Mask

•F O U R•

I've been sitting here for almost an hour and no one's showed up.

I take a pain killer that's on my bedside table for the gunshot wound and lean back in bed. I wonder what's going on back home. Whatever happened to Taeyang, what the girls are up to...

Why me? Why does everything have to happen to me? Did I offend God somehow? If there was a God, he'd have done something.

Then the door opens and a shorter guy walks in. His blonde hair is parted in the middle, allowing a fraction of his forehead to be exposed. His face is defined and expertly chiseled to perfection. His eyes are sharp and his lips are plump as hell. I'm gonna go on a lim here and say he's older than me.

He smiles slightly and sits down. "Hey."

I conjure up a small wave.

"My name's Park Jimin, you're Lisa, right?" I nod and take in his warm smile. This guy seems more decent than the others. He's a lot nicer, and he hasn't called me 'Lalisa'.

"Well, I am here to keep you company. Name almost anything, and we'll do it." He says, getting up.

I bite my lip in concentration, then come up with an idea. "Is there a dance room?"

He nods, "Suprisingly, there is." He smiles. "You dance?"

I nod, "Ever since I was ten."

He smiles. "Okay! Let's go to the dance room!"

"Okay! But..." I wave my hands at my outfit. "There's no way I'm dancing in a hospital gown."

He purses his lips and eyes my form, then snaps his fingers and smiles. "I have an idea. I'll be right back."

He leaves the room, closing the door firmly on his way out.

I sigh. How many times are people going to be leaving? This is getting annoying.

But, a second later, he comes back with a bundle of clothes. He tosses them at me. "Here, got you some clothes. I'll let you change."

He steps outside, giving me privacy to change. Looking at the outfit, I raise my eyebrows. It's just a pair of small sweatpants and a huge black t-shirt.

Then I realize the problem. My sling.

I frown at it, then decide to take it off. It doesn't hurt anymore, so I should be fine. Kudos to the pain meds. They get the job done.

I pry off the sling and relax my arm by my side. I move it a little and shrug. It's fine.

I put on the clothes and my boots that they left for me to wear. Suprisingly, this doesn't look horrible. The sweats are a bit baggy, but not incredibly. It's just the shirt. It's way too big.

As I walk outside, Jimin is seen leaning against the wall. He smiles and jerks his head towards the hallway. "Shall we?"

I nod and we start walking down the hallway towards the dance room. The shirt, which reaches my mid-thigh, is starting to get caught in my legs as I walk. I frown and take the hem of the shirt. I pull it together and twist it, then start to knot it, but Jimin stops me.

"Hey, watch it. Don't mess up my shirt." He says.

I drop my hands. "You gave me your clothes?!"

"Hey, there's no other girls around here! What was I supposed to do? You should be happy I'm sharing at all!" He defends, crossing his arms.

I scowl and roll my eyes as he walks me to a large metal door. He opens it and I stare in awe at the giant room. Mirrors fill up the walls, along with a bunch of posters.