P L A Y L I S T / / T H E  L O N E  S U R V I V O R

I FORGET I

With every subtle or lethal gunshot comes the cries of the enemies. Every wound or scar means nothing when two of the most rugged families have each other’s life in their hands. A death after another and gunshots after gunshots. It’s a sight toxic for the innocent. People have died drowning in their own tears of blood. Family fallen in front another. A painful life-leeching sight.

Though, if you blink an eye, in order to remove all shameless noises of silent death. The one that will leak sinful screams of pain will be you itself. Don’t blink. They Said. Keep Focus. They Said. No Mercy. They Said. But of course, situations like this doesn’t allow any mercy anyway. Not when people are dying one after another as if it was nothing. Not even a subtle crime. It’s stupid. 

Mingyu stayed in the back. He always did. His eyes continually scan the scene. Wrecked and disastrous. A dagger held in his arm yet no blood beautifully coating the blades. The only thing splattered onto the metal dagger were his fragile tears. His family was part of a gang. It’s illegal but they’re discreet enough to kill someone in front of a police without notice. Not a single shattered soul would be able to find out.

He stabbed the dagger onto the ground, letting the blades rest on the dirt as his tears continued to flow. His screams were quiet. Inaudible. Mingyu was careless. A careless little boy without a mind. It’s the only reason that one of the Jeons is standing behind him. His feet gripping onto the grass, soles burning holes.

A gun placed upon Mingyu’s head and Mingyu trails to grab the dagger. The figure mouths poisonous words to the boy in front of him, they’re uncomfortably threatening…it hurts.

His minds isn’t in its right place and he doesn’t want any harm. The figure slowly lifts the gun away, the release of the trigger receiving a soft sigh from Mingyu. “You’re off…for now” He was safe. But not safe enough.

-       

The whole scene wasn’t new. It never was. Born and raised into a family of hatred. Pure, crystal, cunning hatred. It was so heart-aching, the pain stung every single vessel but Wonwoo’s emotions were always kept hidden.

They always hid in the shadows of his untamed soul and were kept locked. Unseen from not a single soul. That was how you would describe Jeon Wonwoo. An untamed boy, no life, no soul, no mind. No idea. He didn’t know what went on around him. Never did either. Not only was his feelings scattered in the dark but so was himself.

They gave him a gun for the first time in that fight. The only thing Wonwoo did was struggle to even catch of hold of the trigger. Palms were stiff, unmovable. His eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. The metal already starting to spread its invulnerable scent around. It was disgusting. His glance went from the gun he wielded to the sight in front of him. It was as if he was questioning himself. To kill or not to kill?

The answer to Wonwoo was obvious. Quite a little to obvious yet he just couldn’t do what his heart told him to. He just couldn’t do what he wanted. He just won’t be able to live the afterlife filled with malefic mischief up to the brim of him life.

Which is why he ran away.

Wonwoo ran. As far as he could away from the family. In a way, Wonwoo, the one to become the next leader was betraying his own family. I would never be a leader. I would never be able to please my family. Not with how they are living. It was a tragic truth. Wonwoo didn’t live by his family’s laws nor the things they’ve done. Wonwoo was far more different than anyone he knew.

With every ste