The Desperate Pain of That Day
In the mirror, my gaunt, unattractive naked body stood exposed. Had the work been that brutal lately? I looked even thinner and more bedraggled than the last time I'd seen myself. But the truly horrific part was lower down. My crotch. The wads of toilet paper I'd crumpled and jammed in there were blotched with bloodstains in several places.
The pants and underwear I'd flung off were soaked dark crimson, and something like the stench of rotting meat seemed to hang in the air. The moment I realized my period had hit, I'd fled the store without permission, bolted home, stripped in a frantic scramble, and shoved in that makeshift plug—this was the immediate aftermath.
"Kk... kkeueueuk, heuk."
In the mirror, a pathetic woman lay sprawled on the floor with toilet paper stuffed between her legs, sobbing. Even I had to admit how fucking ridiculous and laughable I looked. Wasn't that the line—life is a tragedy up close and a comedy from a distance? The third-rate comedy of it all felt as alien as if it were happening to someone else.
And it was crushingly miserable. Tears couldn't even fall properly down my unwashed, sticky face; they just clumped and clung. Still, I cried without end, pouring out the grief. But no one in the world felt pity or offered comfort to a woman this wretched and pathetic.
All I could do was clutch the sorrow and the physical pain alone and keep weeping. I played the tragic heroine to an empty room for a long while before I finally managed to pull myself together.
"Haa... how the hell do you even put on a pad?"
Comedy, of course. The kind of line that would draw a snort of laughter if anyone overheard it—and it had just come out of my own mouth. I genuinely had no idea. I'd lived over thirty years as a man. There had never been a reason to learn how to use sanitary pads. So here I was, sitting on the floor muttering the kind of idiot question a teenage girl might ask.
Thankfully the world had improved enough that the internet had videos explaining it. I forced down the humiliation, watched one, and then dragged my body upright.
"Ah... the paper's already soaked. Need to change it..."
The toilet paper I'd crammed against my skin was still a thick wad, but it had already turned bright red. Did women always bleed this much on their periods? Not a question I could dare ask anyone. I sighed, spread my legs, and pulled the soaked plugs free.
"Augh! Huh? Wh-what? It's leaking..."
I'd been too panicked when I shoved them in to notice, but as I pulled them out the rough surface of the cheap paper scraped along my vaginal walls and sent a strange sensation through me. It lasted only a second. The moment the paper was gone, the dark red blood that had been dammed up poured out in a gush, streaking the floor and the blanket, and I could only stare in panic.
"Ugh. What the hell is this mess now! I have to clean it up fast."
My one and only blanket and mattress were turning red. But I couldn't even focus on that. Blood was still streaming from between my legs. It was grotesque. Was that... the blood from a dead egg inside me?
It felt as if some foreign life form inside me had died and was draining out. The thought was so foul it made my skin crawl. And the fact that I could only thrash around helplessly made me feel even more pathetic. I stretched out a trembling hand, grabbed the roll of toilet paper rolling on the floor, and jammed fresh wads into the split that was gushing like a broken dam.
I forced them in deeper despite the dizzying pressure against my skin, terrified of more leakage. When I looked around, the floor was a complete bloodbath. It felt like watching a third-rate horror movie. I rolled more paper and wiped up what I could before finally turning to the blanket.
I staggered to the bathroom with the blanket and scrubbed the dark-stained patches desperately with water and soap, but the blood that had already started to dry refused to come out. Haa... more work. On top of having to buy those damn pads, I now had to take the blanket to the laundry.
Everything—every last thing—was a disaster and a misery.
"Where are the sanitary pads?"
"Huh?"
"I said, where are the pads in this convenience store."
"Uh? Ah... left aisle, lower shelf..."
I hauled the blanket to the unmanned laundry, shoved it into a machine, and headed for the convenience store. The paper I'd just packed was already soaking through again; I could feel the wetness between my thighs. I hadn't even been able to put on underwear, and I was pretty sure the training pants would start staining soon too, so urgency was all I could think about.
Maybe... I didn't want to, but if I'd had a skirt it wouldn't show stains as easily? With that ridiculous thought I stepped into the convenience store. The clerk answered my question with a dazed look on his face. What was his problem? Irritation flared, but I didn't have the energy to snap.
I found what I needed in a hurry, grabbed a few different kinds just in case, and went to the register. Then the irritation climbed higher. That same vacant clerk was still standing there looking blank even as I approached. And he seemed to be sniffing the air in a weird way.
My blood boiled watching him. Just like Jeong-a had pointed out, I still reeked because I hadn't washed. On top of that I was hemorrhaging, so the smells were mixing into something truly foul. Even so... did he have to make it that obvious? Anger surged.
So I barked at the innocent male clerk.
"Hey."
"Y-yes? Ah, y-yes yes."
"Do I smell?"
"Y-yes? Wh-what are you talking about?"
What the hell was wrong with this guy? Why did he keep reacting like he was high on something? It only made me angrier.
"I asked if I smell bad. You keep zoning out and sniffing, don't you?"
"Huh? Ah, n-no... I mean. Y-you do smell."
"Ha... sorry about that. I've got my reasons. But still, to be that blatant—"
"It smells good."
"Wh... what did you just say?"
Had this bastard actually lost his mind? I was too stunned to speak, and he just kept murmuring in a hazy, almost self-directed way.
"How do I put it... it's kind of like blood, but also a little like wine, and anyway it's not bad at all—it's a really nice scent. Smelling it makes my head go all fuzzy..."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Ah, s-sorry. These are what you're buying, right? Here, give them to me."
The vacant idiot finally seemed to snap back to reality, stopped his nonsense, and started scanning the pads I'd dumped on the counter. Seriously... the way this day was going, of course I'd run into every kind of lunatic.
And that guy never took his eyes off me the entire time I finished paying in a foul mood and walked out of the store.
I hurried my steps, afraid that unpleasant gaze would follow me the way the manager's had last time and lead to something weird... but the toilet paper made that impossible. Hahaha... it was completely soaked through now; I could feel it running all the way down to my knees.
I was a monster. A scruffy woman wandering the dark alleys of this shitty neighborhood leaving trails of blood. I wouldn't even be surprised if urban legends about me started circulating someday. Clinging to the last threads of my sanity, I forced myself home step by step.
"I'm sorry. My body suddenly got bad."
The endless drama of misery didn't end the next day either. I'd somehow bought pads and put one on clumsily enough to feel a little safer, but things didn't improve. Even with the pad on, I watched it overflow.
Thankfully the flow eased a bit toward dawn, but the sheer volume I was going to need left me speechless. At this rate... wasn't this basically diaper territory? And I had to do this every month? On top of that, the stains on the blanket I'd retrieved hadn't faded at all.
It hadn't dried properly either, so I couldn't even think of covering myself with a damp blanket that reeked of my own metallic blood; I had to hang it up in the room to dry again. That left me spending a damp, disgusting, foul-smelling night. When dawn came, the real problem hit me. Work.
If it were up to me I would never go back. After the humiliation of yesterday, walking back there on my own two feet would make me a full-blown masochist. But I had no choice. My past records had been wiped clean white, and with my old life gone the moment I became a woman, that store was the only place left that could keep me fed.
So, shameful as it was, I had no choice but to head there again. The first thing I had to do was apologize. Reasons didn't matter—I had left without permission. After clocking in I went to the office, bowed my head to the manager, and begged forgiveness.
Seeing the manager again after a while still made me nauseous. How pathetic of me to have once thought of someone like that as a savior and trusted him. The bad blood that had come from it still made me furious. I was half-expecting him to tell me not to come back. And yet...
"Huh? Ah... i-it's fine, Hyomin. I already heard. You weren't feeling well, right?"
"What? Who told you..."
"Kangho said so. Said you were sick so he just sent you home early. He already put it through as half-day leave, so don't worry about it."
I stood there dumbfounded by the completely unexpected answer. Who? Kangho? That bastard had covered for me? Why? After all the absurd things I'd been through lately, this was the one that made the least sense. But the manager clearly found my presence uncomfortable, so I hurried out of the office once the conversation ended.
Even outside, the questions kept swirling. What was that? Why the kindness? Was he just tying me down so he could keep tormenting me longer if I got fired on the spot? I was curious, but I couldn't ask. Kangho was off today. Still baffled, I walked out onto the sales floor—and the reality of having returned to hell hit me immediately.
"Look, she's here. She's here."
"Wow. Shameless as hell. After that shitshow yesterday she still thinks she can show up for work?"
"Total psycho. She left the floor covered in blood and just bolted without cleaning it up, right?"
"She really is a half-assed human being. What kind of crazy shit is that at her age?"
The female employees made sure I could hear every word of their whispering. It was unfair, but I couldn't deny it. I had left blood drops all over the place. And the backbiting continued. Then an unexpected detail floated over.
"That bitch's mess from yesterday—Kangho cleaned it up with Jeong-a, you know."
"Whoa. Holy shit. Our Kangho must've been pissed as hell."
"Yeah yeah. He looked so furious that Jeong-a was too scared to complain and just came out with a rag and scrubbed the floor. But you know what's actually scary?"
"What?"
"Kangho completely lost it and did something psychotic. I don't know if it's true, but... people are saying he dipped his finger in what was on the floor, sniffed it, and his whole face twisted up."
"Wh-what? That filthy stuff? Wow... Kangho must've really snapped. She's dead now."
A chill ran through me. No way. It had to be just the women exaggerating and making shit up among themselves. Why would that guy do something like that with what I'd left behind? But... if it was true. If he really was that furious at me...
"Uh? Uhhh..."
My hands and feet started trembling. Maybe it was a good thing he was off today after all. Fear settled in. And as if she'd been waiting for exactly that moment, someone called out to me. Jeong-a.
"Ajumma, you actually had the nerve to come to work? Ha! What are you standing around for? Get over to disposal right n—"
"Yes! Going right away!"
"Huh?"
I answered Jeong-a obediently and sprinted for the waste disposal area. My body still shuddered with fear. But there was still nothing I could do. Nothing except submit to them. Right now, the thought that something truly terrible might happen if I didn't kept me moving.
And so the period disaster that had delivered one mental shock after another finally ended, and a few quiet days slipped by. Before I knew it my period was over too. Just when I thought I could breathe again, I received an unexpected work order.
"What? What did you say? You want me to do the store inventory... alone?"