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Hello guys I am back. This chapter is a big downer, it makes me really worry about Sister Sang :( ...but then I'm writing this book so I need to calm down HAHA. I just wanna skip to the part where all 14 of them are with her and life is good but uhhh 29389283 more chapters to go LOL, enjoy chapter 3 out of 29389283???? Also I read the comments and you guys are so sweet, let's revel in our mutual love for the academy cuties :)))

Sang

It was freezing out, and the distance home seemed unbearably long compared to the short misty puffs appearing every time I breathed into the frosty air.

I really needed to invest in a bike, but I probably wouldn't be able to afford one in a long while.

I've been working at Wil's since the end of my junior year, but my paycheck was only enough to cover rent, basic groceries, and my mom's medication.

I wanted to teach that Victor Morgan and his flirty buddy Lucian a lesson about money, but I could barely save enough of my own.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't get another job. I already worked at Wil's every weekday, and I had no time to study. I could also maybe ask for more hours, but the bakery schedules were already a mess as it was for Wil, and I couldn't stress him out even more.

This really troubled me the whole way home. I was at a crossroad. I could either be productive in the face of my obstacles or I could just hibernate until the winter was over.

Thankfully, I reached the house before my fingers could fall off. My bed was just a few steps away, and I was so tired. With that little ray of hope in mind, I eagerly unlocked the door, only to gape at the sight before me.

The house was in total disarray.

The furniture was destroyed and pushed around haphazardly, the grandfather clock toppled over, the couches moved about and the kitchen littered with broken glass.

"Sang! Sang, where were you?" Mother demanded.

She was clearly the culprit of the indoor hurricane, the blood on her knuckles a dead giveaway. She sat in the middle of the living room, on top of a completely splintered wooden table.

She looked absolutely worn out, her long hair tangled up and matted with sweat, her eyes sunken and her skin pale.

"I was at the bakery," I answered, rushing to help her up. I could barely support her weight as she clutched onto my arms, fingernails digging.

"The bakery..." she scowled.

"Yes, my work," I reminded her. I struggled to help her to the couch, which was clearly shoved aside. It was even harder because she kept scratching at my arms with her nails.

"Did you take your medicine this morning?" I asked worriedly.

She shook her head no, a resigned look on her face.

After settling her on the couch, I rushed to get her medicine from the kitchen cabinet. My shoes crunched the glass on the kitchen floor, and I had to pick up the random appliances tossed around.

My poor toaster got chucked.

There were a few glasses left unscathed, so I filled one with some water before making my way back to the living room.

"No Sang, no," she said as shoved my arms away.

"You need to take these," I reminded her.

"I don't need that shit," she scowled, standing up shoving me back.

"Mom, please. You need to take your medication," I insisted.

My hands were occupied, so I couldn't stop the swing of her fists as she smacked the contents out of my hand, the glass of water shattering at my feet, and she pushed me out of her way. I saw the pills fall a little under the couch behind her.

I reached down to pick up the pills, but she used her legs to kick me away. "I don't need it Sang! I don't need it!" I cried out as she landed a kick to my ribs.

She kept trying to shove me away from her and the pill, and I was almost about to fall back into some of the broken furniture if she hadn't given up her physical pursuit.

But she clearly had a exhausting night and could not handle that much physical exertion. She fell back onto the couch, her aggression tamed as her eyelids dropped. I went to fetch her a blanket and pillow, but she refused it too.

I watched her as she lay there in silence, not quite sleeping as she looked off into nothing with a scowl on her face.

Her eyes met mine, hers fueled with hatred and mine with confusion. She cried out in pure frustration. "Oh Sang, you were such a mistake."

After her episode, she retired to her room and finally knocked out. I checked for any injuries while she slept, and I was relieved to see only a few scratches when I wiped her limbs with a warm towel. I cleaned and bandaged her hands up tightly, but she wasn't bleeding anymore.

Relieved that she was okay, I sat on the chair beside her bed and sighed tiredly. She lay in the bed, her eyes closed. Her breathing was still shallow, but she was okay.

I couldn't stop the tight feeling of sorrow that gnawed at me when I looked at her.

My mother had brain cancer.

It tampered with her emotions, and she was volatile without her medicine. And while the medication helped alleviate her emotional instability, it also drained her of any substantial energy to do other menial tasks. She could eat and sleep and use the restroom, but she couldn't bear being outside without feeling weak.

In a way, the medicine kept her alive, but it also took away her liberty to live freely. She was trapped because of her own self, and she had no control of it whatsoever.

So no matter how bad she acted, I would show her empathy and I would take care of her, because she no longer could.

With that determination in my heart, that overwhelming sadness became much more bearable.

I smoothed her hair back. She took care of me all her life, and it was my turn to make sure she was okay. Even if I got a little hurt in the process. The fact that my ribs ached just meant that I was still breathing and alive.

I sighed, my eyes unintentionally closing while I lay my head against the wall behind me and tried so hard to think optimistically.

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