Calming medicine

“Ah!” A startled cry escaped her lips as Mu Qingxi jolted awake—it was two o’clock in the morning.

She still needed her calming medication to settle herself. There were many nights each month when she dreamed, and whenever she was shaken awake by her nightmares, she resorted to the pills. She worried that perhaps she was truly ill now, for her dreams were filled with her mother’s scolding, sometimes even beatings.

The nightmares had begun in middle school, but back then they weren’t so severe as to keep her from sleeping or cause her to wake repeatedly—she hadn’t needed medicine to rest. After entering high school, however, the nightmares intensified, especially after that incident in her first year, when Teacher Xu Lihua was involved and she was beaten terribly; the distress lodged itself deep within her heart.

Since then, waking in terror at night had become routine, and after such awakenings, sleep was elusive.

Now, Mu Qingxi felt utterly helpless. Clutching the corner of her quilt, she yearned for a secluded spot to sit. She moved slowly, searching for comfort. Suddenly, she heard bangs and thumps, sharp noises whose source she could not discern, each sound stabbing at her eardrums. At last, she found a corner of the bed, curled up there, and felt much safer. Wide-eyed, she blinked at the pitch-black ceiling.

In a flash, the world spun. It was as if a black vortex had appeared in her mind, swirling wider and wider. She no longer knew where the window was, nor where she herself lay. Everything before her was shadowed and dim.

“Qingxi, Qingxi, Qingxi, open the door!” Faintly, Mu Qingxi heard someone calling her, accompanied by incessant knocking.

Gradually, she returned to herself, recognizing the shouting and knocking outside. How could her mother still be awake at this hour? Before she could respond, a clattering erupted from the living room. She guessed her mother was searching for the keys.

Indeed.

A sharp click—the lock turned. Then, with a snap, the lights flooded the room. Mu Qingxi quickly shut her eyes, ducked her head to avoid the harsh glare.

“Why are you lying on the floor? How do you sleep like this?” her mother scolded as she tried to pull her up. “Look at what you’ve done to the cabinet and table—making such a racket in the middle of the night instead of sleeping properly.”

How considerate her mother was, she thought bitterly—not asking if she was all right, if she felt sick, but immediately complaining about the disturbance. She hadn’t invited her mother in, after all.

When her mother tugged at her, Mu Qingxi furrowed her brow, sidestepped her mother’s hand, and, leaning on the wall, slowly stood up. She squinted, glancing at the bedside table. Only four words could describe it: a scene of utter devastation. It looked as if bandits had ransacked it—glass shards littered the floor, the lamp lay toppled on the bed, her phone lay broken in two…

Mu Qingxi had no idea how she’d managed to create such chaos—the bedside table was a disaster, the bed itself strewn with mess, the quilt half on the bed, half on the floor. Most bewildering of all, how had she ended up on the floor? Wasn’t she searching for the corner of the bed? The spot she’d found—was it the bed’s corner? But the bed was in the middle of the room, with only the wall behind.

So it wasn’t the corner—it was the foot.

No time to dwell on it. A wave of pain washed over her head, and she sank back onto the bed. Her mother tidied the table as she asked, “What’s with all this mess—were you looking for your medicine? Is your stomach hurting again?”

“No, it’s my head,” she replied, rubbing her temples.

“Where is it? Let me find it for you.” Her mother was already bending down, picking up a jar of medicine from under the sofa, holding it out for her to see. “Is it this one?”

Before she could answer, her mother was inspecting the label, checking the dosage.

After reading it, her mother exclaimed in surprise, “You take this?”

Mu Qingxi slowly sat up, dizziness threatening to overwhelm her. She steadied herself, waited for the darkness to recede, took the bottle from her mother, and said coolly, “Yes. I’ll take care of it myself—you should go back to bed.”