I once saw a guy kill a man with a dinner fork.

The images are as fresh as the present; no matter how hard I tried to repress them, some things can’t fade. The boys ganging up on the hapless guard, whipping him with his own baton, kicking him while he was down and spitting teeth across the tile floor. The relentless taunts, calling him a coward, dissing him just for the sheer joy of seeing the hopelessness in his eyes.

The way my cellmate had turned to me and told me to join in or I’d be next.

I could still feel my foot cracking the man’s ribs, delivering the blow that knocked him out. Which was fortunate for him, because my cellmate pulled the fork- the one he’d just polished off his pasta with- out of his pocket, and punctured the guard’s chest full of holes.

I remember it all happening too fast for anyone else to come to help the man.

There was a code of honor in juvie: no one narced on anyone else. And so when I was brought in for questioning, I kept my mouth sealed shut, fearing my cellmates more than any adult in the whole damn prison. The worst they could do was throw me in solitary; to me, that was my only escape from the terrors I lived with day and night.

The others taunted me from the day I set foot in the block. Called me a pretty girl and gave me the nickname I’ve kept to today. I never fought back. I wasn’t the weakest of the bunch, but I knew to pick my battles and I knew that I was out of my league.

It wasn’t hard to figure out the hierarchy the moment I arrived. I was in for possession of dope; having been framed as a dealer; I was only slightly better than the rats we shared our cells and food with. Many of these guys were convicted killers. Manslaughter was a couple tiers up from me, and at the top were the true psychopaths.

I lived in constant terror around them and they enjoyed fueling it. Taunting me by telling me how it felt to slide a knife through flesh, how the first screams of the victims were the sweetest, how arousing it was to watch a girl struggle helplessly beneath them. Describing the thrill coursing through their veins when they saw hopelessness; they were wolves who killed for the hunt, not for the meal. They fed on weakness, thrived on it as a crack addict thrives on , and I was full of it. Because of them, I never slept, too fearful that I’d wake up to see a blade glinting in my face moments before it plunged into my chest. Or worse.

Every time I looked at Taemin, I saw myself huddled on that cot, knees curled up tight to my chest, shivering despite the heat as my eyes kept a careful watch of the other boys. He’d be worse off than me; I’d learned to adapt to survive that hostile environment. He’d piss everyone off and wind up dead or worse within the first hour.

“Why are you staring at me, old man?” Taemin complained.

“No reason,” I said mildly as I climbed over the gate surrounding Key’s house. Or castle, more accurately.

Taemin whistled softly under his breath. “He lives here?”

“Don’t mention the size or anything,” I warned. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Is his dad loaded or-”

“Yes. Don’t mention that either.”

Jonghyun and Key were already waiting by the garage. “Minho’s late,” Key grumbled in greeting.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Taemin asked casually. It had taken nearly two months for the others to forgive Taemin for the gas station incident, but since then, Taemin joined us whenever we felt like going out.

“Got a little test for you,” Key replied, jerking a thumb towards the garage. He punched in the panel code- his mom’s date of birth- and the garage door slid open. Taemin’s eyes flew wide open.

Inside the garage was a gleaming red Ferrari, the paint still sparkling. “Wow,” he whispered, reaching his hand towards it. Hesitating, he glanced at Key, who smirked in amusement.

“Go ahead, it’s my dad’s,” Key shrugged. “This is his friggin’ pride and joy, so he never takes it out.”

“We have, though,” Jonghyun replied. “Several times. And let me tell you, it drives like a dream.”

“Here’s the thing.” Key crossed his arms as he turned towards the punk, who was running his fingers along the hood in a daze. “He used to keep the keys locked in his desk, so it was easy for Onew to get to them. But I think he’s started to suspect that we’ve been borrowing the car, so he’s hidden the keys somewhere else.”

“You want me to hotwire a Ferrari?” Taemin’s jaw was on the verge of falling off.

“Can you?” Key retorted as Jonghyun smiled and nodded.

“Hey. Did I miss something?” Minho slouched into the garage. He was rubbing his right wrist with his other hand, and it looked like his knuckles were bruised, but it was hard to tell in the dimness of the garage.

“Not at all,” Key replied, popping the hood of the Ferrari. He gave Taemin one of his rare smiles- it was brief, but Taemin still lit up at the sight of it. “You ready, kid?”

“I’m ready,” Taemin replied, ducking behind the hood of the car.

The glow on his face as he worked made my stomach twist. He was so desperate for acceptance- that “I-don’t-give-a-” façade was a defensive front. He was starving for approval and he’d eagerly turn towards the first person who showed it.

Just like me. That’s what landed me in juvie in the first place.

“Where the hell did you find the beer, Jonghyun?” I demanded when he returned with his hands full of cases.

He shrugged as he placed them on the hood of the car. “It’s a gift, man.” He pulled out a can and popped the top, tipping his head way back as he took a long drink. Key tossed one to Minho before taking one for himself.

Taemin didn’t make a move towards the beer. “What’s the matter, kid? Scared of a little beer?” Jonghyun smirked.

“Old man isn’t drinking,” Taemin said defensively, pointing at me.

“Onew’s being responsible and so he can drive us home later,” Key explained. His voice was already a little slurred, and his smile a little too wide.

Taemin glanced at me again and I shrugged. “I’m not stopping you.”

The kid reached into the case and pulled out a bottle. Opening the top, he took a drink…and immediately sprayed it everywhere. "This stuff tastes like !” he complained.

“It gets better,” I replied over Jonghyun’s roar of laughter, wiping a few drops off my face.

“Yeah? When?”

“When you’re too drunk to notice the taste.” I climbed into the driver’s seat. “Alright, you guys. If you’re gonna get wasted, let’s get out of the city.”

“Hell yeah!” Jonghyun cheered hopping into the seat beside mine. The other three piled in the back and through the rearview mirror, I saw Taemin take another tentative sip, forcing himself to swallow it. He stuck his tongue out in disgust and I bit back a laugh.

I stepped on the gas, the Ferrari’s obnoxious growling echoing down the empty street as we peeled down the street.

“She can go faster than that, Onew!” Key yelled, the words ripped out of his mouth by the wind. I floored it and felt the car shoot further forward beneath me. Clinging to the steering wheel with both hands, I saw Jonghyun flattened against his seat, eyes squeezed shut, a grin plastered on his face. Minho was smiling as he always did and I could see Key laughing soundlessly, his head tipped back towards the sky.

And Taemin tossed his beer into the air, the bottle smashing on the road somewhere far behind us. “This rocks!” he whooped, both fists raised in the air.

I looked at the ecstatic expression on his face, and I couldn’t help smiling.

We were high enough up the mountain that we could see the city lights in the distance. We perched at the edge of the “Crow’s Nest,” soaking up the panoramic view.

And in the other’s cases, soaking up a lot of alcohol as well.

“So awesome,” Jonghyun slurred, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “Have some man, seriously.”

“No thanks,” I said mildly, pushing him off.

"Dude, you're so boring," he whined, shaking my arm. 

I batted his hand away from me. "And you're drunk." 

"Drunk? I'm not drunk," he scowled. 

"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at him. 

"I am smashed!" 

"That's nice, Jonghyun." I turned back to staring out at the city lights and he slouched off to bother Minho, who, if possible, got even quieter when drunk. 

“Old man.” Taemin hopped up onto the rock next to me and took another swig. He grimaced.

“Still not drunk yet, huh?” I smirked.

“Seriously, how do you drink this crap?” He scowled down at the offending bottle, as if determined to conquer it.

“I usually don’t,” I replied. “It screws with your head. God knows your head can’t afford any more of that.”

He glared at that, but held out the bottle to me. “Seriously, I think something’s wrong with it. Here.”

“I’m driving later, Taemin,” I snapped.

“One sip won’t hurt, old man,” he argued, shaking the bottle in my face. I snatched it from him and raised it to my lips, barely swallowing a drop. He was right. It was disgusting.

“It’s fine.” I quickly shoved the bottle back to him.

I wasn’t about to admit to him that I was a lightweight; I swear, I could get drunk off the smell alone.

“Why’re you so damn responsible all the time, anyway?” he grumbled, raising the bottle to his lips again.

“Someone has to be,” I retorted.

“Was that something your mommy said?” he sneered.

I smiled slightly. “My shrink in juvie.” Taemin paused mid-drink and stared at me, swallowing hastily.

“What? You-”

“Yeah, I’m the only one who’s been there,” I replied.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you if you answer my question first.” He nodded and I went on, “What makes you feel that life is a waste?”

He scowled; this was the question he didn’t want to answer, but the promise of hearing my story was good enough motivation. “Dad stumbles home wasted at three AM every day and Mom is an obsessive neatfreak, always cleaning and crap. I’ve seen her wash the same floor five times in one day. What’s the point if you just end up like that?”

I nodded to acknowledge his point, but replied, “Because there’s always the chance that you won’t end up like them. That you’ll be happier. Better off.”

“Whatever,” he snorted. “Your turn, old man.”

I leaned back against a tree and sighed. This was something I’d never told my other friends. “My dad randomly bailed one day when I was in junior high. I started acting out to get attention- I didn’t care who it was from, I just wanted to be noticed. Eventually, I got the wrong kind of attention, and well…” I shrugged.

I saw the recognition that crossed Taemin’s face as he slowly set his beer aside. This story wasn’t new to him; I was telling his story as well as mine. “What was it like?” he asked quietly.

“Worse than withdrawal,” I replied. “The tenth circle of hell.” I leaned my head back to look up at the sky. “Every day, I prayed to survive long enough to serve out my sentence. My shrink told me it wasn’t a question of when I’d get out, but how soon it would be before I’d end up in there again.”

Taemin stared off towards the city in silence. “Do you hate him?” he asked softly.

“My dad?” I asked. “Yeah. He gave me the name Jinki. That’s why my friends don’t use it. Onew’s the nickname I earned in juvie. I kept it as a reminder to myself.”

Taemin stayed silent as I continued in a quieter voice, “There are a lot of things I hate besides my dead-beat dad, Taemin. School, bullies, almost all adults. But I know when to back off. That puts me in control of my life. I always know where I’ll end up.”

He just grunted in response and we sat in silence until the sky began to turn pink at the horizon.

“I wanna drive,” Taemin announced as we returned to the car.

“No,” I said automatically. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” he retorted.

“If you get a single scratch on this-” I warned.

“I won’t!”

“You don’t even have a license.”

“Does it matter? I can drive! I’ve boosted tons of cars! That’s how I learned!” Taemin snapped.

“I am so relieved,” I said sarcastically, opening the driver’s side door.

“Come on,” he complained.

“Just let the kid drive,” Jonghyun hiccupped. “Come on, Onew, it’ll be fun!”

“And if he smashes the car?” I looked at Key, but to my surprise, he just shrugged.

“My dad can always buy a new one,” he slurred.

I glanced at Minho, but he said nothing, as usual. He never participated in a losing fight. “I’m driving,” I said firmly. “That’s that.”

"Come on, old man,” Taemin whined. “I wanna be in control for once.”

His eyes were pleading for me to understand. The alcohol had broken straight through his defenses, and I saw a lost little boy standing in front of me. A boy who was tired of being yanked and ordered around, with the whole world walking all over him. A boy who desperately wanted to take be in charge of his own life for once, even if it was over something small.

I sighed and climbed out of the car, heading around into the passenger seat. Call me weak, but it was the best argument he could have used against me. “Got any more beer, Jonghyun?” I asked, reaching towards the back. Jonghyun slapped a can in my hand and I took a drink. Sobriety would do me no favors here.

Taemin slowly stepped on the gas pedal and jumped as the Ferrari growled in response. “You okay, kid?” I snickered, sipping my beer again.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white and he kept glancing repeatedly into the side and rearview mirrors. Left, right, rear. Left, right, rear, until his eyes were barely ever facing forward.

“Eyes on the road,” I said casually.

He shot me another glare and gripped the steering wheel even more tightly.

“Come on, brat, you can do better than that!” Key jeered from the backseat, but I waved a hand in his direction to silence him. 

“Shut up, man. He’s got it.”

Taemin took a deep breath as he eased the car around a sharp turn. He straightened up just a bit, leaning forward, the car going ever so slightly faster. I didn’t give him directions, didn’t need to give him directions; he chose the roads he wanted to take, picking his own path.

“You’re doing great,” I murmured, my tongue feeling a little thicker than usual. He glanced over at me with a quick smile.

The blind corner came up out of nowhere and he slammed on the brakes as the back of the car squealed too far to the right. The tires screeched as they protested against the friction as the car swung around. Taemin jerked the steering wheel the other way and the car skidded across the blacktop, spinning out of control-

And the tree suddenly burst into our view and someone yelled and-

My eyelids felt weight down as I tried to open them. Shaking my arms, I heard a tinkling sound and as I brushed a hand over my eyes, I felt something scrap across my skin.

I opened my eyes and slowly raised my head. I was sitting in a pool of glass shards, the thousands of tiny fragments glittering in the dim moonlight, like obnoxious little stars. The sun was beginning to rise, its top peeking up to look at us. At the mess we’d gotten ourselves into.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out a dark mass huddled on the hood of the car, covered in the shattered windshield. A tree? No, there was something glittering at its back and it had spiky hair- it was a person- Jonghyun.

Slowly, unwillingly, I turned around.

Key was slumped against the door, his eyes closed. He didn’t react when I whispered his name, or when I reached back and touched his hand. Cold, like ice. I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned over the seat, cupping my hand under his chin and turning his face towards me.

His eyes were shut, shut forever. Dried blood was pooled at his temple and the side of the car, where he’d slammed his head. A dark red streak trickled down his pale cheek, crumbling into a powder when I brushed it with my thumb.

“Minho?” I hissed, turning to him next. Minho’s eyes were partly open as they stared dazedly ahead. I peered closer into his eyes, studied the odd way his head was tilted.

His eyes were glazed over, his fists were frozen against a force he could never have beaten, no matter how strong he was. I reached around, gritting my teeth against the pain in my side as I cautiously felt the back of his neck. Broken. Killed by the whiplash.

I heard a faint groan and instantly turned to the boy seated at my side. “Taemin,” I whispered frantically, shaking his shoulder. “Taemin?”

His face was warm to touch and I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest. One leg was clamped in a tangle of metal from the crushed door, the steel sheets digging into his flesh.

Sirens. I could hear sirens and they were getting closer by the moment. I looked down at the unconscious kid whose head was resting on my arm. The babyish lines of his face, his smooth cheeks, the innocence and serenity oozing out of his pores.

I wanted to curse him. I wanted to punch him awake and scream every obscenity I could think of. After everything I’d said, after everything I’d done, he was going to wind up on the exact same road as I had. The one I wanted him to avoid, the one I’d tried to protect him from. The cops would come and drag him down to hell and he’d be lucky to die before he rotted in there.

A thought came to me as I eyed the can of beer that had spilled all over my front.

Maybe...maybe, he wouldn't have to go after all.