BLACK SWAN||PJM||

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗑

∙・•・•∙・•✿•・∙•・•・∙

𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐀

Waking up on Thursdays always came with the same suffocating feeling of something restricting my breath, a cruel, ice-cold pressure winding itself around my chest, squeezing and pressing my lungs so tightly that the air meant to enter them was denied entrance. As soon as the alarm clock went off, the noise piercing through my skull and making me wince, the realization dawned on me of what day it was, making me wish that I could just pull the blanket over my head and fall asleep in its warm, cozy and safe embrace.

But unfortunately, I had to get up. Unfortunately, I had to pretend to be strong, brace myself for the hospital visit, and hope that I wouldn't break before returning home. Admittedly, the house I had grown up in also held painful memories, but it mostly reminded me of the giggly, sweet moments I had spent with my mother and was a refuge from all my worries, offering a sense of safety like a warm embrace, sending me back to a time in the past when everything had still been alright. When I had been blissfully oblivious to what my mother was going through to allow me to experience a carefree childhood, utterly unaware of the tumor silently growing in her brain. By now, the tables had turned in a very sadistic way– now that my mother was sick to the point that she didn't even recognize her daughter anymore, I was the one who had to work like a demon, trying to scrape enough money together to pay the awful hospital bills.

Dreading to face the despairing, devastating sight of my sick mother later that day, I had to practically force myself to stumble out of bed, groggily picking out the black clothes required for my job in the café and stumbling towards the bathroom to get changed.

Even after I had finished washing up and left the bathroom, my motivation to start the day was still lacking, fear clogging my chest, so I just quickly scarfed down a few spoons of cereal, abandoning the bowl soon in the sink to clean it up in the evening. When picking up my bag at the door and getting ready to leave, I suddenly stilled and shot a glance to the upper floor that was still silent, not a sound emitting from it as my silver-haired tenant, who wasn't much sweeter than he had appeared to be at first, still seemed to be fast asleep.

Well, at least one of us had the privilege to start the day with a pleasant good night's rest, not having to worry about facing the shell that had once been their mother.

Even when I arrived at the café after a car drive with Mrs. Lee, who animatedly talked to me about the shenanigans of their adorable doggy Beety, obviously trying to cheer me up but failing to do so, my depressing thoughts were still occupying my mind, the cold fear filling me making my head ache and my breaths shallow. But despite Areum and Mrs. Lee failing to distract me from my worries, I at least tried to pull myself together for the customers, not wanting to negatively affect the usually warm and sweet atmosphere in the café with my gloominess and distress. And my attempt seemed to work; while some of the customers shot me questioning and worried looks when my eyes drifted off to stare in the distance during a conversation or when the happy and polite mask slipped off for a second to reveal my pained expression or when my movements seemed a tad bit too jittery and hasty to come off as natural and unbothered, nobody directly questioned my condition as I managed to cover up each incident immediately with a reassuring smile.