Seventeen.
Angel In Disguise
I spend the remainder of the nighttime deep in thought,
And when the morning finally makes her glorious appearance,
I am exhausted and heartbroken.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang!
The sound of knocks on the door
Is ringing loudly in my ears.
Oh, please stop this ringing!
It hurts so much.
"Time to go, kid!" a man with handcuffs yells as he enters my chamber.
Why is he yelling?
Oh, how his shouts make my ears scream!
Why is everything so loud?
Oh, how I long for the quiet once again.
The man walks to my side with three other men,
Probably for backup.
Psychos cannot be trusted, you know.
He swiftly unlocks the chains that have restricted my movements for so long,
And in the brief moment I am rid of them, I feel a sense of relief.
Oh, how long have I wished for the feeling of relief to fall upon me!
And in this brief moment that she has made her decent,
I feel a sense of empowerment overtake my whole being,
And a smile cannot help but creep its way onto my countenance.
But just as quickly as the beautiful moment of joy comes about,
The man slaps the pair of handcuffs around my wrists
And clicks them shut, while his colleges reach out to grab my shoulders -
Probably in the hopes to stop me if I so choose to rebel against this .
Little do they know that I am too weak to rebel.
My memories have drained me of all that I am
And all that I ever was.
But I don't want them to see me as weak -
Let them think what they shall.
Let them think that I am still an abomination, a monster,
For that is true.
That is very true indeed.
But in this moment,
My body is too weak to rise to the occasion
And confirm their expectations.
I don't want to struggle against these people anymore.
I should be saving all of my energy for the trial.
It's not that I need it to plead innocent -
That would be a waste of my time.
I know that I am going to be convicted,
So why tell pointless lies?
If I lose my energy,
How can I possibly stay awake long enough
To tell them to just finish me off
And to do it quickly?
I can rest again
Soon after I stop breathing.
Time becomes an ambiguous blur around me
As I am lead to the court house to be judged.
I am put in a car,
Surrounded by the men,
The smoke of their cigarettes,
And the increasing volume of their voices.
I am thrown out of the car upon arrival
And rushed inside the court house,
Escorted by a flood of police officers.
And among those officers,
I recognize one -
The chief.
The one who interrogated me,
Investigating his "false trail."
"Today's the day, son," the chief says to me while opening the doors to the court house and supervising his lackeys,
"Are you ready?"
I do not answer the chief.
I do not have the energy to answer him.
"Always the same, son. Always too stubborn to speak. You better find your voice before the trial starts, son.
If you don't...you're a goner for sure."
After being rushed into the court house,
I am rushed behind the first door visible upon entrance.
It is the court room.
It is where I am going to be faced with my demons
In less than thirty minutes.
I am seated behind a desk that is a short distance away from the judge's stand.
My escorts then turn away from me and retreat towards the door in which they entered.
I am greatly confused by this action.
I thought...I thought I was...a psycho?
Psychos can't be trusted...
No, we can't be trusted.
So why, then, am I being trusted enough
To stay here alone...
"It's alright, son," the police chief calls the moment he reaches the large, mahogany door,
"I know you could use some time to yourself.
I may not know what goes on in your mind, but I know that you need some time to sort things out before your trial starts.
Just...relax. Think. Do whatever it is you do so well.
I know....I know you're a good boy, son.
Yeah, you're a good boy.
I wish I had seen that earlier.
Just forget about everything and....do whatever it is you did the day I came to see you."
And with these words,
The chief closes the large door behind him.
The click of a lock echos throughout the vast, empty room
In which I am left seated, abandoned and alone.
Finally.
Everything is quiet.
Everything is peaceful.
Everything is going to end soon.
Yes, I can feel it.
Everything will be over soon.
What do you think life will be like after death, Jonghyun?
For you, it's going to be a place of unimaginable evils and torments,
And the sooner you face this reality, the better off you'll be.
Or...maybe there is no life after death.
Maybe all other realms are myths, made up by cowards who were too afraid to accept that the moment their heart stops beating, they can only awake to emptiness.
When I die...will I really just...just be gone?
Will I really cease to exist altogether?
Maybe that's for the best, Jonghyun.
Your presence can only further harm the people around you.
Everyone would be better off
If you were dead.
And so I sit
For the half an hour before the beginning of the trial
And just reflect on all of my mistakes
And all of my misfortunes.
While I am in this state of reflection,
The memory I have longed to forget begins to play itself out in my mind.
I try to push it away,
But I cannot.
It comes back twice as clear, twice as vibrant,
And completely takes over my conscious mind
Despite my efforts to refute it.
The only thing I can do now
Is welcome it to play itself out to the fullest
Or else it will never go away.
It will come back to haunt me at the worst possible time.
And so I close my eyes,
Tilt my head back on the chair in which I am sitting,
And just watch the mental projections and hallucinations fly by behind my closed eyes.
And when the morning finally makes her glorious appearance,
I am exhausted and heartbroken.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang!
The sound of knocks on the door
Is ringing loudly in my ears.
Oh, please stop this ringing!
It hurts so much.
"Time to go, kid!" a man with handcuffs yells as he enters my chamber.
Why is he yelling?
Oh, how his shouts make my ears scream!
Why is everything so loud?
Oh, how I long for the quiet once again.
The man walks to my side with three other men,
Probably for backup.
Psychos cannot be trusted, you know.
He swiftly unlocks the chains that have restricted my movements for so long,
And in the brief moment I am rid of them, I feel a sense of relief.
Oh, how long have I wished for the feeling of relief to fall upon me!
And in this brief moment that she has made her decent,
I feel a sense of empowerment overtake my whole being,
And a smile cannot help but creep its way onto my countenance.
But just as quickly as the beautiful moment of joy comes about,
The man slaps the pair of handcuffs around my wrists
And clicks them shut, while his colleges reach out to grab my shoulders -
Probably in the hopes to stop me if I so choose to rebel against this .
Little do they know that I am too weak to rebel.
My memories have drained me of all that I am
And all that I ever was.
But I don't want them to see me as weak -
Let them think what they shall.
Let them think that I am still an abomination, a monster,
For that is true.
That is very true indeed.
But in this moment,
My body is too weak to rise to the occasion
And confirm their expectations.
I don't want to struggle against these people anymore.
I should be saving all of my energy for the trial.
It's not that I need it to plead innocent -
That would be a waste of my time.
I know that I am going to be convicted,
So why tell pointless lies?
If I lose my energy,
How can I possibly stay awake long enough
To tell them to just finish me off
And to do it quickly?
I can rest again
Soon after I stop breathing.
Time becomes an ambiguous blur around me
As I am lead to the court house to be judged.
I am put in a car,
Surrounded by the men,
The smoke of their cigarettes,
And the increasing volume of their voices.
I am thrown out of the car upon arrival
And rushed inside the court house,
Escorted by a flood of police officers.
And among those officers,
I recognize one -
The chief.
The one who interrogated me,
Investigating his "false trail."
"Today's the day, son," the chief says to me while opening the doors to the court house and supervising his lackeys,
"Are you ready?"
I do not answer the chief.
I do not have the energy to answer him.
"Always the same, son. Always too stubborn to speak. You better find your voice before the trial starts, son.
If you don't...you're a goner for sure."
After being rushed into the court house,
I am rushed behind the first door visible upon entrance.
It is the court room.
It is where I am going to be faced with my demons
In less than thirty minutes.
I am seated behind a desk that is a short distance away from the judge's stand.
My escorts then turn away from me and retreat towards the door in which they entered.
I am greatly confused by this action.
I thought...I thought I was...a psycho?
Psychos can't be trusted...
No, we can't be trusted.
So why, then, am I being trusted enough
To stay here alone...
"It's alright, son," the police chief calls the moment he reaches the large, mahogany door,
"I know you could use some time to yourself.
I may not know what goes on in your mind, but I know that you need some time to sort things out before your trial starts.
Just...relax. Think. Do whatever it is you do so well.
I know....I know you're a good boy, son.
Yeah, you're a good boy.
I wish I had seen that earlier.
Just forget about everything and....do whatever it is you did the day I came to see you."
And with these words,
The chief closes the large door behind him.
The click of a lock echos throughout the vast, empty room
In which I am left seated, abandoned and alone.
Finally.
Everything is quiet.
Everything is peaceful.
Everything is going to end soon.
Yes, I can feel it.
Everything will be over soon.
What do you think life will be like after death, Jonghyun?
For you, it's going to be a place of unimaginable evils and torments,
And the sooner you face this reality, the better off you'll be.
Or...maybe there is no life after death.
Maybe all other realms are myths, made up by cowards who were too afraid to accept that the moment their heart stops beating, they can only awake to emptiness.
When I die...will I really just...just be gone?
Will I really cease to exist altogether?
Maybe that's for the best, Jonghyun.
Your presence can only further harm the people around you.
Everyone would be better off
If you were dead.
And so I sit
For the half an hour before the beginning of the trial
And just reflect on all of my mistakes
And all of my misfortunes.
While I am in this state of reflection,
The memory I have longed to forget begins to play itself out in my mind.
I try to push it away,
But I cannot.
It comes back twice as clear, twice as vibrant,
And completely takes over my conscious mind
Despite my efforts to refute it.
The only thing I can do now
Is welcome it to play itself out to the fullest
Or else it will never go away.
It will come back to haunt me at the worst possible time.
And so I close my eyes,
Tilt my head back on the chair in which I am sitting,
And just watch the mental projections and hallucinations fly by behind my closed eyes.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After that day,
Kibum tries to avoid Minho at all costs,
And the moment Minho takes notice of this,
He follows Kibum, always trying to enter his field of vision.
At first Minho only tries to be seen by Kibum.
He never tries to disrupt his thoughts with his jests.
He never tries to make Kibum cry at the sound of his cruel voice.
He never tries...until one day -
Until one rainy day,
When there is no sunlight for comfort,
And no escape from his torture.
"So, Kibum," Minho says nonchalantly, breaking the silence while turning his head to face Kibum.
I watch Minho like a hawk, afraid of what he will say next.
Kibum's heart is so fragile at the moment...
I just don't want too see him get hurt.
Kibum only looks at his feet.
Not once do I see him stir from his slouched position on the couch.
He just sits there, painstakingly still,
And it hurts to watch him stay like that.
"Kibum, how did it feel, eh?
How did that kiss feel?"
There is no answer from his side.
Since the question is not directed to me, I don't think I should barge in to give Minho an answer.
At this time, I think that Kibum should fight his own battles.
And so I leave him, alone, to fight this battle.
I leave him for the sanctuary of my own mind,
Where I know nothing can touch me,
Nothing can hurt me.
"Come on, Kibum. Why are you ignoring me?
I'm just asking a friendly question."
Still no answer.
Still no movement.
While he is sitting there, so still,
I wonder what he could possibly be thinking.
Or, perhaps, he isn't thinking at all?
Perhaps he is merely processing the words being spoken
And, one by one, letting them melt away from his short term memory.
"Was it your first kiss, Kibum?
Well, was it?"
Why does he keep asking questions?
Can't he see that Kibum is uninterested in his inquiries?
What on earth is he up to?
"Kibum, why are you ignoring me? Me? Your own brother?
I'm only curious.
I'm just trying to know more about you.
Is that so wrong, Kibum?
Is that so wrong?"
"Minho!" I finally manage to shout.
It doesn't register in my mind that I have done it,
But I have done it nonetheless.
"Minho, stop it! Just...just leave him alone."
"Or what, Jonghyun?" Minho asks as he struts up to me and viciously s his face closer to mine.
"I'm not going to start anything with you, Minho..."
"Good idea," he replies snidely as his nose begins to press against mine, "You don't want to mess with me."
Upon hearing these words,
I start to feel a rush of uncontrollable anger overtake my body.
"You talk tough, Minho. Why don't you show me how tough you really are?"
"You sure you can handle that, Jonghyun?"
"Please, you're all talk and no action, Minho."
"I'm trying to save you here, Jonghyun, but you're just digging your own grave..."
"Then pick up a shovel and help me dig, Minho."
"You're asking for it now..."
"I've been asking for it for a while now..."
"Alright that's it, I'm gonna..."
"Oh, finally! You're actually gonna do something! God, Minho, you're so..."
"Guys," Kibum interjects in a muffled whisper, "Just...just stop."
"No, I'm not going to stop! I refuse to stop for you or for anyone, Kibum. I'm gonna give this guy what he deserves," Minho shouts as he balls his fists and teasingly begins rubbing them against my cheeks.
"Minho, let's just drop it. Kibum..."
"Oh, sure, it's all about Kibum. It's always got to be about Kibum, doesn't it?
Oh, Minho, Kibum is going to go to medical school and be a successful doctor and reincarnate the family reputation.
Oh, Minho, you should go stay with your brother, try to lead him back to the right path for his future.
Oh, Minho, you know that you could never carry on the family legacy. You're just not suitable for that kind of pressure.
It's always about Kibum in the household, isn't it?
Well, I'm tired of it.
Do you hear me?
I'm tired of your interests always coming before mine!
I'm tired of my mother obsessing over your well being, meanwhile I'm desperately trying to get her to pay attention to me for two seconds of my life.
I'm tired of being second best to you, Kibum.
You're not even related to her.
Do you know how much it hurts to have your own mother,
The very woman who brought you into the world,
Cast you away to tend to the interests of another -
A ungrateful gay boy who wants nothing to do with her very existence?
I've tried so hard to be all that she wants you to be.
I've gone to sleep crying, hoping that when I'd wake up in the morning.
She would be there to say how proud she was of me,
How thrilled she was to see her son trying so hard.
But that never happened, Kibum.
That never happened,
And it's all because of you.
But guess what, Kibum?
Now I've got the dirt on you.
Now I've got what it takes to take you off your pedestal and rid you of your perfect image once and for all.
Oh, wait til mama hears that her perfect little step-son, Kibummie, the kid who can do no wrong, is a .
Oh, just imagine the shock she'll have! Just imagine the heartbreak; the disappointment.
You'll be left alone, Kibum.
I certainly don't want to be known as the guy with the in his family,
And I'm sure that my mother would say the same thing.
We have to keep our notable reputations, you know.
You can soil yours all you want,
But some of us still have standards.
Oh, wait until mother hears of this!
I'm going to ruin you with this, Kibum.
I'm finally going to ruin you
After all these years."
"Minho...d...don't..." Kibum stutters as tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes.
"Why not? I have to protect our family, Kibum. We can't have our hard earned standings being soiled now, can we?"
"Minho, that's not fair..." I start, ing my body closer to his in absolute outrage.
"What's it to you, Jonghyun? You're not part of our family..." Minho replies just as angrily while grabbing me by the shirt collar and hoisting my body off the ground like a rag doll.
"Minho, please..." Kibum calls again, his sullen tone enough to tear my heart in two and then in two again, but not enough to phase the ever-charming and ever-reasonable Minho,
"Please...don't tell mom."
"The way I see it, you have one of two choices, Kibum," Minho concludes coldly, plopping my body down on the floor as he turns to face his helpless step-brother,
"You can either ditch this guy, find yourself a nice little girlfriend, and straighten yourself out,
Or you can live the rest of your life with him, knowing every second of every day that people are frowning upon your choices and having absolutely no respect for you whatsoever.
Since I'm a rational man, I'll wait for you to make your decision, Kibum.
I'll give you a few days since I understand that heartbreak pushes back progress.
But be warned -
I will not hesitate to tell our mother if, and when, you choose to stay with your little lover.
Just remember that, Kibum.
Remember it well."
And remembering it well he does.
He remembers it so well,
That Minho's voice takes over every available inch of space in the apartment,
And the only thing that he can see is Minho's sinister smile;
The only thing he can hear is Minho's tantalizing threats.
Even after Minho packs his bags and leaves us be,
Saying nothing but, "I couldn't stand to stay in a household of faggots" upon leaving,
Minho is still here.
He is still as real to Kibum as the clock hanging on the wall
Or the other party sitting on the red couch, observing his every move.
For the next few days, Kibum never speaks.
He only exits his room in the morning,
Sits down at the breakfast table,
Looks out the window,
And makes his way back into his room.
He repeats this process for all regular meals,
And no matter how hard I try to get him to speak to me,
He never makes the effort.
And I don't want to force him to make the effort.
I want him to do it all on his own
Whenever he's ready.
All I can do is hope and pray that Kibum will be alright.
For these few days,
These painful, painful few days,
Kibum is not himself.
For these few days,
I hardly recognize the boy I see seated before me.
I pray that Kibum will be returned to himself once again.
I pray that no matter what choice Kibum makes for his future,
He will always be happy and always wear that same beautiful smile
That he smiled for me many times before -
That same smile that he wore
When he told me how important I was to him,
And that same smile he wore the very moment before we shared our first kiss.
That's all I want for Kibum.
Yes, that's all I ever really wanted for him.
After that day,
Kibum tries to avoid Minho at all costs,
And the moment Minho takes notice of this,
He follows Kibum, always trying to enter his field of vision.
At first Minho only tries to be seen by Kibum.
He never tries to disrupt his thoughts with his jests.
He never tries to make Kibum cry at the sound of his cruel voice.
He never tries...until one day -
Until one rainy day,
When there is no sunlight for comfort,
And no escape from his torture.
"So, Kibum," Minho says nonchalantly, breaking the silence while turning his head to face Kibum.
I watch Minho like a hawk, afraid of what he will say next.
Kibum's heart is so fragile at the moment...
I just don't want too see him get hurt.
Kibum only looks at his feet.
Not once do I see him stir from his slouched position on the couch.
He just sits there, painstakingly still,
And it hurts to watch him stay like that.
"Kibum, how did it feel, eh?
How did that kiss feel?"
There is no answer from his side.
Since the question is not directed to me, I don't think I should barge in to give Minho an answer.
At this time, I think that Kibum should fight his own battles.
And so I leave him, alone, to fight this battle.
I leave him for the sanctuary of my own mind,
Where I know nothing can touch me,
Nothing can hurt me.
"Come on, Kibum. Why are you ignoring me?
I'm just asking a friendly question."
Still no answer.
Still no movement.
While he is sitting there, so still,
I wonder what he could possibly be thinking.
Or, perhaps, he isn't thinking at all?
Perhaps he is merely processing the words being spoken
And, one by one, letting them melt away from his short term memory.
"Was it your first kiss, Kibum?
Well, was it?"
Why does he keep asking questions?
Can't he see that Kibum is uninterested in his inquiries?
What on earth is he up to?
"Kibum, why are you ignoring me? Me? Your own brother?
I'm only curious.
I'm just trying to know more about you.
Is that so wrong, Kibum?
Is that so wrong?"
"Minho!" I finally manage to shout.
It doesn't register in my mind that I have done it,
But I have done it nonetheless.
"Minho, stop it! Just...just leave him alone."
"Or what, Jonghyun?" Minho asks as he struts up to me and viciously s his face closer to mine.
"I'm not going to start anything with you, Minho..."
"Good idea," he replies snidely as his nose begins to press against mine, "You don't want to mess with me."
Upon hearing these words,
I start to feel a rush of uncontrollable anger overtake my body.
"You talk tough, Minho. Why don't you show me how tough you really are?"
"You sure you can handle that, Jonghyun?"
"Please, you're all talk and no action, Minho."
"I'm trying to save you here, Jonghyun, but you're just digging your own grave..."
"Then pick up a shovel and help me dig, Minho."
"You're asking for it now..."
"I've been asking for it for a while now..."
"Alright that's it, I'm gonna..."
"Oh, finally! You're actually gonna do something! God, Minho, you're so..."
"Guys," Kibum interjects in a muffled whisper, "Just...just stop."
"No, I'm not going to stop! I refuse to stop for you or for anyone, Kibum. I'm gonna give this guy what he deserves," Minho shouts as he balls his fists and teasingly begins rubbing them against my cheeks.
"Minho, let's just drop it. Kibum..."
"Oh, sure, it's all about Kibum. It's always got to be about Kibum, doesn't it?
Oh, Minho, Kibum is going to go to medical school and be a successful doctor and reincarnate the family reputation.
Oh, Minho, you should go stay with your brother, try to lead him back to the right path for his future.
Oh, Minho, you know that you could never carry on the family legacy. You're just not suitable for that kind of pressure.
It's always about Kibum in the household, isn't it?
Well, I'm tired of it.
Do you hear me?
I'm tired of your interests always coming before mine!
I'm tired of my mother obsessing over your well being, meanwhile I'm desperately trying to get her to pay attention to me for two seconds of my life.
I'm tired of being second best to you, Kibum.
You're not even related to her.
Do you know how much it hurts to have your own mother,
The very woman who brought you into the world,
Cast you away to tend to the interests of another -
A ungrateful gay boy who wants nothing to do with her very existence?
I've tried so hard to be all that she wants you to be.
I've gone to sleep crying, hoping that when I'd wake up in the morning.
She would be there to say how proud she was of me,
How thrilled she was to see her son trying so hard.
But that never happened, Kibum.
That never happened,
And it's all because of you.
But guess what, Kibum?
Now I've got the dirt on you.
Now I've got what it takes to take you off your pedestal and rid you of your perfect image once and for all.
Oh, wait til mama hears that her perfect little step-son, Kibummie, the kid who can do no wrong, is a .
Oh, just imagine the shock she'll have! Just imagine the heartbreak; the disappointment.
You'll be left alone, Kibum.
I certainly don't want to be known as the guy with the in his family,
And I'm sure that my mother would say the same thing.
We have to keep our notable reputations, you know.
You can soil yours all you want,
But some of us still have standards.
Oh, wait until mother hears of this!
I'm going to ruin you with this, Kibum.
I'm finally going to ruin you
After all these years."
"Minho...d...don't..." Kibum stutters as tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes.
"Why not? I have to protect our family, Kibum. We can't have our hard earned standings being soiled now, can we?"
"Minho, that's not fair..." I start, ing my body closer to his in absolute outrage.
"What's it to you, Jonghyun? You're not part of our family..." Minho replies just as angrily while grabbing me by the shirt collar and hoisting my body off the ground like a rag doll.
"Minho, please..." Kibum calls again, his sullen tone enough to tear my heart in two and then in two again, but not enough to phase the ever-charming and ever-reasonable Minho,
"Please...don't tell mom."
"The way I see it, you have one of two choices, Kibum," Minho concludes coldly, plopping my body down on the floor as he turns to face his helpless step-brother,
"You can either ditch this guy, find yourself a nice little girlfriend, and straighten yourself out,
Or you can live the rest of your life with him, knowing every second of every day that people are frowning upon your choices and having absolutely no respect for you whatsoever.
Since I'm a rational man, I'll wait for you to make your decision, Kibum.
I'll give you a few days since I understand that heartbreak pushes back progress.
But be warned -
I will not hesitate to tell our mother if, and when, you choose to stay with your little lover.
Just remember that, Kibum.
Remember it well."
And remembering it well he does.
He remembers it so well,
That Minho's voice takes over every available inch of space in the apartment,
And the only thing that he can see is Minho's sinister smile;
The only thing he can hear is Minho's tantalizing threats.
Even after Minho packs his bags and leaves us be,
Saying nothing but, "I couldn't stand to stay in a household of faggots" upon leaving,
Minho is still here.
He is still as real to Kibum as the clock hanging on the wall
Or the other party sitting on the red couch, observing his every move.
For the next few days, Kibum never speaks.
He only exits his room in the morning,
Sits down at the breakfast table,
Looks out the window,
And makes his way back into his room.
He repeats this process for all regular meals,
And no matter how hard I try to get him to speak to me,
He never makes the effort.
And I don't want to force him to make the effort.
I want him to do it all on his own
Whenever he's ready.
All I can do is hope and pray that Kibum will be alright.
For these few days,
These painful, painful few days,
Kibum is not himself.
For these few days,
I hardly recognize the boy I see seated before me.
I pray that Kibum will be returned to himself once again.
I pray that no matter what choice Kibum makes for his future,
He will always be happy and always wear that same beautiful smile
That he smiled for me many times before -
That same smile that he wore
When he told me how important I was to him,
And that same smile he wore the very moment before we shared our first kiss.
That's all I want for Kibum.
Yes, that's all I ever really wanted for him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"That's not true," I say aloud to myself,
"You're lying, Jonghyun.
That's not what you wanted for Kibum.
You only wanted yourself for Kibum.
You selfish bastard!
You only thought about yourself!
And because you're so selfish,
You're sitting in this room,
Alone,
Dried blood stains smeared all over your hands,
Patiently awaiting the beginning of your end.
Dammit, Jonghyun! Why must you be so selfish?
The selfish man goes the way the selfish man goes -
Stripped of all happiness and stripped of all possessions.
You've lost everything you once loved, Jonghyun.
You brought this upon yourself.
You took it all away from yourself, Jonghyun.
And what do you have to show for it?
What do you have left that will make this life worth living?"
Before I can answer myself,
The door of the empty court room swings open,
And the police chief stands at the entrance and calmly calls,
"It's time, son."
And with that,
The court room begins to flood with faces I don't know.
All around me are unfamiliar faces,
Worn out faces.
They flood into the room one by one,
And soon, the mutual silence once shared between the room and myself
Is broken by the loud chatter of the members of the jury.
The noises continue to envelop the room
Until the judge enters,
Takes his seat at the head of the court room,
And bangs his mallet thrice upon the mahogany tabletop to silence the room.
This moment of silence,
This scarce moment of silence,
Is the only hope I have
To recover my sanity
And confess my sins.
"All rise," the bailiff announces in a voice that is almost, if not more, worn out than the faces of the jurymen behind me.
And the moment I sit back down,
And the judge's eyes connect with mine,
I see Kibum.
I see him.
I swear, I see him.
And in seeing him, I know one thing for sure:
I truly have gone insane,
And there is only one fate in store for those rid of sanity:
Death.
"You're lying, Jonghyun.
That's not what you wanted for Kibum.
You only wanted yourself for Kibum.
You selfish bastard!
You only thought about yourself!
And because you're so selfish,
You're sitting in this room,
Alone,
Dried blood stains smeared all over your hands,
Patiently awaiting the beginning of your end.
Dammit, Jonghyun! Why must you be so selfish?
The selfish man goes the way the selfish man goes -
Stripped of all happiness and stripped of all possessions.
You've lost everything you once loved, Jonghyun.
You brought this upon yourself.
You took it all away from yourself, Jonghyun.
And what do you have to show for it?
What do you have left that will make this life worth living?"
Before I can answer myself,
The door of the empty court room swings open,
And the police chief stands at the entrance and calmly calls,
"It's time, son."
And with that,
The court room begins to flood with faces I don't know.
All around me are unfamiliar faces,
Worn out faces.
They flood into the room one by one,
And soon, the mutual silence once shared between the room and myself
Is broken by the loud chatter of the members of the jury.
The noises continue to envelop the room
Until the judge enters,
Takes his seat at the head of the court room,
And bangs his mallet thrice upon the mahogany tabletop to silence the room.
This moment of silence,
This scarce moment of silence,
Is the only hope I have
To recover my sanity
And confess my sins.
"All rise," the bailiff announces in a voice that is almost, if not more, worn out than the faces of the jurymen behind me.
And the moment I sit back down,
And the judge's eyes connect with mine,
I see Kibum.
I see him.
I swear, I see him.
And in seeing him, I know one thing for sure:
I truly have gone insane,
And there is only one fate in store for those rid of sanity:
Death.
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