This time, I'm turning away from my normal Kyuwook one shots and bringing about something that I've been /wanting/ to do for quite some time.

This one shot is based on the song and short story "Monster" by Meg & Dia.
If you've never heard this song before, I suggest that you listen to it after (or before, it's your choice) reading this one shot.
Also, for those of you who wish to read Meg and Dia's short story (which they, obviously, based their song on), I'll post it at the end of the one shot so that you can read it~ It really is a masterpiece, and though I couldn't convey it in such a beautiful way as they could, I hope that this one shot doesn't disappoint.

I won't be rating this as M, because it's not anything that really deserves such a rating, but there are implications of , for those of you who wish to avoid such a subject. But, it's nothing that you can't handle, I'm sure C:

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His body shivered as he squeezed himself between the couch and the wall.

Shouts of hate and rage spread over each corner of the room, suffocating him and confining him to this spot that was his savior.

He always had three.

Under the table. In the closet under the stairs. And behind the couch.

These three places were the only ones that concealed him.

Even though he couldn't see what was going on, he could hear every word, every bottle breaking, and every cry of terror. It didn't take anything more than his six year old imagination to put a picture to it.

"Love me." He whispered silently, praying to the God that he wasn't sure existed. But, at a time like this, it was all that he had to believe in. "Why don't they love me?"

He wished to remember how things were when he was an infant. Did they love him them?

"Love me." And this time, the silent cry was aimed at his parents. The people whom he was never to refer to as mom and dad.

They were Hannah and Sir.

Always.

And in return, they never called him by his name, either.

At school, they knew him as Hyukjae.

At Church, he was called Hyukjae.

But at home...

At home they called him Monster.

He placed his tiny hands over his ears in the hopes of drowning out the words that struck him like the blows to the face that stolen the life from his mother's eyes. He sung quietly to himself, trying not to make a noise. He was the only one that he had right now. He was the only one who could calm him down.

This six year old boy had only himself to turn to.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word..." He started, letting the tears that escaped him roll down his cheeks and stain his much too pale face. The taste of salt water was, strangely, almost comforting.

"YOU FILTHY !" Glass shattered, and their was a wail of pain.

The boy pressed his hands tighter to his ears.

"Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

"I SHOULD KILL YOU!" More shrieks, and more tears from 2 different pairs of eyes, both colored the same.

He struggled to remember the lullaby for a moment.

It's not as though his parents ever sang it to him. He'd learned it in school.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing..."

The shouting halted, and so did Hyukjae's breathing.

He knew what that silence meant. They were looking for him.

Every night it was the same. They fought with one another, his mother left bruised and battered.

But it was him that they really wanted to hurt.

Because who was better to take their anger out on than a pathetic coward?

She was always happy to have the malice aimed at him.

And he was always happy to have it turned away from himself.

When they finally found him, the same small words relayed from the boy as always. His eyes would dart from sir to Hannah, training on her bruised face, her swollen and split lip.

She used to be beautiful. And, the times that she slept, she still was. Her fragile outline, of hardly more than 20, was weary. Her eyes held almost no emotion, but occasionally flashed the bitter hatred she felt for the baby boy that had ruined her young life. Her porcelain body filled with liquor much to hard to contain. And she struggled to live. The scars of her mind shone clearly through her skin.

As he looked upon the face of the woman that should have saved him, he would ask what he'd done wrong.

He always called them Sir and Hannah. He always did well in school. He never asked for anything.

Never had he really done anything wrong.

Yet they would sputter that name that they'd saved for him, Monster, and abuse him with flying hands and words.

And when the night went black, they would confine him to his room. One small windowed across from his bed provided the only source of light... and it was scant. The stars and moon were never out for him. They hid from the screaming as well, he assumed.

In this room, their words would circle him, encompass him, and squeeze the life from his tiny body. They would douse his mind and tickle at his ears and heart, forming long sentences that wouldn't have been coherent to anyone else.

But he knew what they meant.

He was a Monster in their once beautiful lives. He was the reason that this all began. And they hated him for ruining their time spent on this earth.

It was his fault, and he deserved to be punished.

The dark would close in around him, more and more with each passing second. He was terrified to leave the confines of his bed, to even let a hand loll over the side of the mattress.

He hated the dark, and this was something that his parents knew all too well. They too