I lay on the living room floor humming a happy tune I made up, drawing a family portrait using the new crayons my appa bought me earlier that day. In the portrait, the stick figures had wide smiles on their faces. I pulled away, why was I drawing this? Was it because I was jealous of all the other families, who lived together happily? Was it because I wished for my family to be like this? Was it because my family was only like this in my dreams? I sighed, shaking the thoughts out of my head; I then began to color again, my five year old ears fell deaf to the harsh words being spat out in the next room. It wasn’t that I was actually deaf; it was because I was blocking it out. Thoughts ran through my head, in fact they flooded into my head, making me dizzy. However, in the blur of thoughts running through my head, the one thought about the picture and about my dreams came into mind:

What will happen if I show my umma and appa my picture?

Not thinking anymore, I stood up and grabbed my pictures, running into the kitchen happily, going to show off my art work. I froze in the door way though, I watched in horror as my umma pushed my appa, raising her hand to slap him, but my dad grabbed her wrist before it could make contact with her cheek. Their fighting continued, but I ignored the harsh words, walking closer to them. I think I got a little too close though, because when my umma threw her arms down to get my appa to let go of her wrist, their hands collided with my head, causing me to drop my picture and step back a bit, holding my head, along with all that, I fell on my . I looked up at my mom and dad with tear filled eyes and they returned my gaze with worried ones.

After that, I remember spending a lot of time at my aunt’s house playing with my cousins Taemin and Onew, who were both around my age; Onew being a year older and Taemin being a year younger. Even though I played with the two every day, I’d sit there every night and think about where my umma and appa were. Whenever I asked my aunt about where they were, she’d reply with a confusing answer, which would leave me, well, confused. Every night, after a fun day Onew and Taemin would fall asleep from exhaustion while I just laid there, staring out the window by my bed, looking at the star filled sky, thinking about why my family couldn’t interact as friendly as theirs, thinking about why may family was always fighting, thinking about when it’d stop.

These sleepless nights full of thoughts went on for days, weeks, months, until my umma came to pick me up one day, taking me to some foreign place hours away from my appa, hours away from my aunt, hours away from Taemin and Onew, hours away from my friends, hours away from my home. She took me away to some foreign place that I hated.

The first day in Busan, I asked her about where my father was, and she replied, “Your appa had to leave honey.”

Which lead into the daily question of, “Umma, when is appa coming back?” which she’d reply to with a “I don’t know honey.” This went on for a whole year until she cracked and yelled, “He’s gone and he’s NEVER coming back!”

I remember crying for days, weeks, months, but my umma ignored it and would act like we were perfectly ok without my appa, sending me off to school in the morning, only to have the grandmother next door walk to my school, which was just a few blocks away,  to come pick me up. I’d then stay at Grandma’s house until late at night, until my umma got home from work. By the age of seven, I lived with grandma, literally, I lived with her.  I ate, slept, and played at her house, she helped me with my homework and she taught me about photograph and film, because it had been her hobby back when she was young.

She was the closest thing I had to family at that time; she showed me what love was and she showed me how a family should be. She was my family and I was her family in return, since her husband and daughter perished in a fire a long time ago.

 However after just one year of living with her she passed away and I went back to living with my umma and my step appa. However, she left me all her cameras in her will and

When I was nine, I got my first beating from my step appa. I remember looking in the mirror after gaining consciousness and looking at the blue-ish/black bruises littering my body. I remember cursing the man and cursing my umma, who I didn’t even know anymore, I remember cursing my father who allowed this to happen, I cursed the world for taking my grandma away from me.

By the age of ten, I would sneak out of the house before the sun rose and I’d sneak back in early in the morning, in turn only getting about three to four hours of sleep per night, but I became accustomed to it. However, when I was eleven my step appa caught me sneaking back in and nearly beat me to death. That experience changed me forever; I never went home after that, I’d use showers at school to shower, and I’d sleep in the locker room at night.

However, one fateful night when I was fifteen, I walked into the house to get some money out of my hidden stash of money but witnessed my step appa strangling my umma with a rope, tying it to a rafter, letting her limp body lay suspended in the air, making it look like she committed suicide, I called 119 immediately and they took the man to the state prison, where he’d stay until his trial.

Three days after that horrible day, I had to take part in the trial and I told the truth about what I saw, however, the jury ruled him not guilty and the murderer was released back into the city, he probably found another innocent woman to marry and murder. Two days after the trial, my umma’s funeral happened and the free bastard didn’t even show up, however the man who I haven’t seen in ten years appeared again.

When he dared to show his face in front of me again, I acted like I didn’t recognize him, when I really did, because he looked exactly like he did back then. I acted like he was a stranger, because he was. However, through the whole ceremony, I glared at him through the corner of my eye because he was standing there with his current wife and his new son, his step son, who looked like a girl at first glance because of his shaggy blonde hair that was tied back into a pony tail.

After the ceremony, all the guests from Busan all walked up to me and told me that they were sorry for my loss, when truthfully I could care less about her death, after all she let me live out on the streets for the past five years, however, around these people who all were workers at the club my mom used to work at as a , I forced a smile onto my face and I forced myself to be sad. However, when my biological father stepped up to me with his step son and wife, the smile on my face fell into a deep, deep frown.

“Sungyeol, I know you probably hate me…” said my father.

“Why are you here?” I hissed out, cutting him off, because I was unable to control my temper anymore.

“For your mother’s funeral…also, I have full custody over you now! Isn’t that exciting?” asked my father, smiling at me widely.

However, the frown stayed in place, the only difference was that I was glaring at him now, “Not one bit.”

His smile vanished, “What happened to you?”

“The past ten years you were completely out of my life is what happened…” I hissed out, walking away from him; however the old man followed me.

 He ended up spinning me around and placing his hands on my shoulder, making me scowl, “Listen Sungyeol, I know you hate me now, but you are living with me and I want to make up the past ten years to you. Please, please give me a chance to do so.”

I looked at him coldly, “Why should I?”

“Because I love you, Sungyeol, you are still my son! I haven’t gone a whole day without worrying about you since your mother took you and ran off ten years ago.” Said my father, “At least come live with me…”

I sighed, “Will it get you to leave me alone?”

He nodded enthusiastically and I scowled.

“Fine…” I huffed out.

He then led me back to where his step son and current wife stood.

“Sungyeol, this is your step brother Sungjong, and this is your new step mom, Hyunah.” Said my father smiling, “Hyunah, Sungjong, this is Sungyeol…my son, he is going to be living with us from now on.”

After that, I took them to the house where I SHOULD HAVE lived for the past ten years, but didn’t, because my step father didn’t allow me to. They all looked into the living room, gasping when they saw the blood stains on the walls, the shattered beer bottles and crushed beer cans thrown throughout the living room, which I avoided looking at, since the image of my mother staring at me would come back into my mind to haunt me.

“Sungjong-ah, will you help him pack up?” asked my appa.

Sungjong nodded silently, following me upstairs silently, looking at how there were dents in the walls and shattered beer bottles all over the place. He gasped when we walked into my room and a large blood stain was on the carpet. I pulled out the suitcase from under my bed and cleared out my almost empty dresser, I then walked into the bathroom and took all my things from there and placed them into the suitcase, zipping it up. I then pulled out a trunk and took out all the cameras in it, setting them on the bed, I then went to the walls, carefully taking off the framed black and white photos. Sungjong looked at each of them as I set them into the box.

“Why do all the people and things in the photos look sad?” asked Sungjong.

I shrugged, “It’s my photo style…”

“You took these?” said Sungjong, shocked, “Do you like photo?”

I nodded, standing up and heading to the book shelf in the corner of the room, taking all the picture frames off there, setting them into my trunk.

“I have a friend you might get along with, he’s in love with photography…” said Sungjong.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested in having friends.” I said, taking the photo albums off the bookshelf, and putting them into the trunk. I then put all the cameras back into the trunk and with that, the room was empty.

“You don’t own much…” said Sungjong.

“I don’t need much.” I said, looking at him, “Like I said, I’m not interested in having friends.”

I then walked out of the room, carrying the trunk down stairs first, setting it at the foot of the stairs, I then walked upstairs again and got the suitcase and carried it down, dragging Sungjong down stairs with me.

I then went to my new home, which was a lot smaller than my old one and unpacked my things in the bright, warm room I was to share with Sungjong from now on, as I finished up, I sat on my bed and looked around, my half of the room clashed with Sungjong’s since his was so happy and mine was…gloomy. His bed had neon colored blankets while mine had black and gray blankets. I sighed and lay back on my bead, staring up at the ceiling, frowning. I couldn’t look at the stars…There were no windows on my side of my room, but there were too on Sungjoong’s side, both of which were letting in the light, I frowned.

There was a sudden knock on the door, when I did not answer my father walked in with a wide smile over his face, “Sungyeol, we sent one of your photo albums with Sungjong to his senior high, which is Seoul Arts Senior High, and they said they’d give you a scholarship into the school. They really like all the pictures and even the video on the DVD, also, they heard about all the film awards you won in your old school and they are really pleased to have you going to their school.”

I looked at the old man, ripping the photo album out of his hands, hissing, “I never said I wanted to go. Also, how did you get this?”

“Sungjong noticed it on the dining room table in your old house and thought you might want it.” Said my father, smiling at me, however, my frown deepened on my face and I scrunched up my eyebrows out of frustration.

“Just because he found it, don’t give you right to go showing it off.” I growled out, my father frowned.

“The pictures were good…”

“The pictures aren’t YOURS to show off.” I hissed, “Listen, I understand you want to make it up to me for the past ten years that you left me out of your life completely, but if you keep touching my things, I’ll hate you even more than I do now…because these things are my things, not yours.”

He looked at me, sighing, “I won’t touch your things anymore…Anyways…dinner will be ready in an hour, so feel free to come down.”

He then left and I glared at the boy behind him, who quivered in fear, “I understand you want to be my friend and I understand you don’t want me to go to some foreign place where there are no familiar faces, but listen…I really don’t want friends…I don’t NEED friends…The only thing I need is for you to stay out of my things and to leave me alone.”

I then walked to my desk, hiding the photo album I had in my hands deep into the drawer, which I then locked up. I then walked to my bed and laid back down on it, refusing to get up again, skipping dinner because I was too aggravated.

First chapter, I hope you enjoyed! :D