Characters: Jongdae

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Eleven years prior.

He just wanted to scream, to cry his lungs out, to tear his chest apart. He stared at the wall before him. Raising his fist, he punched the wall again, and again. Over and over again. His face was distorted in pain, mental and physical. He was long beyond the point of mere bruises, and the first blood was already adorning the white-greyish wall in his room. He slumped down to his knees, hard and fast, even hitting his forehead in the process. But he didn’t care in the slightest. He just shamelessly bailed his eyes out. He put so much time and effort into it and that was how he was rewarded? With failure? Again? He just hated everything and everyone right now, but it was primarily hatred towards himself. Exasperation and agony were pulsing in his veins. Wiping his eyes furiously with his hands, he slumped further into himself and was sobbing more violently than before. His cries of despair were silent, no one would hear him. He curled into a ball on the ground and held himself in an embrace. The pain in his knuckles seared through and overtook the effects of the adrenaline rush he experienced earlier. He laid in this position for an eternity and the sunlight started to fade away with the setting of the sun. The last rays of light were replaced with the obnoxious gaudy orange street lamp outside that illuminated the ceiling of the room.

His consciousness was fading in and out the whole time, his body crying out for a rest, the pain settling in his chest and vibrating agonisingly in it.

It was dark outside when the slump rose to his feet under many struggles. Heaving himself up, he propped his hands on the wall and he cried out in pain. Falling back down, he held his hands near his chest. Moving his fingers just caused him even more pain. Luckily, his left hand was still sort of working. He scrambled back to his knees, trying not to strain his hands, and attempted to get up a second time. Being successful, he stumbled across the room. Leaning on the wall next to the door, he fumbled with the door handle and pried the door open. He listened into the hallway, but he knew he was alone, as always, everyone living here away.

Finding his way into the kitchen, not bothering turning on the light, he felt around in the dark until he found what he was looking for. Pulling the bottle from the shelf, he held the liquor to eye level to determine whether it was the right one and if it were clear. Fixating the bottle between his ribcage and upper arm, he unscrewed the bottle cap. He took a whiff just to make sure it really was the thing he was looking for before he took a big gulp. It was definitely the vodka he was looking for. His face distorted in disgust.

Reaching the bathroom, he flicked on the bathroom light. The sudden brightness burned holes into his eye sockets and he cussed. He was immensely irritated and shielded his eyes from the light from above. Squinting, his eyes slowly adjusted, but still burning like hell. He placed the uncapped bottle on the sink and crouched down. Rummaging through the cupboard, he found the first aid kit. He rose to his feet, still kind of unsteady, and that was the first time he looked at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t the Kim Jongdae he was used to seeing. Instead, bloodshot eyes, swollen from the endless crying, the skin on his cheekbones red and sensitive to the touch. His lips dry and chapped, bits of dried blood on them from continuous gnawing. His face looked like it was stretching over the bones, as if he hadn’t eaten and slept in days, his overall complexion was ashen. The paleness stood out even more due to the smeared blood around his eyes. He shivered beneath his own hard stare.

Looking down on his hands, the view wasn’t any better. His right hand was swollen and adorned with various shades of dark purples, blues and reds, combined with reddish-brown patches of dried blood, the top of his knuckles not even discernible.

Opening the tap, he waited for the water to heat up a little before cautiously cleaning his hands and face, splashing water on his eyes. He just gave up, the pain was almost unbearable. Looking around, he searched the bathroom for a small towel or washcloth to bite into.

Pouring the alcohol over his right hand, he shut his eyes on impact and cursed and screamed into the cloth, almost dropping the bottle due to the sudden pain. Repeating the action with his left hand, he tried balancing the bottom of the bottle on the rim of the sink for supposedly more support. Heavy-handed, he poured the vodka over his left knuckles. The bottle dropped for real and broke into a few pieces in the sink. The leftover vodka made its way into the drainage, making gurgling sound due to obstruction. Spitting out the cloth, Jongdae cursed even more.

Carefully, he patted his knuckles dry and sat on the toilet lid. He rummaged through the first aid kit and brought out bandages and compresses. He struggled a lot with bandaging himself up and it was more than helpful. He discarded the remains in the bin, carefully, not to cut himself with the waste glass in the hallway and turned off the light.

He dragged himself back into the kitchen, his goal being the fridge. The light from it illuminated the kitchen in a faint yellowish glow. Retrieving two bottles of wine, he kicked the door shut. Right now, he was unbelievably glad that he bought bottles with a screw and not a cork cap. Grabbing the bottles by their necks and securing them between upper arm and chest, he made his way back out of the kitchen.

Dragging his feet, he shuffled down the hallway into the bedroom. Pulling the door shut, he fell on top of his bed after discarding the bottles safely on it. His whole body was in pain and laying so long on the ground took its toll on it. The constant straining of his body during that time just made it worse. Suddenly, he started crying again, a sudden rush of emotions. Pulling his knees up, he encircled his arms around them and just cried out the few tears that were left. He was surprised he had even tears left after the whole time. Once the sobbing ceased, he started drinking straight from the bottle, just drinking and staring out of the window into the night sky. A few tears were still rolling down his cheeks.

The wine felt way drier in his throat. He sat in that position for hours on end, the sun was almost rising and a few cars were already passing by. Jongdae continued staring, devoid of all emotion. He knew it wasn’t as bad as he made it, but he put so much time and effort into it and he was rewarded with failure, over and over again. Maybe it was time to move on, start anew, maybe even moving to a different city.

All of a sudden, his door was opened slowly as the first birds started to announce the beginning of a new day.

“Jongdae?” a soft-spoken voice called out for him. The voice was enough to break Jongdae, and he let out a desperate whimper, the door now fully open. His dark world was already lit up a bit, it was truly the beginning of a new day.