The statue, to Luhan, was just another worthless sculpture.

The statue, to Sehun, was like a clock that turned time back to the worst moments of his life.

The metal hook on the pedestal was just a hook to Luhan. 

To Sehun, it was an awful pain that vibrated through his whole body.

His father used to shove him against that statue, used to take the belt that hung on the hook and beat his son with it.

He starved, chained, beat his cursed ex-wife's child, the defect she had produced simply to wreck his life (or so he believed). He did everything he could think to do, even chased the poor boy with a gun once or twice, yet still his son did not die.

That was all his father wanted, that was his only wish. He wanted to see the body of his hateful spouse's child lying dead on his floor, yet the boy lived through it all. It was as if he was made of steel.

Every time the awful man failed to kill Sehun, he grew angrier, more spiteful toward the wife who had broken him. 

There had been a time when his father had loved him above everything else on earth.

There had been a time when his parents had both been happy, holding their beautiful, healthy child in their arms and talking sweetly to him.

And then, when Sehun was five, his mother had gone off and left him alone with his father, saying he was too 'financially unstable' for her.

His father, instead of being heartbroken, was angry beyond what Sehun had thought possible. He grew angrier with every second of seeing his son, the exact copy of the woman who had ruined him. And so he wished nothing more than the child's death. 

For eleven years Sehun had endured it. Then, on his 16th birthday, he had come crying to the police, blood pouring from his mouth, more blood rolling down his neck, and the skin torn from the palms of his hands, begging for his father's arrest. Two weeks later he had started teaching himself to do makeup, as an escape from the memories that haunted him. 

His father couldn't hurt him now, but that didn't mean no one could.

One of the worst days of his life had been just five weeks before Luhan came. Because on that day, his mother returned.

She had sneered at him. 'I'm more than ashamed to call this defective paper-thin my son. I hate your face, so much like mine. I hate your instincts, so much like mine. I hate you, your whole being! And I never want to look at you again. I just came back to see if the old man's dead yet.'

Sehun had slapped her. And shut the door in her face. 

He would never let anyone see the scars that covered his body, creating a horrid maze that Sehun hoped would disappear.

But it had been worse, for once it had been open. Once, a hated child's blood had flown from this maze.

Luhan meant lots in Sehun's life, though he meant little to Luhan. To him, Luhan was something new, a breath of fresh air, a change from the horrific things he had seen and felt in the past. For Luhan was kind to him. Luhan tried to help him. Luhan was special.

Luhan had been here four days now, and he was still just as kind as ever. Sehun couldn't believe it. He who had been broken was being pieced back together, and Luhan was the reason.

And Luhan was the one who would try to save Sehun, when it came the time for it.