Save Me

8

   Year old scars seem to bleed all over again.

   I stumbled along the sidewalk, dark bottle in hand, just like old times. Neon signs flicker pitifully behind me, letting everyone know the bar is open.

   I trip and catch myself, cutting my hand on the broken glass littering the streets in the process. I watch the blood well up where the skin is torn, the glass dust making it sparkle.

  I wash the blood from my face, picking shards of glass out of cuts. It reminds me of when my mom used to put Band-Aids on my knee when I scraped it, playing outside. If only she could see me now. I doubt she would kiss my cuts better, knowing it was my own drunken fault. I laugh at the thought. How disappointed she would be, if she knew her only son was a drunk. I try to shake the thought away and instantly regret it, seeing it only intensified my pounding headache. 

   My mind is fuzzy as I stagger up to my apartment door. I go to unlock the door to find its already open. I look inside to see my dad standing there.

I blink a couple of times, no longer able to tell if I am imagining it or not. He steps forward, eyeing the bottle in my hand like it's a venomous snake. He frowns at me.

"Well. I see you've picked up an old habit." My vision blurs.

I try focusing on him. My eyes aren't cooperating.

   "You would know." I spit back, or at least try too. Everything is a haze. He raises his hand, and I flinch, all the fight leaving me. But the blow never reaches me, because my legs buckle beneath me and I fall.

and then i'm floating.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, to find myself nose to nose with....
"Hoseok!" I yell jumping back. "Hey Yoongs." He smiles at me, dimples peeping out. I feel tears well up in my eyes. I fall to my knees, clutching at his shirt. "I'm so sorry." He pats my head and I look up. "No need to be." He smiles again. "Yes there is. I'm- I'm the reason your dead." His smile disappears. "Don't say that." "But its true." He pulls me up and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. "No. You are the reason I lived so long. Now stop beating yourself up. You have other people to worry about besides yourself." I shake my head. I had no one. He grabs my hand and pulls me along, until we reach a table with nothing on it except... "A photo album." Hoseok nods. "Open it"

I open it to a random page only to see a younger version of Jimin staring up at me. He is smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "That's him on his 16th birthday." Hoseok says. I flip through each page after, and each one simillar. The only thing changing is how old Jimin is. I flip to the next page and find a picture missing. Hoseok rubs my back. "Why isn't there a picture here?" He sighs. "He didn't take a birthday picture that year, because he was in the hospital. His father had just had a heart attack." My throat tightens. Hoseok keeps talking. "Three hours later he died. After that, him and his mother moved to the city. That was a year ago today." I flip through the rest of the album just to find it empty. "He didn't take a picture this year either. Do you know why?" I shake my weakly. "Because he is out there in the rain as we speak, looking for you." I grip the table until my knuckles turn white.

       Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
     I look around. I find myself lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by machinery. My stomach is cramping and I feel like I have swallowed a bucket of nails, then had my brain replaced with cotton. But my heart is definitely intact. For the most part.

I look around. I find my stuff and leave the hospital room before anyone knows I'm awake.

 
Look what you've done now, you idiot. Screwed everything up, like you know how best.