Scarlett Scars (Stray Kids FF)

Chapter 57

Pov: Ra Minji

I'm used to feeling nauseated from time to time. It's normal. The doctor warned me of all kinds of side effects.

But never had it come to the point where I actually threw up.

I scrambled on the ground, trying to find my phone that had slipped out my pocket when I'd rushed in. Dialing my doctor's number, I asked him about how normal my symptoms were, my voice coming out shaky and pathetic. He assured me that I was going to be fine, saying that the genius had already predicted these side effects.

I washed my face, trying to rinse the foul taste of vomit off my tongue. The girl in the mirror greeted me with tired eyes. Why did she look so defeated? Where did all her acting prowess go?

Now what? How is she supposed to explain herself to Minho or his mother?

Food poisoning. She'll blame it on food poisoning.
Or should she blame it on the weather? She and Minho had eaten the same things all day, after all.

As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway, he was right there, waiting in front of his room. He silently checked my temperature and as unfortunate as it was, I was experiencing another hot flash.

This is too much.

Why do I..

Why do I have to live like this?

It's not fair. I want to be normal.
Why can't I be priveledged like everyone else?
What have I done to deserve this?
I want to live.

The self-destruct button has activated and the countdown is loud and clear.

My own cells are betraying me.
My biggest enemy is my own body.

I am slowly killing myself.

"Minji?" he whispered, "Are you sick? Is this why you were trying to get me to come home earlier? Why did you hide it from me?"

No. I was fine before we got into the bus. The reason I wanted you to go home was because you seemed sleepy.

I can't say anything out loud. I don't feel like talking, so I'll just shake my head.

"Rest first," he said, taking me to a room I hadn't entered before. There was a bed on the side and he gently made me sit on it. The heat of my body got me feeling incredibly sluggish, but it burned too unbearably for me to actually sleep. The sensation on my skin was unexplainable, specially around my cheeks, neck and chest.

My chest wasn't just burning, it was in pain; it was weighed down by invisible masses. Something in there was beating painfully.

He carried a chair from the corner of the room and placed it next to the bed, quietly sitting down. "If you're sick, you should have just told me," he sighed, looking down. He was treating me too gently, his voice tempting my eyes to close shut.

If you really want to help, stop caring like this. It's only making me more miserable. Stop giving me hope. You're unreachable. Everything is.

He pushed the covers aside for me to rest while his mom walked in with the porridge. "Be careful. It's hot," she said, leaving the bowl on the table beside me, "You must have caught a cold." She covered up my body with the sheets and smiled.

A cold.. Why didn't I think of that?

Probably because I've been too healthy while growing up. It's always been impossible for me to catch a cold.