The boy wiped the sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, his steps long, trying to catch up without tripping on tree roots of the forest. Three others followed behind him, while a girl with long dark blonde hair lead up front, almost leaping across the forest ground as she avoided roots and mud and ants nests as if she had memorised the floor plan. She only glanced back a bit, pausing for a few seconds to let her friends catch up before starting again. The boy at the end of the line scrunched his eyebrows at the top of his nose in frustration.
"We'll be there soon enough, come on," the girl ahead replied.
"Will, you're not much slower than her," a girl with jet black hair and a nose ring called from behind. "It's really getting on my self esteem."
"Your constant refusal to join me at the gym calls for it," Will replied, smirking while wiping his blond hair back. "Hey Ella, break time," he called at the girl further up. She glanced back, rolled her eyes and stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms.
"I'm not into putting myself through voluntary pain," Lorenza told.
"Can we not talk about working out right now?" the girl just behind Will asked. She was two feet shorter than him with glasses slipping down her nose bridge, and just as much sweat as Will but refused to slow down - she'd rather not be left behind. "Ella, can we please know where you're bringing us? Maybe we'll be a bit more excited about this."
"We would have found out by now if you guys wouldn't be such babies about this," she replied from afar. "Literally, we're a minute away."
"I better not be disappointed," the other boy, standing at about Lorenza's height, said in a low voice as he passed the other three, wanting to get a head start. He had dark skin and curls at the top of his head, his temper holding up only until now.
"Chill out, Chad," Will patted the guy on the back before he followed along.
"Come on, Hedy," Lorenza said as she passed the girl with glasses. Hedy gave a deep sigh. At the back of the line, as expected, she thought to herself.
Not far from where they had stopped, Ella turned to look at the team. She gave a grin, holding her arms out at the clearing. The patch contrasted to the rest of the forest, in which the trees had turned into stumps and roots into bumpy soils, leaves gathered into patches randomly. On top of one of the stumps lay a shovel and gardening gloves. "You will never guess what lies beneath these soils."
"Dead bodies?" Will joked without smiling.
"Actually, you're spot on."
The rest of the group went silent. Lorenza spoke up first.
"Are you... serious?"
"Yes, I am," Ella grinned as she reached for the shovel and started digging at one of the what seemed like random bumps of soil, but now resembles graves to the group, with the patches or leaves cleverly disguised as headstones.
"You're really creeping me out, Ella," Hedy announced as she hugged her own torso in discomfort.
"It's like what we talked about, guys," she told in between breaths. "The world isn't going to make anymore sense if we keep letting idiots lead us. We have to do something about it, and where do we start? Right at home, of course." She stopped digging, wiping at her forehead. She then reached down to dust off some of the soil, then pulled out a detached head by the hair from the ground. Hedy gave a half-screech half-gasp, but stopped herself, closing her mouth with her hands.
"What the fuck?" Chad shouted. "Is that... Principal Gully?"
"Yea that idiot of a principal we have. Shouldn't have suspended me for writing a paper on how the government was spending too much on military. Sucks to be him."
"Ella you not only insulted the president but also the entire office for a class taught by a proud Republican. It was called for," Lorenza tried to reason. It seemed useless now though, since the principal didn't even have a drop of blood in his brain anymore. "Is there... more of these?"
"Well the principal and Ms. Shrewder, that proud Republican is a good start, but next, the president, then, the world, of course."
"Ella you're fucking insane," Chad said in a shaky voice. "We can't go around killing people for the small stupid decisions they make."
"Oh, yea, we're not gonna kill every single idiot out there, well not yet," Ella explained as she waved the head around with pride. "We start at the top then we work our way down. See how easy it is to get to the principal? With a few more practice killings we might as well book for a flight to DC now."
"I'm getting the fuck out of here," Chad announced, pacing towards the way they came from.
"Not so fast," Ella said calmly, pulling a pistol out of her jacket pocket, pointing at Hedy. "You go and this girl dies."
"Bullshit," Chad called. Ella pulled at the trigger, and Hedy screamed as a bullet shot through her thighs. Chad stopped in his tracks, and Lorenza went to catch the girl as she dropped to her knees, both trying to stop the blood from flowing out.
"Anything else you're gonna call out as bullshit?" Ella asked. She tossed the head at Will, letting him see it up close. "As you can see, I'm not about bullshitting."
Will had a good look at the principal's wrinkled face - his thin lips were curved downwards, slightly parted, his eyelids revealed the maggots underneath already starting to feast on his eyeballs. The boy dropped the head at the sight of the maggots, almost bursting into tears out of fear and disgust.
"Ella, it was all talk, okay?" Lorenza said, her voice a mixture of fear and calm. "We didn't really think of killing anyone. We can stop this right now. Killing is wrong, especially when they didn't do anything to deserve to die. We won't be able to get away with it anyway. We're just five high school kids."
"I didn't think of you as the cowardly type, Lorenza," Ella sighed. "I gotta say, I'm disappointed."
"It's not about being brave, it's about doing the right-"
Another bullet went through Lorenza's forehead, in between her eyes. Hedy screamed again as the body next to her turned limp. Tears started to form as she sobbed. The two boys shook in their places as they glared at Ella in fear. The girl looked away, her hands shaking. Despite being the new girl in town, Lorenza had been the one who let Ella into her circle. For once in her five years of switching schools every few months, Ella felt like she belonged somewhere. Why did Lorenza had to defy her like this? Why couldn't she just accept who Ella was for who she is?
"Bitch was the one who said Principal Gully deserved to die."
Two black shadows formed on the black tar road of an alleyway. The bodies faced each other, both standing straight, their eyes at the same height, fighting to loom against the other. One was steady - his hair was cropped short and black, his body dirty but comfortable enough. His hands rested by his sides, only his facial expressions playing a role in movement. At first he was surprised when a sudden click was heard from behind him. Then a smirk formed on his face as he turned around, smelling the familiar scent of medicated soap - the smell of The Wires, right after one had been brainwashed. Then his confidence changed to disappointment.
The angular face that hid behind a mass of blond hair was once dirty like his, but now it was white and cleaned out, a set of blue eyes renewing his soul. His clothes was not torn as it was when the man last saw him. One hand held a pistol, shaking as he pointed it at the other. His face revealed his anxiety, his eyes twitching as he struggles to control the way he thought and acted. His stance was strong though, worried that if he shifted the other would take the opportunity to kill him off. He was not gonna let that happen. But he was not sure if he will kill the other, neither.
"I'm disappointed," the unarmed told. And he was; he could not hide it from the way his smile turned down and his eyebrows arched. "I thought you were stronger."
"You don't understand, Yongguk," the blond told, his voice shaking. He spoke what he believed in; or at least what he thinks he believes in. Everything seemed very vague now. What was going on? Who is this guy? He knows who this man is, but he was not sure if he knew him anymore. "The Wires don't take away your soul - they give you true ones. Ones that... That makes you clean. Pure. Don't you want to be pure, Yongguk?"
"Bullshit," Yongguk replied. The other gulped. "And you know it, Himchan. You're in there, somewhere, I know you are. Come back and see what real purity is. Killing children isn't pure. Tearing apart families isn't pure. Taking people's souls away isn't fucking pure. You've heard this a million times over and you know it. The Wires is a conspiracy. And they're pulling their strings on you... Shit, I should've never let you go alone."
Was what he said true? Himchan involuntarily pushed away the thought. "I'm glad you let me go alone. Th-they took me and cared for me and gave me love... Th-that's all you need, Yongguk, love. And you'll see that all of this is nothing but rubbish."
"Love?" Yongguk smirked sadly. "Love. Damn it Himchan. I gave you love but you never took it. And now you're taking it from The Wires? Well fuck you."
Himchan's grasp in the pistol's grip tightened. His other hand curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palms. The pain in his chest bled through his loud thoughts. His eyes throbbed, letting clear liquid drop down his cheeks. He bit his lower lip, trying to control his shaking. He did not want to think anymore. It hurt too much. He knew what was right but his body was tied and it did not move as he wished. His arms and legs felt numb from the thin threads that held them together, keeping them in tact. He traced the cold, metal trigger with his index finger. "I'm sorry."
Yongguk's eyes widen at the sight of the tear, reflecting in the low light. The next thing he knew, two gunshots were heard. Two sharp, cold pieces of metal pierced through his chest. It punctured his lung and he felt the blood rushing into his throat, making him choke and cough. He held his chest as he coughed red liquid onto the black ground below him, drops splattering onto his shoes. He looked up shakily at the blond. Himchan fell on his knees, the barrel of the pistol now on his temple. He sobbed, watching the one person he truly loved die. Yongguk's sight blurred, his body falling on its back as his breathing ceased, the muscles of his body worn out. But before he exhaled his last bloody breath, he heard another gunshot and smirked.
The white light from the small crack of the only
window in the underground room woke Youngjae from his slumber, his eyelids
fluttering. His eyebrows scrunched on his forehead as he raised his body from
the floor. The dirty sheets that kept him warm that night fell against his lap,
dust floating in the air. The basement scented of iron and rotting food, but the
boy in a white t-shirt and shorts could only think of one person.
“Hana,” he whispered as his mind came back from his
dreams. He dreamt of him and Hana running and laughing on the beach, their feet
sinking in the soft sand below them as the sun sets. He pushed away the sheets
to see a girl beside him, her legs folded near her chest, her eyes shut. Her
chestnut hair fell over her face, only an oversized shirt clothing her.
“Wake up, Hana,” Youngjae shook the girl gently. Her
slanted eyes opened slowly, her pupils moving towards Youngjae.
“Go,” she told him before she pulled back the sheets
above her head.
“Do you want something for breakfast? Tea? I can’t
remember if we have anymore sugar though, but I’ll try to scrape whatever’s
left,” Youngjae asked, his eyes endearing.
“I’m not hungry.” Hana’s voice muffled through the
sheets.
“Yea, me neither,” Youngjae smiled. “Just being with
you keeps me alive.”
Hana did not answer. After awhile, she removed the
sheets and got up, her eyes looking straight into Youngjae’s. He took up
whatever energy he had left to caress Hana’s cheek with his thumb. He moved in
for a kiss, but the girl looked away.
“You can’t do this anymore.”
“I can’t leave you, Hana.”
“You need to stay alive.”
“I’m fine just being with you,” Youngjae reassured.
“No you’re not.”
Hana took Youngjae’s hand, raising it high so that he
can his wrist, where scars of when he placed a razor blade against it can be
seen, his bones protruding against a pale skin. Just then, the door on the
higher end of a staircase started thumping. Heavy fists knocked on the other
side, instructing Youngjae to open the door.
“Hana, you have to hide,” Youngjae whispered
frantically, fear in his eyes as he tried to pull the dirty sheets over Hana’s
head. The girl pushed him away, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s over, Youngjae. This is only for your own good,”
she sobbed softly. Youngjae wrapped the sheets around her body. “You need to
stay alive.”
“Shh,” Youngjae told her, holding her tight in his
arms. “I’m here, don’t worry. Shh.”
The metal hinges flew apart as the door fell down the
stairs. Figures came over to Youngjae to take him away, unraveling his grasps
from the bloody corpse of his lover he had wrapped with the sheets.
“No, Hana!”
Youngjae screamed as the men pulled his arms. “Hana! Don’t take me away from
her!!!”
:WARNING: Really, really long. I was too lazy to separate them into parts on this site.
***
Junhong's mother was killed by his own
father when he was four. He woke up to find his mother on the floor of their
living room, lying in her own pool of blood, a broken shard of glass in her
stomach. Everything was out of place - the whole house was trashed as if
someone was in a rush to find something. Junhong didn't know what to do, so he
cried. His father was found and sent to jail. He was sent to a small orphanage.
When he started school, everyone knew who he was - Choi Junhong, child of a
murderer.
It never ended; the teasing. At first kids were scared. No one wanted to be his
friend. His pale skin and stoned face didn't make him any more approachable.
Frail and lonely, people started to pick on him instead. "Killer."
"Monster." "Child of a bastard." It never ended.
His studies were bad. It wasn't specifically because of the bullying. He never
tried. He knew his life was just a waste. Why bother learning anything if he
wasn't going to be of any use to anyone? No one ever accepted him anyway. His
guardians at the orphanage tried to help at first, but began to let the teasing
be - Junhong never reacted to them anyway. High school came. He heard that it
would be a nightmare. As if everything else already wasn't.
"Hey, killer."
Junhong didn't respond. He was on his way back home and decided to take the
back gate. There wasn't anyone around - just a parking lot half filled with
cars belonged to teachers who never went back home before six. The heavy foot
steps became louder as the juniors from the football club approached him.
Junhong was a tall boy for his age, but these boys were a foot taller, not to
mention their strong built.
"Hey, don't ignore us buddy," said a blonde one as he turned Junhong
over by the shoulder with one motion. Junhong's face remained stoned. Although
he doesn't mean to, his feet naturally steps back when the juniors threw
mockings at him. When they got him cornered, the blonde one threw a punch.
Junhong let them beat him, his blood already cold and numb. He doesn't feel
anything but physical pain.
The boys eventually got bored and finished off by pouring out the content of
his backpack and spitting at it. Junhong sat there, bruised and trying to catch
a breath as he let's the boys pass. Maybe it would be better if he was just
beaten to death. If only these things lasted longer. He would eventually just
lose enough blood. But he knew the purpose of the bullying. It wasn't to kill
him. It was for him to suffer - and live with the pain.
He finally got enough energy to reach out for his water tumbler. He gargled a
little and drank the blood-dilute in his mouth. He retrieved a little bit more
breath, and finally stood up. Suddenly sick in the stomach, he threw up his
lunch, now tinted red.
"Choi Junhong?"
Junhong looked up to see an average sized boy peeking from behind a car a few
meters away from him. He didn't have much fear in his tiny eyes; just
hesitation.
"Umm.. you okay?"
Junhong didn't say anything. Instead he tried to save some of his belongings,
dusting off some drops of his vomit from his worn out backpack. He wished the
boy would leave. He wished he would leave him alone. Junhong didn't feel this
much embarrassment since the first time he was called "killer".
Instead the boy came over to help pick up some of Junhong's books. He handed
them over. Junhong took them wordlessly.
"You're welcome," the boy said sarcastically.
Junhong tried to not have eye contact with the stranger. He hesitantly thanked
him with a soft voice. Junhong moved quickly for someone who was as hurt as he
was, but the small-eyed boy was just as quick. They walked side by side,
silent. Junhong let him be. Maybe if he was quiet enough the boy would
eventually leave him. But after awhile, Junhong started to wonder if the boy
was from his orphanage. They reached a cross-section when the boy finally took
a turn right instead of going straight with the taller.
"Well my home's this way so." Junhong didn't respond to the boy. He
continued walking, although he did give a few glances. He watched as the boy
walked backwards down the road, waiting for Junhong's response. His hair looked
dark brown at first glance, but it glinted a slight red in the sun.
When Junhong didn't attempt to even open his mouth, the boy finally shouted
before he turned around, "By the way, its Jongup! Moon Jongup!"
*
Junhong barely saw Jongup at school. Most of the time he'd
see him in the hallways but when Jongup was with his friends Junhong tried to
not make eye contact. If he's alone, Jongup would give a knowing look but
Junhong would be indifferent. It was his first few weeks in high school and
already Junhong's head had already been slammed into a locker, face flushed in
the toilet bowl and slipped face down when going down a flight of stairs. Junhong
was surprised at how much faster the bullying progressed but he guessed that
everyone already knew who he was. It shouldn't be something he can't handle.
"Killer."
Junhong went home alone most of his days, except
for that second day of school Jongup walked with him. Today, the same face
caught up with him, his steps slowing down as he walked next to the taller.
Junhong had silently wished Jongup would have walked with him the days that
came after the second, but after weeks pass he lost hope. Fortunately, he came
today.
"That's what they call you, right?"
Jongup asked, glancing at Junhong. "I wonder who's really the killer
around here. Although, it does fit the fact that you're so pale and you’re emotionless
a hundred and ten percent of the time."
Junhong kept silent. He wondered what Jongup
really wanted from him. And although he knew it’s impossible, he was starting
to think it was friendship. Maybe. Hopefully.
Jongup didn't say much. He sort of just made the
walk back home less silent with his footsteps, constantly trying to find dried
up leaves abandoned on the road to make a crisp crunching sound. Just that made
Junhong a little less lonely.
They were reaching the cross section when Jongup
finally spoke up again. "Sorry I didn't come before. I kept having things
to do and by the time I finished I guessed you would've walked by yourself
already. Do you know how many times I tried to catch up with you?"
Junhong had no idea. But he wasn't making the
attempt to guess; probably a lot. He was mostly surprised someone would make
such an effort and didn't do so to make him bleed. It felt refreshing. Like
someone who lived not to mock him actually existed.
"Well, I'll try to catch up again
tomorrow." Jongup said as he turned right, to his road.
The thing about Jongup was that although Junhong
was obviously hurt the first time they met, he didn't ask if Junhong was okay.
He assumed Junhong could handle himself. So if Jongup's intention wasn't to
protect Junhong, then what?
Junhong's theory was proven when his face was
slammed right next to Jongup. They made eye contact for a second and the
captain of the hockey club took the door of Jongup's open locker and slammed it
into Junhong's face. When the bully's hand let go of his grasp on Junhong's
collar, Junhong walked it off, wiping the blood from the cut on his lower lip.
Jongup didn't say a word.
"Oh my God, you made eye contact with the
killer!" some girls around him muttered. "Isn't there like a curse?
Like you're gonna get killed next or something?"
"Get ready your Asian ass, Moon. You're
gonna get murdered tonight," some of his friends teased. Jongup didn't say
anything, but they all sort of just laughed it off. They knew no one was going
to get murdered. The 'killer' had never done anything. They say the punches
thrown was to punish him for his father's sins. But his father only killed one
person and that was his mother - how did it have anything to do with any of
them? In the end, it was all out of boredom. For the sake of having fun.
Junhong had never had these thoughts. In elementary
he always thought he deserved it. In middle school his brain just froze. He
decided whether he deserved it or not, it's happening and will always happen so
there's no use to thinking about it. The fact that his train of thoughts
started running again could only be caused by one reason - Moon Jongup.
When Jongup caught up with him again that day,
Junhong was almost scared. There was something that was going to happen from
this acquaintance. He was sure of it. In one way or another, Junhong wasn't ready
for a change. Would things be worse? Maybe it would be better. Junhong hold his
thoughts for awhile. So much thinking after a long time of not doing so hurt
his brain a little.
Jongup reached into his pocket and revealed a
crumpled up plaster – flesh coloured and worn out. Junhong looked at the other,
hesitant. Jongup gestured it was for him. The taller took the plaster, unsure
of what to do with it.
"For your lips."
Jongup smiled with satisfaction when Junhong
plastered it on. Although it was actually rather impractical to put a plaster
on your lips.Who does that?Junhong thought. But he guessed it was
how Jongup showed his affection.
"Your story was great," Jongup told.
"From the other side of town people heard about you. That's where I came
from, by the way. The school on the other side of this town. Moved just last
year. Anyways. I really thought you were a scary kid who had a face that told
everyone not to mess with you. I was wrong, wasn't I?"
Jongup gave a hasty laugh. Is that what people said about me? Junhong thought. What a joke.
"'That kid comes to school with breath that
smells like blood.' 'I heard he eats freshly killed birds for breakfast.'
'Rabbits for dinner.'" Jongup recited a few of the famous lines Junhong
was known for. "Now that I hear myself saying it it sounds so ridiculous.
I can't believe I actually thought it was true. Then there was this other one.
They said your dad killed your mom and now he's in jail and that's why you live
in an orphanage. Can't believe what people come up with."
Junhong felt the blood drain from his face.
"Th-that's real."
Jongup didn't say anything. It was already
surprising that Junhong was actually talking. And now he's starting to realize
he'd been hanging out with a murderer's child. Jongup stayed silent for awhile.
"Really?" was all he could say after
awhile. Junhong didn't respond.
His eyes on the road below him, Junhong decided
to talk. "It’s true. My dad killed my mom. My breath did smell of blood -
not that anyone would have known, no one came close enough without making me
bleed some more. The reason it smells like blood is because I wouldn't have
been even a mile near school and someone would've knocked me down to the
sidewalk. I've lost so much blood in my years I'm wondering why I'm not in a
hospital right now. And you're right. It’s nothing like they say. I'm just a
toy to all of them. Not a killer."
"Although it would seem cool if you
were."
Junhong looked up. Jongup smirked. "Just
saying, it does fit your image if you weren't so weak." He gave the taller
a little push but Junhong held up his stance. He was used to people pushing
him, but now he's starting to wonder - was there ever such a thing called a
friendly push? If there was, was that it?
They didn't say anything until they reached the
cross section. Jongup gave a small wave and Junhong nodded in response this
time. It felt good to speak once in awhile. He hoped that Jongup would keep
coming - preferably speaking less - because he had so many things to
say. About eight years of talking that he held in before.
*
Jongup was a
sophomore, Junhong found out. He didn't know a lot of people when he first
moved to their school. He was better at making friends than Junhong was,
though. Things were easy for him.
Their walk back home had always been small talk.
Junhong would tell Jongup what he thought about the boy who threw his lunch
into Junhong's face and Jongup would mention that hot girl in his Chemistry
class. Junhong tried asking the older why he was always there every day to walk
with him. Jongup wasn't very informative though.
"Just 'cause," was his answer.
"This is the road I take back home anyway."
"You're... not trying to be friends with
me, are you?"
"Aren't we?" He glanced at the taller,
looking surprised. When Junhong didn't say anything, he looked back to the road
in front of him and answered himself, "Guess not."
Jongup started stepping on dried leaves, killing
the silence. Junhong noticed he'd do this whenever he was bored.
"I-if you wanna be friends..." Junhong
started. Crunch.
"Hm?" Jongup mumbled, his
concentration mostly on finding dried leaves.
"I guess we're friends..." Junhong
concluded. He was still awkward at making conversations, since he hadn't had a
friend since kindergarten.
Crunch. "You sure?" Jongup asked. His
eyes were still on the road. The leaves. Crunch.
"Yea... you're my friend, Jongup."
Jongup smirked. He looked at the younger.
"Probably your only one."
And he was. Jongup made Junhong smile after
years of suffering. He didn't exactly stop the bullying or talk to Junhong in
the hallways. But when Jongup noticed the younger had a cut, he would drop a
plaster into Junhong's locker. Junhong knew it was from Jongup, because it was
always the same as the first one he got - a little worn out a tad bit too
sticky, flesh coloured, although a bit too dark for Junhong's pale skin. But it
always made Junhong feel even the littlest bit better. Like someone actually cared.
"Killing spree!" one of the jocks
shouted one day before the last bell rang. Teachers were out for an emergency
meeting, and Junhong was sitting in his class, dozing off when suddenly the
door opened and a few juniors came in. A blonde one - the same person who beat
him at the parking lot on the first week of school - went over to Junhong and
grabbed him by the collar. He was choked out of class, smashed to a locker and
trapped by a circle of well-built junior years.
"Time for a killing spree, killer,"
the blonde told, his face an inch away from Junhong's, breathe smelling like
the tuna sandwich he had for lunch. "This time, you're the victim."
Punches were thrown and when Junhong fell to the
floor, everyone joined in to give the 'killer' a kick. Crowds started coming
over, chanting and laughing. "Killer. Killer. Killer."
"Come and give the killer the punishment he
deserves!" the blonde called. Now everyone – most from the classes on the
same floor, some from the upper and lower classes, those who got texts from
their friends and those who followed out of curiosity – was coming over.
Junhong saw Jongup. He didn't do anything. There was a sense of hurting in his
eyes - like he didn't want this to happen, but he couldn't do anything. Jongup
came to see if Junhong was still alive, and left wordlessly back to his class.
"You deserve this, killer," the blonde
tattered at Junhong. He accepted it, but deep inside he knew he didn't deserve
it. Soon, the chaos was ended by a teacher whose roar echoed through the
hallways. Everyone went back to their classes, like animals going back to their
nests. When the teacher saw the victim was Junhong, he helped the boy up and
told him to walk it off.
"You know it'll never end. Just... wash up,
walk it off."
Junhong looked at his reflection. There were
more cuts than he had ever had at once. He felt numb. The same numb feeling he
had felt before he met Jongup. The cold blood from his bleeding gums felt stale.
It didn't matter. Nothing did. He'd rather die than think anything mattered.
The last bell rung. Junhong spat the blood in
his mouth into the sink below him. When he walked out of the school gates,
Jongup was there waiting for him.
"I almost thought you really were
dead," he joked. Junhong ignored him. They started walking. "That's a
lot of cuts. I don't have any plasters right now; wanna come over to my house?
I got a whole stock there."
"Are you really my friend?" Junhong
asked. Jongup looked up. Their footsteps slowed, the two looking at each other
in the eyes. Junhong didn't keep the gaze and walked faster.
"What do you mean?" Jongup asked as he
caught up with the younger.
"Do friends really let each other get
hurt?" Junhong said it as if it wasn't the whole school who was bullying
him. It sounded like a small thing, like Jongup stole the girl he had a crush
on. Jongup didn't know what to say.
"It was out of my hands," he started.
"You know I c--"
"Well look at what we have here."
The two turned around and saw the same jocks who
lead today's 'killing spree' smirking at them. They froze as the juniors
approached them. Blood drained out of Jongup's face. He was really dead now.
"The killer found a gay friend... How
sweet," the blonde jeered. He towered at Jongup. "Getting chummy with
the freshie, ey?"
Jongup didn't say anything. They didn't have to
and things would still end up the same. The blonde pushed Jongup and he fell on
his bottom. The blonde stepped on his chest, smudging the dirt all the way up
to his face. "Well, a friend of a killer must be a killer too."
The blonde bent down and whispered, "You're
gonna regret ever talking to him."
With that, the junior years walked away. One
pushed Junhong, half-expecting him to fall but didn't do anything when the
younger stood his stance. When they left, Junhong went to help Jongup up. The
older wiped the dirt away with his sleeve. Wordless, they started walking.
When they reached the cross section, Junhong
finally spoke up. "I'm sorry."
"Naah, it's not your fault," Jongup
told as he turned his corner. "Plus, I don't do regrets. Not my
thing."
*
The next
day, Junhong wasn't greeted with the usual "Hey killer" when he
entered the school building. Instead, just as he was about to pass the ground
floor washroom, a boy was pushed out, his whole head soaked, liquid dripping
from the ends of his auburn-brown hair. He looked up and met Junhong's eyes.
Jongup.
Everyone around laughed at the boy whose head
got dunked into a toilet bowl. Jongup wasn't able to do anything before a tall
boy from the washroom pushed him hard enough for him to land on the lockers by
the hallway. The tall boy - a footballer, proud in his varsity, probably sophomore
year - took notice of the killer's presence and sneered.
"Look who's here to save his
boyfriend," he mocked. Junhong's eyes ran from the footballer to Jongup to
the people around to the floor. For the first time, he felt flustered. Maybe it
was the fact that someone else was involved, someone he cared about. And it was
entirely his fault.
The footballer pulled Junhong by the collar and
threw him next to Jongup. "You guys look good together," he told.
Jongup tried to stand up, a strong will to go against the bully still burning
in him. The footballer didn't let it burn. He washed off the flame with a punch
across Jongup's cheek, his head hitting a lock. Jongup placed his fingers on
the injured area, feeling a warm liquid gush out.
"Gays!" "They should kiss!"
"Hey, I'll vote for you guys as Prom Gay Princes! Not!" they laughed
and sneered. The footballer came to push the two's lips together, but they held
strong. Soon, a teacher came out to see what all the ruckus was about, and the
footballer managed to knock the two by the foreheads before walking away, as if
nothing happened.
Seeing that the hallway silenced and everyone
had rushed to their hall rooms, the teacher retreated back to his room. The two
stood up and went to their respective hall rooms without a word. They knew
things were going to get worse.And it
did.
Jongup's cut
needed five stitches. His friends started isolating him; moving tables whenever
he came to theirs at recess, pretending he didn't ask for the answer of that
equation in Algebra. And Junhong's nicknames grew from 'killer' to 'fag'. Other
than that, the bullying was just as bad as they had been.
"First, you kill. Then you become a homo.
What a waste of life."
Then take
it. Please. These words ran through
Junhong's mind every time those boys came to him and grabbed him at the strands
of hair on top of his head, but he never spoke them. He never said what was in
his mind, even before, but this time he had a reason not to. He can't die. If
he died, Jongup would be alone.
They tried to not see each other, or else the
bullying would be worse. Jongup rarely gets bullied, just left to suffer the
glares and whispers whenever he walked by alone. They wouldn't meet at the back
gate; instead whoever came earlier would just walk first, slowly, hoping the
other would catch up when they were at a safe radius away from school. Whenever
they see each other, they would smile. They couldn't smile any other time of
the day, and the only time they were happy was when they had each other. So
wordless, they would walk home together until they reach the cross road, smiling,
waving goodbye, hoping they would be stronger for tomorrow. At least Junhong
wasn't alone anymore. Even if it hurt him, at least he had Jongup.
"Hey, you free tonight?" Jongup asked
one day.
"Naah, I gotta clip my nails then I have a
date with my bed," Junhong replied, the sarcasm hidden well.
"Funny," Jongup smiled. Junhong
laughed at his own humour. "Dude, seriously. Come over tonight. Wanna show
you something."
Junhong rarely goes over to Jongup's house.
Never at night. Although it wasn't hard for him to sneak out - he always went
out for a walk before he met Jongup, muttering depressing curses to himself -
he was still considering whether he really wanted to.
"Just... don't do anything to me,"
Junhong told. Jongup laughed.
"Beware, I'm gonna kill the killer in his
sleep," Jongup sneered. Junhong didn't mean it that way, but he thought
better than to tell the elder what he was actually thinking about. They reached
the cross section and Jongup waved slightly.
"See you tonight, fag."
"Later, homo!"
*
The stale
smell of iron ran through Jongup's nostrils, so strong that his waken eyes
flickered open, curious of his surroundings. He lifted his head off the table
surface he laid on, his body on a chair by its side. He looked around, feeling
the humidity, sticky on his face. He was in his basement. Unrecognizable bodies
laid on the floor, ripped open at the abdomen, random broken things surrounding
them like trash piles, dark red liquid splattered across the dark walls.
Jongup's eyes ran across the room back and forth in fear. He started counting
the bloody bodies. One, two, five, ten... how many were there exactly? He can't
tell.
What happened? Most of the few light bulbs were
smashed, leaving only one lit, a standing figure underneath it, something long
and sharp in his hand.
Junhong? "Junhong?" Jongup's lips
were numb, saying the words in his mind a second slower.
"You're awake."
What the... "What the fuck happened?! What did you do?!" Jongup
stood up, the fear creeping to his heart, beating faster. His body feels weak
to do anything, though.
"You mean what didwedo." Junhong turned around, a
smirk on his face.What? "Wh-what?"
"Jongup?"
"I didn't do anything..."
"Jongup wake up! Jongup?"
Jongup's eyelids separated. A coffin came
to sight, Junhong's picture standing in a frame on top of it. He looked around.
He was in a church, the seats half full, most of them from Junhong's orphanage,
forced to fit into suits and pretty dresses to pay respect to someone they
barely knew. Jongup's parents were by his side. In the background the sermon
was mumbling about the Lord and heaven.
"You okay honey? Still can't sleep at
night?" Jongup's mother asked, concerned. Lately Jongup hadn't been able
to sleep, nightmares creeping into his dreams every night. That knife. Those
bodies. The blood. But last night he actually found a cure. He doesn't know if
he should be taking it though... not at these circumstances. Not when Junhong
died because of it.
No. Junhong didn't die because of the drugs. He
died because of Jongup.
Jongup went to school with eye bags,
rubbing the dreams away with his fingers. He was greeted with stares. Everyone
had heard of Junhong. He ignored the whispers. The blonde junior footballer
approached Jongup, apologetical eyes kept on the floor. "Man, sorry
bout Killer."
Jongup looked straight into his eyes, sharp
with suppressed anger. "You never learned his name, did
you?"
"Well I never thought he'd die..."
"Well Choi
Junhong did," Jongup replied, the anger mixing around in his body with
the feeling of guilt. "And we all killed him. We're all killers."
"We must be killers."
No. I didn't do any of this. The blood is on Junhong's hands. I fell asleep and
suddenly...suddenly... "Junhong? Are you okay?"
Junhong's left forearm was in a puddle of his
own blood, some still flowing out of the cuts. It read 'KILLER', rough and
deep. His right hand held a knife about five inches long. Junhong's head laid
on his right upper arm, his eyes resting on the bloody word.
"Do you see all these people, Jongup? Do
you see what we did?" Junhong said in a hushed voice, his life at the end
of its line. His face was paler than ever, his blue lips moving slowly.
"We must be killers. We killed all of them..."
Jongup did see the bodies. But he passed out
again, waking up with a more sober mind. Less drugged. It wore off him faster.
Must be because he was controlling the urge. He's just glad he woke up in
time to see Junhong still alive in front of him. He needed to hear his last
words.
Junhong on the other hand never got sleep. He
took more and more in boredom as his partner dozed off, addiction towards the
taste taking over him fast, the fleeting feeling of the world dissolving under
his feet taking him away. He was immortal. His father could do it. So can he.
He could kill everyone, and he would still smile. See? ‘KILLER’. He could rip
his arm apart and he's still alive. That was how powerful he was.
But… he feels weak now? Jongup. He has to share
this power. His friend. His family. The only one he loved. He walked weakly
towards the table Jongup laid asleep, heart throbbing in his chest, hands
shakily grabbing a chair to sit on. His warm fingertips - no, it's gotten cold suddenly
- touched Jongup's hands, staining it with a bit of blood. Jongup? Wake up.
Let's kill together...
"Junhong, just let it go happily,
okay?" Jongup whispered to him. "You had a friend. I love you. Your
life wasn't sad. It was filled with happiness."
"Jongup..." Junhong said hazily.
"Let's leave together... I don't want to be alone..."
"I- I can't." Jongup told. "You
won't be alone there. You have your mom. Don't worry bout it."
"Wha... what about you?" Junhong
asked, using his last few breathes to pull in the energy and frowned.
"You... you don't have anyone."
"I'll be fine," Jongup reassured,
pulling a smile. "Now stop talking. Relax."
Jongup closed Junhong's tired eyelids, watching
his breathing slow down.
"Jongup..." Junhong whispered, the
words barely coming out, his cold lips frozen."Thank you." That was what Junhong wanted. He
wanted it to end. He never told Jongup, but Jongup knew. He couldn't take his
own life though. He needed help. That's what Jongup gave him - a little boost.
"We all killed him," Jongup mumbled,
reassuring himself those words were true. Maybe it was. Not technically, but
they were all a reason.
We all know how to fake it. We all know what we've done. Jongup's mind flickered an image of
him putting that knife under that table. His thoughts came back to the white
board in front of him. A few sentences made out of scientific terms strung
together, making no sense to Jongup's dented mind. Another image came. Both Junhong
and him were laughing for no apparent reason on the floor of his basement, a
plastic bag weighing about 5 grams still filled with white powder. Junhong took
in some more. The still somewhat sober Jongup watched, a feeling of guilt
twisting and bending deep in his stomach. His eyes took attention of the knife
waiting under the table.
It won't be long. Jongup's eyes opened. He dozed off on
the backseat of a car, his parents in the seats in front of him, piles of boxes
and backs behind. They were moving. This was the reason. He will find a new
life somewhere else, leaving Junhong. It was better that he was now six feet
underground, rather than in that school, losing more blood.
Although it was ironic that Junhong died because
of it - loss of blood. They took it as suicide, not questioning the high levels
of cocaine in Junhong's body, seeing that Jongup's parents put money into
pockets to let him go. But maybe Junhong was already dead. Jongup kept him
alive. But it was no use anymore.
The car passed by the graveyard Junhong was now
resting in. Jongup tried to catch sight of Junhong's headstone - he remembered
it was somewhere near the gates - but the car passed by too fast. Maybe it was
better that way. This will all be the past. It'll be an old story told by the
elementary students to their new friends in high school. At one point it will
all just be a story to scare them. A killer ironically getting killed by his
friend who disappeared a week after he did. They say the friend comes back to
the killer's graveyard at night. Do you dare make a visit?
But to Jongup, it was just a dream.
He looked to his side where his backpack laid,
and unzipped the front flyer. He glanced at his parents - his mother was
babbling something about the moving services, while his father was pretending
to listen, his mind completely elsewhere - before taking out a plastic bag,
still half filled with what killed Junhong. Jongup rolled down his window and
held out the plastic at one corner. He watched the white powder float away in
an uneven line, disappearing into the air. When the plastic was empty, he let
it go and rolled the window back up, turning to the front.
A man with silver hair and a black mask that covered his
nose and mouth lingered around a basketball court, situated in the middle of a
city near the sea. His body was dirty; his last visit to the shower was two
weeks ago where he rented a motel room for one night, leaving him with twenty
bucks which he decided should best be used for food and a ride home. His eyes
carefully peered through the wire fence separating him from a bunch of adolescent
boys playing basketball – about five of them. The man looked down at the fragment
of paper in his hands. It had a picture of a boy with small, innocent eyes and
a wide smile, his nose slightly dented. He looked up at the adolescents. He
spotted him – the boy with brown hair and small eyes. Only this time, it had no
innocence. In its place was a glint of wisdom.
The man wasn’t one to speak openly to someone he didn’t know
well. He hesitated to approach the boy and later deciding he should plan things
out before doing anything stupid. But he did feel a slight tug at his heart,
thinking of how hard it was to find him in the first place.
“What are you doing?
Just go and get him!” a voice said in his head. He ignored it, even though
the constant stammering hurt his brain slightly. He had gotten used to it
throughout the years. His feet brought him to a harbour nearby. He leaned
against the metal fence that held him back from falling into the sea. The man
took his sight from the vast amount of water in front of him to the piece of
paper in his hand. Below the picture of the boy wrote his name – Moon Jongup –
in big block letters, with the words ‘Dead or Alive’ after it. The reward had
enough zeros to pay for his sister’s liver transfer.
He looked at the picture of the boy. He couldn’t have been
more than ten years old when they took this picture. He sighed and thought
about his sister. The man was about to reach out for his phone in his pocket
when suddenly a figure jumped out and sat on the metal fence beside him. He
looked up and saw Moon Jongup.
“You were the guy hanging around the court just now,” the
adolescent stated. A smirk formed as he said, “Cool hair.”
“Thanks,” was all the man could say, his voice muffled
through his mask. There he was, the boy he was searching for all this time. The
one who can save his sister’s life.
“Hey, what you got there?” Jongup asked. He was looking at
the piece of paper the man was holding. He was about to hide it when Jongup
reached out and stole it from his hands. The male silently cursed Jongup,
wondering how he didn’t fall backwards. Jongup was still all smiles up until
the moment he looked at the paper. He observed it for quite some time, as if
trying to swallow in the information. The male couldn’t even look at Jongup’s
face. He waited until Jongup handed him back the piece of paper.
“You were looking for me?” Jongup asked. The man was never
good at lying. He decided there’s nothing left to hide anyway.
“Yea.”
“So now you’ve found me, are you going to kill me?”
“No.”
Jongup snorted. “Avoiding the dirty work, huh?”
The man didn’t reply.
“So what’s your plan in convincing me to follow you?”
To be honest, the man never thought of this. He had no plan
B. The voice in his head just told him to go and search for the boy and send
him in for the reward. But the voice never said it would take over a year to
find Moon Jongup neither.
He glanced at the boy for a moment. He might seem wiser than
how he looked in the picture, what with him probably five years older now too,
but he still seemed like a nice kid with a kind heart. Or even, a soft one. So
the man told Jongup about his sister.
“You really think I’ll believe you?” Jongup asked, his head
not sure whether he should believe the stranger.
“I won’t kill you.”
“But I’ll die in the end,” Jongup told, looking away.
“I’m sorry about that.”
Jongup didn’t expect it from the other. He didn’t say
anything, and neither did the man. Jongup was about to jump off the fence but
he lost his balance and almost fell back. The man caught his forearm and pulled
him back, letting him land on the concrete with his two feet.
“Thanks,” Jongup said. The man
didn’t respond. Jongup walked a bit until he lingered to look back. “So do you
wanna save your sister or not?”
“Why did you decide to follow me?”
“Because you saved me.” Jongup sipped on his orange juice,
his eyes not breaking from the sight of his cheap supper. They were sitting in
a diner, deciding they should rest before tomorrow’s trip back to the man’s hometown.
Jongup managed to pull him into telling his name. It was Jung Daehyun. His
sister’s name was Daeri.
“What about your family?” Daehyun asked, fiddling with his
food. The voice in his brain told him to keep his mask on, meaning that he
couldn’t eat much anyway.
“I guess you don’t know why those people are searching for
me.”
Daehyun kept silent.
It seemed heartless to not wonder why someone wanted a ten year old boy dead. Maybe
if he was curious he would’ve done some research and it would’ve been easier to
find Jongup. But maybe Daehyun was
heartless – heartless to anyone other than Daeri.
Jongup took his last bite before sitting back. “My dad was
killed for knowing confidential information of a company he worked for. What
they didn’t know – at least, until my mom and I escaped - was that my dad had
transferred the information to me.”
“So your mom-“
“Was shot trying to let me escape when one of their people
found us.”
“When was that?”
“About nine months ago.”
“And how old are you again?”
“Turned fifteen two months back.” Jongup sipped his juice. “How
old are you?”
“Turning nineteen next month.”
“Great. Now we know each other’s birthdays. So what’s your
favourite colour?”
“White,” Daehyun answered honestly. Jongup chuckled. He only
meant the question as a joke. But he went along with it.
“Well mine’s green.”
“What’s up with the mask?” Jongup asked when they got on the
train. It would lead them straight to Daehyun’s hometown down south east. It
wasn’t technically Jongup’s hometown, but he did live there for a few years.
His heart felt a little jumpy thinking about seeing that town again - all the
memories, both happy and sad. So he tried making conversations.
Daehyun didn’t answer immediately. “Are you curious?”
“Well it’s kinda weird since you don’t even eat just to keep
it on.” Jongup fidgeted in his seat then fumbled with his hand rest. He couldn’t
stay still.
“I’m tired just looking at you,” Daehyun stated.
“What?”
“Are you nervous?”
Jongup snorted airily. “No,” he said in slight hesitance.
“Don’t worry. I get it.” Daehyun looked out his window as
the train starts moving. The tiles on the platform started fading as the train
speeds up, until all they saw was the scenery of the city below them. He was
feeling a little excited too. After more than a year, Daehyun’s finally coming
home.
On the train, the boys couldn’t sleep. They had another
three hours ahead of them before they arrive. They walked around and found a
pinball machine somewhere near the train cafe.
“Wanna play a few rounds?” Jongup offered.
“Why not.” So Daehyun ended up standing by the side,
watching the ball bouncing back and forth as Jongup intently tries to score.
“How did your dad transfer the information to you?” Daehyun
asked out of boredom.
“He placed a chip in my brain,” Jongup told. “Right after he
knew about it. He had a feeling the company didn’t want him to know, so he made
a second copy.”
“But you were just a kid,” Daehyun stated out.
“Guess he didn’t consider it.” The pinball slipped out of
Jongup’s control and fell into a pit at the near end. Jongup looked up and
smirked at Daehyun. Daehyun only took his place, replacing Jongup. He slotted a
few coins into the machine.
“You know, I have a chip in my brain too,” Daehyun started.
But the voice inside his brain started yelling.
“Why are you telling
him?”
“Oh yeah?” Jongup asked, watching the spring jolt the
pinball out. Daehyun caught it, stopping the ball from slipping down the pit.
His head throbbed.
“My parents died when I was younger, so they thought the two
of us couldn’t handle ourselves. So they implanted a chip in my brain to help
me know things.”
“This is confidential.
You had signed a contract to never speak of it!”
“Things?”
“Things like how to manage a bank account and what groceries
to buy.” Daehyun winced a bit at the pain in his brain. He can’t let it control
him. He has to fight it. “Basic stuff. But what I don’t understand is why the
government didn’t just give us-”
“Daehyun?”
“Yea?” Daehyun looked up at Jongup’s concerned face.
“There’s blood on your face.”
“So both of us are chipped,” Jongup stated.
Daehyun didn’t say anything. He dabbed his temple, making
sure there’s no more blood visible. His head still hurts a little, but at least
it’s not throbbing anymore. They were sitting at their seats on the train. It
was raining outside, but they had roughly an hour left. Truthfully, he can’t
wait to hand over Jongup. He’s afraid he would gain affection for the younger
that he wouldn’t be able to let him go. The two were talking more personal
stuff now, and it has to stop.
“We could be the chipped brothers or something,” Jongup
joked, smirking playfully at Daehyun. The older ignored him, staring out the
window. Jongup felt silly and looked away. “Well you still haven’t told me
about the mask.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I really wanna see how you really look like,” Jongup
stated. “How you smile. I can’t really smile very sincerely knowing I’m gonna die
soon.”
Daehyun looked at Jongup, and he returns it back with a sad
smile. Then he quickly looked away. “But I guess you don’t really care. You
have to save your sister after all.”
Daehyun couldn’t really say anything. He did love his
sister. But somehow Jongup reminds him a lot of Daeri. Their playful smiles.
The maturity in their jokes. And Daeri was only one year younger than the boy.
The two seemed very similar, but Daehyun couldn’t accept that fact. He refused
to. Jongup needs to go.
“So we’re finally here.”
Jongup took a deep breath of the suburban night air. They
went practically across the whole country, and Jongup missed walking on stable
land. Daehyun lingered near Jongup, but didn’t say a word. He had been silent
for the past hour, not wanting to create anymore bonds with his ‘chipped brother’.
Jongup was idly watching the night view, not caring about the time passing by,
so Daehyun decided to take the lead and walked to the gate of the station.
Noticing him leave, Jongup followed behind.
The company building was easy to find, as it was the biggest
building in the town. Jongup followed obediently behind Daehyun, as if he wasn’t
wanted by the big shots of the town. Daehyun found it annoying, plus the fact
that it made him look like a very bad bounty hunter. He considered tying Jongup
up and taping his mouth shut to look like he did a lot in effort of catching
him.
When they reached the company building, Jongup stated “Maybe
you should tie me up or something.” Daehyun thought that they really were
somewhat chipped brothers. Jongup smiled at Daehyun and Daehyun let out a sigh.
They managed to tie Jongup’s hand together and taped over his mouth by the time
Daehyun knocked on the back door. The voice told him this door would lead him
to the boss directly without a meeting.
The door was opened by a man about six foot eleven tall, his
bulky arms almost ripping his short sleeve apart. He observed the two younger
quickly and asked “What do you want?”
Daehyun briefly showed the fragment of paper with Jongup’s face
on it. The man compared the picture with Jongup, and then tore off the tape
with one pull. Jongup winced, his hairs pulled off his skin. “Ouch.”
“Well, this is quite a catch,” the man said in his deep
voice. “The boss will be happy to see you.”
Daehyun smirked under his mask, but didn’t dare look at
Jongup although he wanted to see him in pleasure too. Then it struck Daehyun.
This isn’t a happy moment for Jongup. After Daehyun leaves, he’ll probably be
skinned head first for the chip. The silver haired boy gulped silently, feeling
the sweat on Jongup’s arms when he brushed against him through a narrow
walkway.
They were lead to what seemed like a waiting room with a
sofa for three and two chairs, arranged around a coffee table. A potted plant
sat in the corner of the room, its leaves plastic green. Some magazines were
arranged carelessly on the table. The man offered the sofa to Daehyun, but when
Jongup followed he pushed the boy roughly that caused him to fall on the floor.
“You’re not a guest here,” the man told, the piercing on his
lower lip twitching. The man taped back Jongup’s mouth, then knocked on a grand
door placed at the wider side of the room.
“Yes?” a shrill voice called from the inside. The man
entered without saying anything.
Daehyun fidgeted with his thumbs, sweat running down his
temple. “All you have to do is claim your
reward. Then you can leave and Moon Jongup never existed in your life.” The
voice kept reassuring Daehyun, but although his brain seems convinced his heart
couldn’t stand the thought of Jongup being killed. Daehyun only hoped he could
ignore what his heart feels.
Jongup stood up slowly and landed his bum next to Daehyun.
He didn’t say anything. But he couldn’t sit still. And that was enough to tell
Daehyun that he wasn’t ready. He doesn’t want to die just yet.
“Tell you what Jongup.” Daehyun looked up at the younger,
and Jongup did the same, the tape almost falling out of its place. “The reason
I keep this mask on is because the voice in my head tells me to. And it does that
so that I would speak less – so that I wouldn’t spill any secrets of the
government’s. But since I met you, I’ve talked more than I ever had since I
knew about my sister’s sickness.”
Jongup stopped fidgeting. He seemed surprised Daehyun would
tell him such a thing. But he just kept quiet, although his mouth was already
free from the grasps of the tape.
Daehyun’s temple throbbed, but he ignored it. “Before I
leave, I’ll pull down my mask to show you. What I really look like.”
The grand door opened and the man from before came out. “Hey!”
he shouted at Jongup. He stood up, followed by Daehyun. The man didn’t say
anything more. He scratched his neck as he said “Come in.”
The two followed the man, the heavy door shutting behind them.
The room concealed by the door was as big as two classrooms, its walls filled
with racks of books. A desk sat further into the room, an old man sitting
behind it, his hands clasped together. He was bald, clothed with a slick black
suit and a purple tie. His smile was so sinister you would wonder if he was
actually a skeleton haunting you in your dreams. Behind the skinny man were red
drapes, covering fully the windows behind them, not allowing any light to pass
through. About six men stood around the room, all big and bulky like the man
who led them there, only they wore smart suits and they each had an earpiece. A
metal board engraved with the name “Kim Ryewoon” in Hangul was placed neatly on
the desk. Ryewoon called the two boys closer with his hands. The two stepped
up.
“Not the son of a bastard,” said the skinny man, strictness
in his withering voice. “Only the masked boy.”
Jongup stepped back, and Daehyun bravely stepped to the
front.
“So, you want to claim your reward?” Ryewoon asked, a
sinister smile playing on his face.
“Yes.” Daehyun had his nerves together; probably since he
told Jongup about the mask. The old man didn’t deny his request. He pulled a
briefcase from under his desk and unlatched it, showing the amount of cash to
Daehyun. After he got a glimpse, Ryewoon locked it back together.
“But you haven’t completed your task yet.”
Daehyun’s eyes widened. Ryewoon opened a drawer in his desk,
revealing a dagger, its edge sharp and glinting. Ryewoon traced it with his
finger. He looked up sharply at Daehyun, his smile powerful and controlling. “Get
the chip out of his brain.”
“But that wasn’t part of the deal,” Daehyun insisted, his
voice weak from his dry throat.
“Very stupid of you, boy.” Ryewoon pulled out his own copy
of the wanted paper. It looked untouched; its edges still perfect and its ink
still shiny. The old man pointed with the dagger to the very bottom of the
piece of paper – a fine print. “It says that if reward was to be claimed after
over five years, any special request from the rewarder was to be completed by
the person who claims it.”
“But that wasn’t in my copy—“ Daehyun searched his pockets,
blood flowing out of his face as he remembers throwing the fragment of paper
out as they stepped into the building.
“Well?” Ryewoon asked, seeing Daehyun’s eyes were full of
regret and uncertainty. He offered the dagger. “Do you want your reward or not?”
Daeri’s face flashed across Daehyun’s mind. Her silver hair,
styled in two pony tails and a side fringe. Her pale face laughing, then
coughing from the pain. Daehyun took the dagger and turned towards Jongup.
Jongup’s eyes were full of the innocence; the same one from the wanted flyer.
His body didn’t move, and sweat trickled down his cheeks. He started shivering
when Daehyun walked towards him, the dagger pointing straight to his forehead.
Daehyun stopped when the dagger was no further than a centimetre away from
Jongup’s skin. His eyes suddenly caught Jongup’s, which had been eyeing the
dagger all along. They looked at each for awhile and suddenly Jongup’s eyes
relaxed.
“You’re not sure how to use that, right?” Jongup said under
his breath. Daehyun could hear him, but he didn’t react, not wanting to attract
attention. “It’s easy. Like this-"
Jongup grabbed Daehyun’s wrist and started to trace the
dagger’s edge along his temple. Daehyun didn’t know what to do. His throat was
dry and his body shook. Before the people watching them could do anything,
Jongup used his strength to stick the dagger into his chest.
As if by instinct, Daehyun pulled it back out. Jongup
coughed out a spatter of blood before falling on to the ground. The men rushed
to get the boy – so that they could dissect the chip out quickly before the
body gets cold – but Daehyun pointed the dagger at them, shouting “Don’t touch
him!”
Daehyun got on his knees, trying to get Jongup to stand up
again. He was sure it didn’t hit anywhere lethal – probably didn’t even touch
his ribs – but Jongup was panting, his heart not able to function properly with
the punctured lung. In all his failed efforts, Daehyun laid Jongup down,
staring and sobbing at him as blood constantly flows out
of his mouth. Jongup was choking on his own blood as he used his last bits of
strength to pull down Daehyun’s mask. His cheeks were tear stained, his plump lips
shivering uncontrollably. His eyes got moister and moister by the second.
“Daehyun…” Jongup said. He was tired from holding on. He had
to let go, because all he was feeling was pain. His eyes became smaller and
smaller, shutting as he whispered “I finally get to see your face… but you’re
not smiling.”
“I-I’ll smile for you, Jongup,” Daehyun said, his whole body
shaking. He forced a curve on his lips, his tears running down to his chin. “Jongup,
look I’m smiling. Jongup?”
The boy didn’t respond. Daehyun neared his face to the other’s.
He didn’t feel air coming out of his nostrils.
“Jongup? Moon Jongup, wake up!” Daehyun strained to keep his
mouth in that shape. But he did it anyway; even with the tears dripping into
it. “Look I’m smiling! I’m smiling for you! Jongup…”
Daehyun screamed of frustration. Jongup was gone. And
Daehyun killed him. But it wasn’t his fault.
It was Kim Hyewoon’s.
Daehyun untied his mask and wore it over Jongup’s bloody
mouth. He laid the body down and picked up his dagger. He turned towards the
old man, the smile gone.
“Good show! That’s enough. You can leave the body now.” Kim
Hyewoon applauded the boy. Daehyun didn’t agree.
“I’ll leave it for now. Right now I have to handle another
one.” Daehyun came forward to the desk.
“Another one?” the old man repeated. “Oh you mean your
reward? Well you didn’t techni-“
Daehyun stabbed the old man right in the heart. The man
looked at his chest, then shakily looked at the silver haired boy. Daehyun
pulled back the dagger from the body of its owner. Blood sputtered onto the
desk, the man’s face falling after with a thump. Daehyun looked around the
room. No one dared stop him when he took the briefcase from under the desk. He
took Jongup’s arm and slung it over his shoulder, carrying him slowly out the
building. As he stepped out the same door he came in, he saw the fragment of
paper he threw away. He picked it up and crumpled it into his pocket – as a
souvenir.
He brought the briefcase and Jongup’s body back home, and by
dawn breaks Daehyun had a hole ready for Jongup in his backyard. He carefully
put his body in, along with the mask. And with tears streaming down once again,
he piled back the dirt onto Jongup’s body. He placed a flower stem at the side
where Jongup’s head was, then cleaned up. He kept the dagger in his closet.
Then he took the briefcase to the hospital. When he saw Daeri, she ran towards
him and gave him a tight hug, tears streaming down her cheeks. He gave one
back.
Sofia opened her eyes.Coming back to reality,slowly.She just stood there,still in Robert’s arms.She pushed Robert away and ran off.Robert stood there,looking at her go.He smiled a sly smile.”You’re not getting away,Sofia.” He walked away.
Sofia ran to her car and got in.She sat still at the driver’s seat,her hands on the steering wheel.She had no control over herself.Her soul,her heart,her body had a mind of its own.It felt like nothing controlled it.It just moved.
Sofia,why did you run,Sofia?
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?”Sofia asked,completely angry.
No answer.
“ANSWER ME!”
No answer.
Sofia looked round her now,feeling scared.
Why are you scared?
Sofia closed her eyes.
Sofia was up early.The sun shone beautifully.Sofia started her car and prepared to drive.She simply couldn’t go back to the Central Market.Either the people would recognize her and gether,or Eric and Robert would.Shedidn’t know where to go,but she would find someplace. She turned on the radio.She started her drive.
“Hi,where you going?”said a familiar voice.
Sofia turned to the direction of the voice.She almost hit a lamppost when she saw Eric seated beside her.
“How did you get in here?”Sofia asked,driving more carefully now.
“That’s not important,”said Eric,looking at the road.
“Eric,who are you?”Sofia’s eyes still on the road.
“I’m…just like you,Sofia,”he answered,hesitantly.
“Just like me?”
“Yes,we’re the same.Anger got the best of us both,”
“Like Robert?”Sofia asked,looking at him closely.Eric looked away.
Eric was hesitant.”Yes,like him,”It got quiet.
“You want me to get rid of myself?You want me to commit suicide?”Sofia asked,breaking the silence.
“It’s for the good,”Eric answered,calmly.
“For the good?Why don’t you go kill yourself then?”Sofia exclaimed,driving more furiously now.
“Kill one soul and save the others,”Eric answered,turning his head to look at Sofia.
“No,”
“Your choice.You want to kill?You want to torture?Like Robert?Hmm?”Eric asked,all in one go.
Sofia slowed down and parked her car by the side of the road.She pulled out her gun and aimed at Eric’s head.Eric smiled,and didn’t make a move.
“Tell me what is going on?”Sofia asked,her voice sweetly dangerous.
“Don’t you know?I thought I told you,”
“Spare me the rage and anger shit.Who are you,Eric?Who are you and what’s going on?”Sofia’s voice carried a note of impatience.A note that could burst into something bigger.Gunfire and death.
“You’re not alone,Sofia,”Eric began.”There are others,who are like you,Robert and I.There are mainly two groups of us,the ones who prefer to die,and the ones who want to express.I am the ones who want to die,and Robert is the one who wants to express the rage,the anger,”
“Why are you still alive,then?”Sofia asked.
“To let people see the truth,Sofia.Anger and rage can do so much,but there’s always one part of you that anger or rage can never get to,”
“Conscience”
“Yes,precisely!”said Eric,smiling broadly now.
“Why can’t I live?”Sofia asked,puzzled.
“Because people like Robert will do anything to make you kill and torture,they are selfish,Sofia.They value their lives too much,they forget others,”said Eric,with a sad tone.
“Why are you still alive,then?”Sofia asked,doubtful.There seems to be too many gaps in the whole explanation.Why was Eric still alive?She felt like there was one gap Eric seemed hesitant to fill.
Eric hesitated.”Because…Robert would never hurt me,”
“Why is that?”
“Robert is my brother,”Eric continued,”Family will never hurt family,”
“That isn’t true!”Sofia exclaimed.
“Well,not entirely true,but it is true.You know that,Sofia,don’t you?”
“Yes,I do,”Sofia said.She lowered her gun.
“It’s hurting you,isn’t it?”asked Eric,his voice less hesitant.
“What is?”
“The anger and the rage,”
Sofia kept quiet.
“It is driving you crazy,it’s in your head,it’s in your mind,you can’t think straight..I’ve been there,Sofia,I’ve been there.”Eric said,sounding like a wise old soldier.
Sofia looked down.
Eric lifted her head up by the chin and gave her a long passionate kiss.Sofiaput her hands on his shoulders,and kissed him back.They made out in the car.Tears started to trickle from her eyes. Eric wiped them off with the back of his hand.
“Do I have to?”Sofia asked.
“I wish you didn’t have to…but you have to,”Eric looked at her,sadly.He pulledher in closer to his body.He closed her eyes,and let her sleep.
“It’s time,”said Sofia.
“I know,”said Eric.
They were on top of the tallest building in the city.The wind was blowing hard.Sofia passed her gun to Eric,her tears trickling down fast.Eric hugged her and kissed her for a long time.Sofia took off her coat.Without her coat,she looked beautiful.She was beautiful,she always had been.Eric hugged her from behind.Gave her one last kiss.Sofia told him she loved him.Eric told her he loved her.She jumped off the building.Sofia died.
Three weeks later,news came out that a 17 year old teenage girl had shot her parents and her siblings.After killing her family,the teenager reportedly went out on a killing spree,killing all her closest neighbours.She is wearing a black minidress and a black leather coat and black boots.Anyone who’s seen such a person is advised to contact authorities.Immediately.
