Seoul, Korea
1:21am 02/19/XX
Park Jimin's Residence
I run into the bathroom, struggling to hold back the nasty feeling growing in my chest.
I knew he'd hate me for what I did, but I never imagined that he'd try to do this.
My mouth is dry and my reflection is pale. I'm sweating a fucking waterfall but I'm so, so, cold. I'm freezing. The floor sways beneath my feet as a metallic taste lines my tongue.
Cursing myself for shaking off the initial feeling of dread earlier, I fall to the floor. I shouldn't have pretended like I was fine.
At the very least, my death won't be for no reason. I am a bastard.
Now, my mouth is as dry as cotton. There's no blood rushing to my head; instead, it's trapped in my lungs. The shine of the bathroom lights become splotches of white in my dominantly black vision.
I feel like I'm about to vomit my heart out.
I'm about to die.