TW: There will be self harm in this chapter so PLEASE don't read if you could be triggered.

“Junhong? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at school?” Ms. Jung asked, looking at him in surprise.

“I was attacked at school.” He said. “By another student. I fought back, but since I only acted in self defense I'm not in trouble. They let me go home though.” Ms. Jung frowned.

“Are you alright?” She asked, concerned. Junhong nodded.

“Fine. I just… I didn't want to be there anymore.” She nodded. “Ms. Jung?”

“Yes, Junhong?”

“Why didn't they know I live here?” Ms. Jung blinked in surprise.

“They didn't? I thought I had a worker call it in.” Junhong shrugged slightly.

“Either they didn't, or my principal hasn’t looked at my file for a year.” Ms. Jung frowned.

“Well that's not very professional. You should check files on students every so often.” She said and Junhong shrugged again. “You can go to your room now, if you want.” Junhong nodded and left, heading up to his room.

As soon as he shut the door, he broke down into tears. Sobbing, he threw himself onto his bed and shoved his face in his pillow. Seeing Yongguk, as nice as it had been, had seemed to open old wounds that he had tried over and over to keep closed. And stupid Soonkyung, he’d had no idea what he was talking about. Junhong had been ready to kill him for what he’d said. He felt an awful feeling of anger and he wished he could take revenge on Soonkyung for what he’d said. It was almost impossible to control.

And he hated that almost as much as he hated the feeling itself. He’d seen what revenge could do. He’d seen the closed coffin that had had to stay closed to preserve the last image of Himchan, the image of him living. The feeling of a need for revenge had hit him then too, as well as a terrible guilt for wanting these things.

He hated thinking about the funeral, hated thinking about the coffin and how he’d had to watch it be lowered six feet under the surface of the earth. He hated thinking about how Himchan’s friends had tried to console him, even though there was no way he could be consoled from the death of the only person left in the world that had stayed with him.

He hated thinking about how he was friendless, homeless, and how he had no family. He'd been left completely alone in the world. Nothing could keep him from feeling horribly and desperately alone.

And that feeling was still with him, even though he still got visits from Himchan’s friends. Even though Ms. Jung was nice and her son would sometimes sneak him candy, to try and make him feel better. Even though Changkyun from school would try to defend him from others. Even though Yongguk had returned. Despite everything, Junhong was still alone.

His body showed this as well. He recorded his encounters with bullies in scars. His razor was his pencil and his skin was paper. Every bruise left on him from his tormentors was another line on his wrist, or his thigh. Every rib that showed was a reminder of his missed meals. His eyes were never lit, never showed happiness or hope. The light had gone out as soon as Jo Mihye had said the two words that had destroyed everything.

I’m sorry

He hated those words. He hated the meaning, the lack of understanding, the fake pity. Nearly anyone who uttered those words was a liar. They weren't sorry, they didn't know, they couldn't know. It wasn't fair that they could say those words so easily as Junhong struggled everyday, still trying to come to terms. And they were just another reminder of what he had lost. And what he had lost was everything.

As the tears stopped, he took a deep breath and sat up, rolling up his sleeves. He reached underneath his mattress and pulled out the bag that held his blade. Pulling it out with shaking fingers, he set it to his skin and pressed, dragging it across the pale skin.

Pain was always the first thing he felt. Then relief and a feeling of ecstasy that Junhong imagined must be what drug users must be searching for. The release that he associated with the red blood running from his wounds. Never enough though, never enough. But the only way for it to be enough would become the one thing that scared Junhong more than anything else. Something he had already seen too many times for someone who had only lived fifteen short years. Something that had claimed his whole family, and that Junhong refused to succumb to yet.