His hand, burly yet delicate, tenderly my pale cheeks and slowly made its way to my lips. His hands heated my frigid skin underneath just by his warm touch. How I missed the way he could make my skin glow the brightest of red from the simple trace of his fingertips. 

"How is she doing?" He still has that tone which cried concern since the day of the accident as he spoke. 

"The same as she was yesterday, Taehyung." My nurse, replied.

His hand left my now-warmed skin, and made its way to the machines which cuffed me down. Every time he visits me, his hands will always make its way to the machines, and I could almost hear the curiosity through his footsteps. The quickening of his soles hitting the marble floors. Like a child. But he would never dare press one of the buttons.

"How have you been? Have you eaten?"

"No, No." His voice hinders with a sense of distance. 

"You shouldn't be skipping meals; she will always be here to visit."

"Will she?"

"Ofcour—"

"It's been 7 months."

It's been 7 months. 7 months. 28 weeks. 196 days. I've been here for 196 days – lying on this very bed. For 196 days, I've been laying here, immobile, blind and numb. And most importantly, for 196 days, Taehyung has tried to heal me.

"It's been 7 months. 7 months since she has been put in this 'state'. 

 

 

Before I met Taehyung, I was in a very dark place.

 

A place filled with drugs, alcohol and abuse.

 

"Useless. Pathetic. Worthless!“ 

 

These were only of the few endearing words that I hear come out of my high school sweetheart’s mouth.

 

I’ve become desensitized.

 

Blinded.

 

Even when I do start un-knot the blindfold that my love had so forcibly tied, it only leads me to be bounded back down again by the empty apologies after the memory starts to fade, as well as bruises.

 

 "Hey! Are you even listening to me?!”

 

Kwang Sik

 

My first love, my healer, my poison.

 

He reduced me to nothing.

 

I needed him.

 

No.

 

I need anything but him.

 

Anything but this.

 

Anything that worked as an anesthetic to numb the aching in my heart and my mind. Anything that worked as a hallucinogen that distorts my view of this corrupt toxic wasteland I call home.

 

Anything.

 

_{I was desperate.}

 

 

 

 

This cover is the works of Champagnekissed, a member of the Sugarswinging graphic shop; http://tinyurl.com/qj9ngej