The next few days, I spent in endless sorrow. I was in my room 24/7 and when I wasn't I was eating or going to the bathroom; otherwise I would trudge up to my room and cry some more. I felt endless pain, the burning in my chest the would never pass. I wanted Minwoo, I needed him now!

Weeks began to passed I stopped wearing my hair up, I started wearing dark eye make up and listening I depressing music volume on high. I stopped letting my brothers call me Mory, it reminded me too much of him. Months passed and I generally became quiet and constantly tired. The world was over for me, life wasn't worth living; to be honest I felt like Bella from Twilight.

Before I knew it, the summer was over, to which point I refused to leave the house. My brothers finally agreed to homeschool me, I never left the house again.

A few weeks into October, Ravi thought I wasn't getting enough exercise. Since I refused to leave the house, Ravi taught me a couple basic punches and got me a punching bag. He said I just needed to let my anger out and I could return to myself again.

I found I actually liked the punching bag and it did help with my anger. Soon I made it a habit before bed I would punch the living crap out of the bag and I would instantly feel better. I always pretended the bag was N, call me nasty but it helped to slowly and I mean slowly forgive him for what he did to me.

From then on my routine was set: wake up, eat, cry, eat, learn, eat, punch, sleep. I couldn't complain. The cycle continued like a constant soap opera, without any possible happy ending. I couldn't know for sure but something began to change by the first lights of spring through the window when I couldn't cry anymore; it just felt wrong. I felt wrong, my morning mourning didn't satisfy me any longer. Something in me changed, I was beginning to forget him.