"Shit, I guess you shouldn't do homework anymore."

"Calculus homework almost killed me," I lament sarcastically while I open my sherbet container. I smooth over its orange surface with the back of my spoon. "I should sue my professor, and McDonald's. Do you think they'll give me free nuggets for life because I almost died in their parking lot?"

Alice chuckles. "It's worth a shot. But hey, if you want me to grab your stuff I can." Her voice is muffled by the sound of the wind, she is probably walking out to her car.

"That would be wonderful, thank you," I sigh in relief. "I think it's still unlocked. Be sure to lock it when you leave."

"Sounds like a plan!" Her car door opens and slams shut, cutting off the whistle of the wind. She is quiet for a beat before her tone grows with heavy concern. "Are you sure you're okay? I totally get if you don't want to talk about it but..."

There is a part of me that doesn't want to talk about it. I want to ignore that it ever happened in the first place. Not only that, I feel like such an idiot for flipping out in the ambulance. Somehow I feel guilty for being attacked and not being strong enough to fight back.

"Eden?"

I shake my head and drag myself from my thoughts. "Sorry, I got distracted." I take a bite of my sherbet and its tangy flavor helps to ground me to reality. "Not much happened, but I can tell you."

"Okay?"

"So... basically..." A strange pressure builds in my chest and suddenly, the words are difficult to form. I clear my throat and decide to take another route, a more humorous one. "Basically I had a run-in with the black market. Shady men, midnight, no witnesses, the whole deal."

"Holy shit..." she whispers. "I didn't think that type of stuff existed."

Jimin's face appears in my mind without warning. The memory of him is vivid as life happens before my eyes. The terror shining in his dark eyes, the blood on his hands, and I can still smell the earthy and gasoline scent on his clothes.

"We're safe now."

"Hey, are you okay?"

I snap out of my dark daydream at the sound of her voice. "Me? Yeah, I'm okay," I lie in a light tone. "Sorry, I don't think the connection is good in this place."

"We should talk later. I'll grab your things for you. Remember to rest, alright? You mentioned a concussion?"
"Yeah. I'm okay now, they even took me off the painkillers. I just need to be careful with myself."

"That's good. I'll be there in a bit. I'll call you if I can't find your car. See you soon!"

I smile gratefully, "Goodbye. And thanks again." Then we hang up.

I sink back into the hospital bed and stare at the ceiling. My mind drifts back to Jimin and his bravery. I wanted to tell her about him but I couldn't form the words to explain it. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it. It's as if talking about it will make it more than just a nightmare. I don't want to accept what happened or face what will happen afterward.

If only I could remain here without a care in the world.

I finish my sherbet and set the empty container aside. I turn to face the frosted window, falling victim to the depths of my mind. I wonder if I can see Jimin again, I think to myself.

My mind compensates for not immediately seeing him. I find myself daydreaming of him and our next conversation if we are lucky enough to run into each other again. My thoughts feel light as clouds, almost like cotton candy instead of coherent words and ideas. The image of Jimin softens the sharp edges of our first meeting and I welcome the change.

I don't know how long I spaced out, but the sound of my mother's ringtone scares me out of it.

My head snaps down and I feel a shudder of pain travel down my neck. I wince as an afterthought while my focus is devoted to the caller ID. A dark part of myself wishes I landed myself in a coma so I wouldn't have to deal with her phone. I don't know if I'm mentally ready to talk to my mother if I could barely get the words out to Alice.

It's going to be okay, I attempt to comfort myself. Maybe she didn't listen to the hospital's voicemails? But I already sense a storm coming.

This is going to suck.

I accept the call with a slow finger and cautiously raise it to my ear. I grimace in anticipation, "Hello?" I start in a casual tone.

"Eden?" Her voice is pitched with urgency, "Eden, is that you?"

I inhale slowly and nod. "Yes, it's me. It's okay."

Mom sighs with relief but the shrillness in her tone never drops. "Thank goodness, thank goodness! Are you okay? Is everything okay? I got a message from the hospital at one in the morning, Eden. What happened?"

"I'm alright," I answer gently. "You don't need to worry."

Mom scoffs, "If I didn't need to worry, then the hospital wouldn't have called me. But I'm glad you're... okay, but what happened? Was it an accident? Did you get into an accident?"

"No, it wasn't an accident," I reply. "I..." The truth turns to ash on my tongue. My eyesight blurs and I wipe an unexpected tear from my eye. "It was icy outside and I slipped. I hit my head on the pavement." I bite my tongue to stop myself from rambling myself into a grave. She knows when I'm lying. She knows me too well for that.

"They said you were attacked," she says flatly, angry I lied to her.

I grimace. "I slipped too..." I add weakly.

"What happened? Don't lie to me, Eden, you know how much I hate that," she snaps, emphasizing her frustration. "I know you are still 'angry' about last year but the past is past. This is about right now, and you are injured. Why are you lying to me about that? Is there something else you aren't telling me?"

"I... I'm just..."

"There you go again. Don't you dare lie to me, Eden," she scolds, her voice strengthening with every word. "Honestly, doesn't it get tiring? To lie all the time? I won't listen to another word of this. You will tell me what happened or I am going to call the hospital instead."

My heart clenches inside my chest and I start to lose control of my breathing. "No no," I force out, "no don't do that. It's fine. I am just... I am having trouble focusing, because I have this concussion, and it makes it hard to form the words." Mentally, I kick myself for being so helpless when it comes to her.

I shouldn't have to apologize for this. She doesn't need to know a damn thing about me! I don't need her in my life anymore. I am fine on my own so why am I trying to play nice with a woman who never respected me as a child or an adult?

And yet, why do I feel so guilty for disappointing her? Why do I still feel that horrible need to please her? To earn her respect? I don't want to, but I can't help it.

She is quiet for a moment. "When do you get released from the hospital?" she asks.

I have a bad feeling about this...

"Tomorrow, if I am doing well," I answer honestly. I wonder if she'll call the hospital after this. There is no use in lying now. "They are keeping me under observation."

"How bad is it?"

"A concussion... maybe a minor one. They said I could go home and rest. I can do online classes for a while. It'll be two weeks of recovery."

Mom hums in acknowledgment. "I see. Then it is probably good timing that we're coming to Saejang next weekend."

My stomach drops.

"Coming?"

"Yes, your father has business in Saejang. A conference. He will be busy, but we should at least have dinner. We will be staying at the hotel with the rest of the company, but I would like to see this... apartment you choose to stay in. It lines perfectly. We will come next weekend, we'll arrive in the afternoon..." She explains her plans for our time together in detail as if she had already planned on bringing this up. My injury made their visit more convenient.

I stare ahead with a look of disbelief.

Why? Why do I have to deal with both a concussion and my mother in a twenty-four-hour period?

I don't want them to come here. I don't want them to see my apartment. I don't want to listen to hours of their opinions and how I should live my life. I barely escaped it before, and this feels like two steps backward. I tried to put distance between us and it isn't working.

But instead of telling her that I am busy or will be too tired or plainly telling her no, I find myself nodding and relinquishing my control once again.

I can't fight her. It's no use trying. It never worked before and I am sure it won't work now.

They view me as a failure, and I can't change that. They claim to love me and hate my existence simultaneously. If they had the power to drain my brain cells and turn me into a doll, they would do it in a heartbeat.

Their perfect child. Their little Eden. Untainted by so-called sins like having dreams and yearning for independence.

The phone call finally ends and I am left both exhausted and stressed about their upcoming visit. I moan quietly and rest my head against the pillow. I squeeze my eyes shut and fight the urge to throw my phone across the room.

If I had just ignored it!

The frustration with my mother grows unbearable and I have to force myself to calm down. I breathe in long, measured breaths until my heart steadies. At the end of my temper tantrum, I am still annoyed but coming to terms with reality.

If I can't stop it, I should take it in stride.

I should fall in grace, and pray I don't smash my head on the pavement again.