Tuesday, December 11, 2012

We must be killers p1.

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 started 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 body 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!"

*

On my phone. Had this random idea but I didn't know I'd make it this long. I guess I don't want it to turn out to be like Mask - simple with no emotion roller coaster  So please do forgive any grammar/spelling error since this is so last minute. Unsure of how many parts. Maybe 3 if I really wanna portray the emotions. Not that Junhong has a lot of 'em.
Out.

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