Chapter 3 : the nightmare
Darkness is never silent, at least not for Mingi.
He no longer sees the walls of the hospital, but the walls of his childhood home. That house that watched a child grow up walking on eggshells from morning to night, a child who heard the sound of a hand against his cheek far more often than his parents telling him they loved him.
Mingi comes home from school like every day, he’s in middle school. His days are mechanical, following one after another but perfectly identical: he wakes up, showers, gets dressed, brushes his teeth after eating breakfast, takes the bus to school, studies all day, takes the bus back, comes home, eats, showers, does his homework, then goes to bed. All the time. He doesn’t really talk on social media because he doesn’t really have friends, just classmates he gets along with but who become strangers once they pass the school gates. Mingi never complained about it; he’s not the type to be surrounded by friends, to get flirted with by girls, or even to be top of the class. So of course others don’t pay much attention to him.
But that day, he never forgot it.
He came home with a heavy heart. He had received the results of a math test they had taken a few days earlier, one he had studied hard for. He got a bad grade. And that didn’t go well with his parents, who saw it as clear proof that their son was worthless and would never achieve anything with grades like that. Mingi was confronted during dinner, eyes fixed on his bowl of soup, nails digging into his palms to hold back the tears forming at the corners of his eyes while his father was red with anger. He had already taken two slaps. For a bad grade. The third one landed, so hard that Mingi almost fell off his chair. The anger grew so big that the words came out on their own, like a rabid animal finally breaking its cage and throwing itself at the tormentor who had tortured it for so long. The words came out like claw strikes, brutal bites.
“I’m sick of you! Sick of your voice, sick of your face, sick of your violence!”
“You’re not even a fucking father, you’re just a bastard who thinks violence solves everything!”
“Why did you have a kid if it was just to hate him?!”
And what followed broke him deeply.
The hand grabbing his collar and dragging him to his room, throwing him to the floor and slamming the door behind him. Mingi still remembers far too well the pain he felt when the belt struck his back. The leather against his skin, the cries of pain mixed with his father’s shouts of anger, the tears hitting the floor, then the coldness of the wooden floor against his cheek when the ordeal finally ended and his father shoved him aside. Mingi probably never cried as much as he did that day. From physical pain, emotional pain, rage, fear, disgust. Everything at once. He thought someone was crushing his heart or trying to rip it out. What difference did it make? Either way, he would have preferred not to be there anymore than to endure his father’s fury again. Maybe that’s when he realized that hell isn’t necessarily the place where bad people go after death, but maybe the place where you live, with people who are their own version of the Devil.
Mingi cried all night, for hours, he emptied all the water in his body. His back hurt so much he had to lie on his stomach. He tried to treat his pain himself with a washcloth and ice cubes, hoping the cold would help, and it worked temporarily. The next day was very hard, his back burning, covered in distinct marks from the belt against his skin. Of course, he had to keep the façade of the quiet student with few friends who pays attention in class and works at home even if his grades don’t follow.
“You’re nothing but a mistake, what did I do to deserve a failed son like you?”
Mingi wakes up with a start, a voice near him pulling him out of sleep. He inhales deeply, heart beating fast in his chest. He turns his head and sees him.
The nurse closes the door and approaches the bed. Has it already been three hours? Mingi doesn’t even remember sleeping that long. Yunho is holding a sheet of paper in his hands, which he places on the chair.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you so abruptly. How are you feeling?” the nurse asks, his soft voice contrasting sharply with the coldness of the room.
“Uh no, it’s nothing. I’m fine, I think I just needed to sleep a bit. It’s been… a while since I’ve slept well.”
“When I came in…” he hesitates before continuing, “you seemed to be having a bad dream.”
Mingi frowns. He hates when people see through him. He hates even more when someone sees him in the middle of a nightmare, remembering his past, seeing his parents ruining his life. He sighs and shrugs.
“It’s nothing,” he says almost coldly. “So? The results?”
“Well, you don’t have any particular issues, your bloodwork is good.”
“Good, then I can leave.”
“Not tonight,” Yunho replies.
Mingi looks at him and raises an eyebrow. Why can’t he leave if everything is fine? Yunho checks the IV bag again. He looks at Mingi and understands his question without him needing to ask it. Of course he wants to go home, no one wants to stay here forever. But it’s not his decision, nor Yunho’s. Mingi has to stay under observation for the night, so the doctors can be sure he can leave safely and won’t be at risk once outside.
“Your heart is still fragile, Mr. Song. It’s better if you stay tonight. Tomorrow, you might be able to go home.”
“Might? I can’t settle for a ‘might’, Mr. Jeong. I want to be sure I can leave this hospital as soon as possible.” Mingi raises his voice slightly, mentally exhausted from the last few hours.
“I’m just a nurse, I don’t have the authority to let you go. So be a little patient and wait for the specialists’ updates. It won’t hurt you to learn patience and understand you’re not the only one here.”
His voice comes out harsher than he intended. Yunho sighs, damn, that’s not how he should talk to patients. Especially since Mingi doesn’t seem mean, he just seems… tired. Deeply tired. Yunho lets go of the IV bag and walks around the bed to pick up the results sheet he had placed on the chair. With his back to Mingi, the nurse speaks again.
“Sorry for raising my voice. It wasn’t directed at you.”
Surprised, Yunho turns around, confusion and incomprehension in his eyes.
“Thank you, for what you do. I’m just… a bit overwhelmed by all the shit happening to me right now. I respect your work.”
Yunho freezes, lips slightly parted in mild surprise. No one has ever thanked him for what he does. Usually patients complain when they’re not taken care of immediately. Sure, Mingi is impatient and only thinks about leaving this bed with a mattress hard as concrete, but he respects what Yunho does, the care he gives him, the patience he shows. And that’s rare in his job. At least in this hospital. A faint smile stretches Yunho’s lips as he bows slightly in thanks.
“I’m just doing my job. Now get some rest, it’s going to be a long wait until tomorrow.”
“You too… get some rest.”
Yunho stays silent for a moment, then nods and leaves the room. Mingi looks at the door, then lays his head back on the mattress.
