I blankly stare at the white, plain ceiling I've been seeing for three years now. I'm sick of it. I don't want to be in this room that smells like medicines and antiseptic. I don't want to be in this cold, small room, lying on this stupid white bed. 

I don't want to be on earth at all. I could leave. I could leave if it wasn't for him. If it wasn't for the guy who keeps talking to me, even though I don't listen more than half the time. If it wasn't for the guy who always looks after me and makes sure I don't do anything idiotic. If it wasn't for the guy who watches me like a hawk, calculating my every move and stopping me the second I try to harm myself. 

If it wasn't for Jeon Jungkook.

"Why do you even care?" I had yelled at him once.

"If you die, I'm going to be left alone again. I didn't pretend to be a suicidal patient just to land up alone again," he had growled.

That's selfish, I had told him. He simply said, so are you.

 I couldn't argue with that.

He was a heart patient. He had no guarantee for his life. He could die any second. And that thought made my heart clench. I couldn't even imagine being in this room without him. Right now, he was my lifeline. He keeps me alive.

Speaking of him, he had now stopped saying whatever it was that he was saying and was looking at me.

"What?" I ask.

"I'm going to the washroom. Stay put," he says firmly.

I sigh and nod. I was too tired now anyway. I might as well sleep. Just as I close my eyes, my doctor bursts into the room.

"Hey kiddo," she chirps, "how are you doing?"

"Same as always," I croak.

"Had your meds?"

I nod.

She was about to say something when her phone rang. She lifted it to her ear. She lowers her voice but I still hear it. I hear the word that makes me plunge headfirst into that painful memory. The same memory that has been haunting me for the past six years. The memory that makes me scream in the middle of the night. The memory that makes me want to die. To join my loved one.

I hear her whisper, "Hello mom."

My blood turns cold and I can hear my heartbeat. I can hear my pulsing veins. Everything else fell silent as if it was on mute. I shut my eyes and it hits me again.

The zebra crossing.

Me jumping on the white stripes.

A car.

My mom calling for me.

Running toward me.

Honking.

Bright light.

Pushing me away.

Her anguished scream.

Blood. Lots of blood.

Loud shouting. Getting carried away.

Watching the blood drain out of her body as the life drains from her eyes.

Tears run down my eyes. I breathe heavily as it triggers a fresh wave of memories from five years ago.

Getting hit.

Drunk father. So drunk.

Numerous whiskey bottles lying around.

The smell of liquor.

Shards of broken glass.

The burn of alcohol down my own throat.

The sound of shattering glass and the smell of fiery alcohol along with the metallic scent of blood as I smashed a whiskey bottle on his head.

Blood running down his head and unto my hands.

Again.

I had killed someone again.

I was in too deep. I couldn't escape these strings of connected memories. I had to finish it. Even though it meant ripping out my heart a hundred times.

The sirens.

The blinding red and blue flashing lights.

The handcuffs.

The court.

The bars.

The small, musty cell.

The white clothes with the number 98 engraved onto myself.

The stale food.

The jeering.

The cold.

The emptiness.

The loneliness.

I had forgotten my name.

I was no longer Song Yuri.

I was just prisoner number ninety-eight.

A prisoner who wanted to die.

I was released,

Only to become patient Song Yuri.

I had left jail.

And perhaps one day I'll leave this hospital.

But I know I'll never be able to escape my own mind. That I'll be trapped in these memories forever.

I snap out of it as I hear gentle shushing sounds.

I was in Jungkook's arms. He was rocking me slowly, as if I were a fragile baby.

"It's okay," he whispers assuringly in my ear.

I slide closer to him and bury my face in his neck. A serene wave of calm floods me as I inhale his soft cinnamon scent.

"You're okay," he says.

I nod.

Yeah, I'm okay. He's right here. I'm fine.

My safe haven. Jungkook.

I look up to see a look of immense guilt on my doctor's face.

"It's alright," I tell her.

She simply nods and comes towards me.

She hands me a well-kept book, despite it being old.

I lift an eyebrow at her.

"Read it. It contains the stories of the kids who were here before you. The stories of those who left this earth. They all chose to leave but before that they filled an entry in this book."

"You couldn't save anyone?"

She hangs her head but still replies.

"As a doctor I can only give my patients the right push. The choice of whether to live or to give in and die, ultimately belongs to them. I hope you don't make the same choice as them."

I carefully handle the book.

"Why are you giving this to me?" I ask.

"In hopes that it will help you find a new perspective," she says and leaves the room.

Still in Jungkook's arms, I look at the diary, wondering what she meant. It was a diary written by people who were like me. A diary, where every entry is penned down by a different person.

"Let's read it together. And I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't end up writing an entry for that diary," says Jungkook softly.

The tiniest of smiles graces my face.

With trembling hands, I open the diary to the first entry in anticipation.

Please leave comments and vote if you liked the chapter.

~SKY