Unconciousness
Months passed or has it been a year?
Sowon could not tell anymore. Time had lost its meaning, passing through her fingers like sand. Days blurred into nights, weeks into months, and she eventually stopped counting. She'd stopped caring.
She kept herself busy—or so she told herself. Acting courses, meetings, irregular schedules—anything to fill the void that trailed her like a shadow. But even so, everything seemed far away. Detached. She couldn't recall what she had done the day before, and she didn't care enough to check the date on her phone. The world went on, but she felt locked in place, observing from behind a glass wall.
Her private life had become equally unfamiliar. The warmth she previously felt—the pleasure of shared laughter, the security of her loved ones' presence—was long gone. Now she only had silence. Silence that permeated the walls of her home, the intervals between her breaths, and the hollowness in her chest.
And tonight's silence was awful.
Sowon sat on the cold floor of her dimly lighted living room, her back against the couch, a partially full bottle of soju clasped loosely between her fingers. The television was turned on, but she wasn't watching. The words on the TV were only noise, filling the silence that she despised so much. Meonji was snuggled up alongside her, breathing sweetly, oblivious to the turmoil erupting within its owner.
She had another sip. Alcohol burned her throat, as did everything else. She wasn't sure how many drinks she'd had, but it wasn't enough to make her forget or feel anything beyond this void, hurting nothingness.
A year ago, she had a reason. A location in the world. She rose each day with a schedule, goals, and people who relied on her. She was the leader. A sister. A friend.
She was simply... here. Existing.
She cocked her head back and gazed at the ceiling. Her body felt sluggish and sluggish. She didn't even know why she'd been drinking. Maybe it was a celebration. Perhaps it was meant to mourn something.
She couldn't recall.
Her phone sat face down on the coffee table, far forgotten. Nobody had phoned in days. Or perhaps they had, and she just hadn't responded. It did not matter.
A fuzzy thought came to her mind: her medicines, She was scheduled to take them. Right. She needed them.
She lifted herself off the ground with wobbly motions, almost stumbling on her own feet as she went towards the bathroom. Meonji raised its head and watched her with sleepy eyes; however, it did not move. It had been accustomed to this version of her.
She turned on the bathroom light. The brightness irritated her eyes and made her wince. Her reflection in the mirror was of a stranger, with unkempt hair, lifeless eyes, and black circles beneath them. She appeared pale, almost ill, she didn't resemble the strong leader everyone once adored. She didn't resemble Kim Sojung.
She opened the medication cupboard with shaking fingers. Her medicines were nicely arranged and had been undisturbed for days, or in weeks. She was unsure.
She didn't even know what she was taking.
It did not matter.
She was simply seeking something to relieve the pain and make things calm.
She placed a few tablets in her mouth and swallowed them dry. Then a couple more.
Then everything began to blur.
The ground felt closer than usual.And suddenly, nothing.
Her mother had informed her that she was paying a visit. It had been several weeks since they'd spoken properly, she was often worried about her daughter, although Sowon always told her that everything was alright. She ate well, worked hard, and lived her life.
However, a mother always recognizes when anything is awry.
That is why she showed up.
She had brought supplies, intending to prepare a good lunch for Sowon. She had even picked up some side dishes from a restaurant she knew her daughter liked, thinking that it would bring back a little bit of warmth into her life.
Something seemed odd as soon as she went inside the house.
The air felt heavy. The lighting was faint. And then she noticed it: her daughter had fainted on the floor.
Her heart has stopped. "Sojung?" Her voice quivered as she hurried forward, almost falling over the bottles & tablets lying about her. "Sojung-ah! Wake up."
She shook her daughter's motionless body, panicking as she felt for a pulse. It was there—faint but present.
Tears obscured her eyes as she quickly grabbed her phone and called for assistance with trembling fingers. She couldn't lose her. Not like this.
Not her baby girl.
Not after what she had already gone through.
The ambulance took far too long. Perhaps it was just how it felt. She sat on the floor, holding Sowon's hand and murmuring prayers under her breath, pleading with whatever higher authority was listening not to take her daughter away.
And for the first time in a long time, the house's silence was interrupted by something else.
Sobs.
Desperation.
A mother's plea to save the one thing that was important to her.
The hospital was cold. The walls appeared too white, the lighting seemed too bright, and the machines beeped too loudly.Sowon awoke slowly; her limbs ached, and her head pounded. Her vision was fuzzy at first, but once it cleared, she was confronted with an unfamiliar ceiling.
It took her some time to figure out where she was.
The odor of antiseptic. The intravenous infusion is in her arm. She felt a constriction in her chest.
She was at a hospital.
A sound caused her to turn her head slightly.Her sister.
She sat at the window, arms folded, with an unreadable face. But her eyes filled with something heavy. Something fatigued.
When their eyes met, her sister scoffed and shook her head.
"Unbelievable."
Sowon did not answer.
She wasn't sure what to say.
Her sister got up and walked up to the bed, halting just at the very edge. Her expression was tough, but her voice trembled as she spoke.
"Do you even realize what you did?"
Sowon looked aside.
Her sister breathed sharply while running a hand over her hair. "You've terrified Mom to death. Do you understand that she found you?" She laughed, but it wasn't funny. "She rang me in tears, Sojung. Tears."
Silence.
Sowon didn’t move.
Did she know?
Maybe. Perhaps she was aware from the very beginning that this would do harm. Perhaps that is why she had attempted to be cautious, telling herself that it was only another night, another drink, another mistake.
But, deep down, she'd stopped caring
Her sister sighed again, but this time her voice was quieter. "I am not sure what is going on with you, And perhaps you wont even tell me. But this?" Her throat tightened as she motioned toward the hospital bed. "This can't happen again."
Sowon eventually looked at her.
She did not argue.
She did not make any guarantees.
She just stared.
And her sister, observing the lack of emotion in her eyes, gave up trying any more.
Instead, she turned aside and wiped a palm down her face.
"Mom's talking to the doctor," she said quietly. "She'll be back soon." A pause. "I hope you at least have something to say to her."
Then she left.
The door swung closed behind her.
Sowon laid there, gazing at the ceiling. The machinery around her beeped steadily and consistently. She was still here.
She still breathed.
But, for the first time, she questioned whether she really wanted to be.