I open my eyes, and find that I am not in the least bit comfortable.  My face is shoved up against a pillow, my arm is twisted underneath my stomach, a layer of sweat makes my clothes cling aggressively to my body, and my left leg throbs painfully. When I try to move it, it screams in protest, and it takes much of my strength not to scream back at it in pain.  What the hell did I do to make it hurt so badly?

Ah, that's right, I tripped running away from a serial with long fingers and an affinity for Girl's Generation.

I glance at the alarm clock near my bed, and it reads 11:47 AM. I can't digest what that means until I see a bright light shining in my face through the window.  I shove off the thick blankets layered upon me, and take a deep breath.

I limp to the living room and see my dad sitting on the couch watching a soccer match. Beer sloshes in his 'special cup' while he yells at the t.v. I sigh. I have no idea what alerts him to my presence, but before I even reach the kitchen, he turns around and says, "Oh, you're up. We're leaving in an hour to see the doctor." I nod, and he turns back to the game. 

There is no sign of anything Baekhyun, and I start to think that maybe I dreamt him up last night, and somehow found a way to twist my ankle in my sleep. Maybe I never left home at all. Maybe.

However, my father crushes these ideas with his next words, "That was a nice boy, that Baekhyun. You should hang out with him more." I sigh and bite back my response (I do admit, even being with him is preferable to being with you), in fear of being drenched in sweat and alcohol. I go to the kitchen and pop a piece of bread into the toaster. 

It is weird, how accepting I am of my situation. Perhaps I'm tired of expending energy on questioning things that I can't change.  Yeah, that's it.

I devour my toast in five minutes, having not realized how hungry I was. I also had not realized how disgusting I was.  The closest thing I got to a bath was wiping myself with wet paper towels, and I was still covered in dirt and grime. And that did nothing for my greasy, snarling, crap for hair. With those pleasant thoughts in  mind, I went to go take a shower.  

While ridding myself of all (physical) impurities, my thoughts traveled briefly to Baekhyun.  Can people like him even get a clean, hot shower? Deep down, I felt bad for him, I really did. But it was so deep down that the layers of self-importance and apathy completely obliterated those feelings. I reassured myself that there was nothing I could do about it, and despite what my dad said, I would never see him again anyway. 

After my well-deserved and satisfying shower, we left for the doctor's.  I was dreading the half-hour-I-can-lecture-you-as-much-as-I-want-unless-you-want-to-tuck-and-roll-ride. 

He started where he left off yesterday, droning on about not considering the consequences of such rash and plainly stupid decisions.  So I'm rash and stupid. Thanks Dad. It feels nice, especially coming from your slightly slurred speech. I look through my bag for my phone for some music to drown him out, but as I rummage through my things, I find my phone, but no earphones. . That's right, I left it in that cheery 's old car. Without any external noise to distract me from my father, I have to focus on appearing as if I am listening to him and filtering my thoughts from his yelling. 

I endure this loud repetitive chastisement for the duration of the ride. When we get to the clinic, the doctor diagnoses my ankle as a slight sprain.  He sends me off with a brace, some pain pills, and the invaluable advice of "Ice it and try not to walk on it too much."  

My father is not as angry and much more sober on the way back. But when he brings up the topic of Baekhyun again, I become pissed. Extremely  pissed. I really don't need to hear how someone who is not as well off has a much better attitude than I do.

"I really think you should try to be friends with Baekhyun. He'd be a good influence on you."  He looks at me pointedly, and I struggle not to roll my eyes. 

He continues, "He's such a nice boy. I was thinking about inviting him to dinner."

My thoughts roll off my tongue without warrant. "Are you so lonely and pathetic after Mom died that you'll invite a complete stranger over for dinner?"  I mumble this, but he hears. 

I can practically feel the waves of outrage rolling off his body. In a quiet voice that is probably fabricated in this way to scare me, he says, "Excuse me?"

If he thinks that he can intimidate me out of my opinions, then he is wrong. "You heard me."

He doesn't respond, most likely because I'm right and he knows it. Or maybe I hit a nerve. I hope it's both. 

While he simmers in his anger, I am left to wade in my thoughts.  I wouldn't call it an uncomfortable or awkward time; it was more like we had a silent agreement to both be quietly angry on our own. Time passes inexplicably both quickly and slowly until we reach home.

I immediately storm (although that sounds too dramatic. I kind of just walked quickly) to my room, and slam the door behind me. I hear my father rampaging into the kitchen in search of the wonderful comfort that is booze. Falling into my bed, which seems to have become my refuge, I cry out my grief for what once was.

A/N: Wow...  it's been six months since I last updated. I'm so sorry. I must admit, school got to me, but I shouldn't be using that as an excuse. And when I finally do come back, it's with a chapter without Baekhyun (well he's mentioned a bunch of times, but he's not technically in it). You guys must hate me, but that's why I prepared a double update! You'll see him next chapter, I promise.  Anyway, thank you guys for not unsubscribing (although that probably wasn't conscious choice). See you next chapter where I will have hopefully redeemed myself enough so that I can add more to my author's note!