Finding where Jimin lived hadn’t eased her mind, even in the slightest. Instead, it had sent her into a state where she wasn’t living nor dying. She now woke up in the middle of the night, pressing a hand to her heaving chest, unable to remember where she was. Her apartment had become a graveyard; from a mug of coffee that had gone cold on the counter, to canvas with a single brushstroke, and to a pile of clothes she had meant to wash but left on the bedroom’s floor.
Her body craved alcohol, every second of the day. It made everything worse, but kept her hands from shaking too much. She would open a bottle and let the liquid slide down her throat, giving her a brief moment of relief before making her feel dizzy in the worst way possible.
“Addiction is a bitch,” one of her friends had once said, referring to her own struggles. “It pulls you by the hair and slams your head against a wall, leaving you alone to fight against yourself. You manage to get up and it bangs against your head once more, bringing you to your knees, unable to do anything about it.”
Aeri had simply shrugged back then, too oblivious to how much she was struggling. It almost seemed as if a veil was resting before her eyes, refraining her from realizing how much help she needed. She had always thought that people were being overly dramatic and that she was stronger than them, that she would always be able to stop drinking if she wanted. That she could prove everyone wrong if she desired so. But she couldn’t do that, she couldn’t even fulfill her promise to herself, couldn’t even fight back the urge to reach for a glass.
She knew nothing of the person who had arrived in this city with a suitcase and a heart full of dreams anymore.
Every line now came out wrong on the canvas, and she watched them clatter against the walls more often than she wanted to admit.
She had never been good with words. Her medium was color and light, painting movies, not forming sentences. Yet, she forced herself to keep writing in her notebook, putting down all the thoughts that were eating her alive.
Tuesday, I saw her through the window on the second floor. The curtains were open for maybe ten minutes before someone closed them. She was wearing the same grey hoodie and her hair was pulled up into a bun. I couldn’t see her face clearly but she looked tired.
Thursday, the man left around 8 AM. He came back at 11 AM. I wondered what she was doing in between. Did she write? Did she eat? Did she sleep? Did she stand by a window and wish she could just walk through the door?
Saturday, I bought groceries and walked past her building on the way home. I stood across the street for twenty minutes, staring at the closed window. A woman asked me if I was lost and I said yes, because I’m so fucking lost without her.
The meetings she attended somehow helped. The girl she had been introduced to, Yunjin, had this softness in her eyes that made you want to confess things. She never once pushed Aeri to say more than she wanted.
Aeri had admitted to drinking again, and Yunjin hadn’t looked disappointed. She had just asked, “how much?”
“A bottle a night,” Aeri had pressed her lips together. “Sometimes two.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
Aeri had furrowed her brows slightly, bowing her head. “Awful, I feel like I’m getting out of my depth.”
Yunjin had sighed softly and nodded. “That sounds about right.”
Aeri liked her honesty the most. There was something liberating in not being told that she was strong, brave or able to overcome this. Yunjin was just there to acknowledge that yes, this was hell, and that no, there was no easy way out of this.
Aeri never shared much in comparison to other people who liked to let it out all, cry and try to find comfort. But she liked it that way. Recovery had never been about how badly someone was affected, it had always been about showing up even when you didn’t want to, even when every cell in your body screamed for you to go back home and drink until numbness took over your body.
She had been sitting in the café across from Jimin's building for the past three hours, her gaze lost on passing cars, people walking past. The door to the building opened and her whole body stiffened in anticipation. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white from adding too much pressure onto the surface. She blinked several times to try and focus on what was happening.
The man walked out, his phone pressed to his ear, his face contorted in anger. Jimin walked out a few seconds after, her head down, her hands tucked into her pockets. Aeri swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her heart clench inside her chest.
Jimin stopped walking when he said something Aeri couldn’t quite catch, but she could see how angry he seemed to be.
Aeri held her breath when he turned around, and nothing could have prepared her for the furry that took over her body when he backhanded her across the face. It almost seemed as if everything had happened in slow motion.
She had seen Jimin’s eyes widening, fear taking over her, and then her head had snapped to the side with force. Had seen her stumbling back, catching herself against the nearest wall, and just standing there, with her hand pressed to her cheek.
The worst was that Aeri couldn’t do anything about it, not even when he grabbed her by the arm, yanking her close only to shout something to her face. She was frozen in place, unable to process what was happening. Jimin nodded, over and over, unable to do anything else, unable to fight back.
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