Xero, Byungjoo, and Hansol all gathered on the couch, scrutinizing the rock that had shattered Xero's bedroom window. There was a note secured to it with a rubber band. Byungjoo slipped the paper from in between and unfolded it:
 

Kim Byungjoo, if you do not show yourself to our visitations center within the next ten days, there will be prices to pay.
 

The words ended and continued with a disturbing sketch of a person holding a knife to another's throat. Byungjoo grew angry, and stomped to the front door where he had left his jacket, twirling it around his body to find himself into its sleeves. Xero hurried after him to stop him.
He gestured his hands with a shrug of the shoulders.
"I'm going there now. If she wants to sit here and threaten me, she can say it to my ing face."
Hansol joined into the conversation. "Byungjoo, don't do that!"
He scoffed at him, shaking his head. "No offense Hansol, but I know how to defend myself."
The kid frowned and stepped away but Xero gently grabbed his hand, looking to him in sincerity.

 

　 　Byungjoo found his way to his mother's prison, too angry to think of what to say to her. He showed himself to the security officer and waited at a free table, where his mother soon arrived after being notified about his visit.
She sat down parallel from him and smiled. "B-Joo..."
"What. What do you want from me?"
She frowned, taken back by the attitude that lingered in his language. "You don't talk to me like that."
Byungjoo clicked his tongue with an annoyed chuckle. "I love how you think you own me."
"I'm your mother-"
"No. You're not."
"I gave birth to you didn't I?"
"Sure." He clapped his hands onto the table, leaning back in his chair. "I'll give you that." Quickly, he postured himself, lacing his hands together with his elbows barely touching the table. "But that doesn't make you a mother. You didn't raise me. You left me out in the streets to rot."
She tsked. "You only remember the bad things about me."
"The last time I saw you was when I was twelve." He squinted at her, flailing his arms in the air and again, leaning back into his chair. "You held a hanger to my eye because I got in the way of the TV. You barely fed me. You wouldn't let me outside. And when you grounded me, you wouldn't even let me use the damn toilet." He shook his head. "Mother's don't do that. You know who ing does that? Abuser's. I was never good enough for you." He stood up and leaned closer to her, gritting his teeth. "If you ever threaten me like that again, I'll ing kill you. I don't ever want to speak to you. You're dead to me." He kicked the chair and walked off. "There's your ing visit."