nothing, then– "

"You don't understand," Mina defended. "It's literally nothing. I sleep and all I dream about is me and my creaking door and my calculator and the pills and me and my creaking door and my calculator and the pills and me and my creaking door and my calculator and the pills and me and my creaking door and my calculator and the pills– "

"Not again," Donghae muttered to himself. "Mina," he called out loudly. She stopped, fortunately, but she had that blank stare similar to a house with the lights on but nobody was home. "It's nothing," she continued. "And that's what wakes me up. The nothingness and the loneliness and the silence give room for all the memories to come rushing back and it's..." Her voice trailed off.

She sat up and fumbled for the antidepressants in her bag. "What memories?" The man remembered his job and jotted down on his clipboard.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, doctor," Mina said monotonously, although her choice of words depicted irritation and agitation. "Nothing has changed. Every single day seems the same to me."

Suddenly remembering the rose she had found on her doorstep, "Well, except for one thing," Mina added. Donghae watched her expression carefully and waited for her to continue. "This morning, I opened my door and saw a flower with a card attached to it. I was searching for a return address or something." She shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because I thought the delivery man must have made a mistake. It must have been for my neighbor or something. I looked for the return address because I just knew it wasn't supposed to be for me."

"Why?" Donghae inquired again.

This time, Mina's voice grew faint. "Because I don't think anyone would bother to make me feel better. I mean, who would like me? That's just stupid."

"Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you think like this? Why do you tell yourself something like that?"

Mina swallowed a pill and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Because I deserve it."

For a moment there, Donghae just stared at her, examining and observing and prying while Mina kept her gaze down at her lap. "I know people who feel worse than you do –  maybe even the worst –  and when they talk to me, they're just too difficult to figure out because they flash wide grins and tell funny stories when in fact they're just dying inside," he stated out of nowhere.

"Then you see me and ask yourself why I'm in an equally bad situation like them yet I don't smile and talk as much as they do," Mina concluded like she could read his mind. He let his head fall sidewards until his cheek nearly touched his shoulder as he watched her with a slightly amused expression. He wanted to tell her, for the second time, that she really was something. But Donghae is afraid she might overdose on antidepressants.

Taking a deep breath, Mina looked at him with a small smile on her face. "I think I know what you're going to say."

"Surprise me." Donghae set his clipboard down on a table and crossed his arms over his chest. "If you guess it correctly, I won't charge you for anything."

With a crinkle under her eyes, "You're going to ask why," Mina finally stated. Donghae pretended to feel bad about it, which she knew better than to laugh at. She didn't want to go that far. "I'm not very good at pretending nor at lying to myself." She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. Donghae took it as a signal to mirror her actions and also stand up.

When she was halfway to the door, "About the flower you found..." he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she had left the topic hanging. Mina froze on her tracks and turned around, feeling embarrassed. "Oh right. I just decided to keep it. So just in case someone comes looking for it, I could return it properly."

The good doctor only nodded and looked down at his hands. "Tell me if you still get those nightmares," he reminded. "Take care." And he watched as Mina walked out the door. He even thought she had smiled at him before leaving, but he didn't know for sure. His gaze fell once more to his hands and the action elicited a sigh from his lips. "It was worth it."