[CONTENTID1]

After realizing it’s about time to stop her session with the only thing that understood her which was the blade stained with her blood, Seulmi stood up and took a roll of gauze from the bathroom cupboard. She settled it beside the sink before she reached out for the wound antiseptic. A wince came out of her as she washed the blood off her wrist.

She stared at her still bleeding wrist momentarily. It didn’t used to be like this, it used to be flawless with neither cuts nor slashes from her companion, the blade but then was then and now is now, in short, it was in the past.

It never dawned her attention that tears were flowing out of her eyes until she saw her reflection through the bathroom mirror. Her reflection stared back at her as if it’s mocking her. As if it wanted to tell her how pathetic she is. She wanted to break down and cry hysterically; maybe ask someone for help because deep inside, no matter how much she was denying it, she knew how much she needed help. 

Nevertheless, she forced herself to smile softly, her facial muscles slightly quivered because she hadn’t smiled for a long time. But this time, she smiled and then she whispered, only for herself to hear, “You are beautiful.”

“You are not useless.”

“You… matter.”

“Don’t give up on yourself okay?”

Those were the words she loved to say to herself everytime she finished cutting her wrists. Although the cuts she made weren’t enough to kill her, it was enough to make her feel empty. Empty. She had decided that empty was far better than other feelings like emotional pain. So, gradually she craved for emptiness.

She sobbed silently; she didn’t care if her nose was running or if she looked like chaos. What she was anxious about the most was not to make any loud sounds. She couldn't risk her father hearing her quiet sobs. After minutes of crying and relieving herself from the pain that’s been bottled up inside, she decided to take control of her emotions.

She heaved a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that all those words she said to herself were lies. Lies that she liked to hear once in awhile even if it was she herself who said it... since no one else would. It wasn’t like she’s expected someone to tell her that she mattered but sometimes, it’s nice to dream. It’s nice to think that somewhere in this universe, someone, just one, would care for her. Asking for one person was that too much to ask for, right?

Yes, yes it is. Park Seulmi thought.

Cleanly, she wrapped gauze around her wounded wrist after she applied an ample amount of wound treatment. After she took care of the cuts, she finished dressing up for school. Their school use white long-sleeved polo and blazers as top to which she’s very much thankful for. Since the long-sleeved design made the hiding of wounds, scars and bruises easier. As much as she wanted to be helped, she couldn’t risk the pain of being judged. She’s afraid.

The words of her father echoed in her ears, “No one cares Seulmi, my dear daughter. Show it to them and they’ll just laugh at you. Know why? Because you deserve it and you’re better off dead.” Seulmi felt herself tear up but she halted herself from crying. If murder was not illegal, she’ll probably be dead by the hands of her own father. What a lovely scene to paint, she sarcastically thought. She clenched her fist and crouched down to let herself cry again. Maybe if she continued to cry, it would empty her feelings of pain and self-pity. Maybe.

A few more moments and she wiped the tears off her face using the back of her hand. She stood up again and took a hold of the concealer cream and squeezed enough amount on her fingertip. She applied it gently on the purplish mark just above her jaw. Her face appeared sore but she tried to conceal the soreness as much as she could with the cream; she didn’t want anyone from school to see her state like this. She wanted to appear strong. She knew she wasn’t but faking was easier.

As if she wasn’t bullied by her fellow schoolmates anyway, she thought.

With more than enough caution, she twisted the door knob and headed our of their house. As much as she could, she wanted to avoid her drunk of a father which was coincidentally, the loving cause of the bruise above her left jaw.

In record time, she was out of her cursed house and proceeded to walk towards another damned place better known as school. She’s a senior in high school and couldn’t afford to be late nor skip classes. If it wasn’t for her great desire to graduate high school, and get in college in order to get a decent job, support herself and escape her abusive father, she wouldn’t bother to even look at that hell.

She’s come to the realization that her senior year was an important step in order for her to get on college.It wasn’t like she’s learning anything though especially since the bullying started and appeared to have gotten worse. She just wanted a diploma. Nowadays, that’s all you need. Skills? that, if you hadn’t received formal education from popular schools. Good intellect? Another . If you didn’t study in a prestigious school, you’re stereotyped as someone that didn’t know anything. It’s sad, really. Show them that you have a freaking diploma and you finished college from a well-known school, bam, you’re hired.

A good proof of that accusation was her brutish father. He worked as the chief civil engineer for the local government and take a good look at him; he’s a drunkard and a bastard infused together as one. He had no brains (maybe he once had but people change or maybe, he just didn’t want to use it anymore when it came to morals and how to treat your daughter properly aspects) or any usable opinions. Well, except maybe for his skill to help the politicians into their corruption and under the table projects. Yep, he’s very skilled at that.

Exactly 5 minutes before the school bell rang, indicating that classes would be starting in a few, she arrived at the classroom. She could feel a few pair of eyes boring in her back but she tried her best to ignore them and just kept her head low. She’s frightened that if she made eye contact even if not on purpose, it would ignite another trouble.

She sighed. It had became her habit, sighing. The school just started 3 days ago and she already suffered 3 slaps, her lunch food thrown twice and uncountable shoulder bumps along with endless humiliation and absolutely no sorry at all. (Not that she was expecting any apology anyways but hey, a girl can dream right?)

She sat at the leftmost seat in front, just beside the window. She never liked sitting in the back because if she did, it would be much easier for the immature bullies to throw crumpled papers at her and successfully distract her throughout the whole class period. She couldn't afford to be distracted in classes because that might cause her to flunk. Also, at least if she’s in front, the chances of them getting caught by their teacher was higher. That being said, it was safer and more preferable to sit down in her chosen place. Sometimes, using your IQ wouldn’t hurt.

Silently, she settled down on her seat as she ignored the fixed stares she could feel creep up her skin and the deafening whispers of gossip. She took her notebook out of her duffel bag and scribbled all over the last page, drawing whatever came in her mind while waiting for their professor to arrive.

It wasn’t such a long wait, and the door slide open to reveal their ever so lively, and theatrical homeroom teacher, Ms. Jung. The dramatic entrance made Seulmi ease her muscles slightly. She had grown fond of her teacher because it was absolutely impossible to not like her despite her antics.

“Goood Morning! The sun is shining bright and I foresee a nice day ahead of us.” Ms. Jung greeted vigorously. She continued her impromptu speech, and what she said next caught Seulmi’s otherwise unbothered attention.

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