Yoon Ji’s POV

“Ahhhh! I’m so happy for Su Min!”

“Oh I know right! I can’t stop thinking about how cute his confession was!”

I glance over behind me. It’s Eun Ji and Mi Young. I couldn’t help but listen into their conversation…. So Su Min got a boyfriend? Interesting. I smile. I love listening in to class gossip. It gives you a little information on what’s going on around you. I continue sketching while eavesdropping…

“I wonder how their date went yesterday?”

“Oh, Mun Hee told me he brought her to the lover’s garden.”

“Kyaa!! Really? How romantic!”

“That’s what I said! Ren is so sweet to her…I’m so glad they found each other.”

My interest in their conversation suddenly disappears. My pencil slides from my fingers. What? Ren is going out with Su Min? It can’t be! I bend down and pick up the utensil. Calm down…maybe it’s a different Ren?

“Same here…oh look, they’re here!” I hear Mi Young say.

I look up at the door. Sure enough, Su Min and Ren had arrived. Hand in hand. A combination of anger and sorrow fills my stomach. My grip on the pencil increases. My eyes moisten a bit and my lower lip quivered.  I feel like crying but force myself not to. I don’t want to believe this is happening…but there’s no denying the truth. The guy I like is going out with another girl….

Ren’s POV

When I got the school the guys hooted and gave me fist bumps. I didn’t expect it but it felt kind of nice. The day slipped by like all others. Before I knew it I was walking home with Su Min.

“But then he realized he had accidentally left my assignment at home…so it’s all good.” She laughs, finishing up her story.

I smile and linked my arm in hers. I feel her hands tighten on my bicep as she leans into my shoulder. A sigh escapes her soft lips. A feeling of tranquility fills me head to toe. Only she can make me feel so peaceful and calm.

We arrive at the apartments. I kiss her forehead goodbye. When I get open the apartment door every ounce of happiness that I had experienced but moments ago vanishes. My eyes widen in surprise. Fear and panic consumes every one of my cells. I am frozen by the sight. What is going on?

My dad sits on the floor. He holds a knife. Red gashes and smudges filled my vision. His arms and legs were covered with cuts, the red liquid flowing to the ground before him. His hands were dyed with the deathly color of dark red as well as the knife in his hands. Tears pour emotionlessly down my father’s cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them. He’s drunk.

“Dad…Dad what are you doing?” I ask softly. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I close the door. My body shakes as I make a few steps closer to him. My throat goes dry.

“Dad….”

He looks up at me hopelessly. Behind the glazed eyes I see pain, anger, sorrow, hopelessness….

“Go away……” he slurs.

I’m a foot away from him. The metallic scent is strong. I shake my head and cautiously start reaching for the knife.  My heart pounds, my breathing gets ragged. He jerks away.

“Leave.”

I ignore him and try for the knife again. I feel warm drops roll down my cheeks. This can’t be happening.

“Dad, give me the knife.” I plead. “Don’t do this….”

He shakes his head and chuckles softly. It scares me even more.

“What do I even have to live for……” he says softly.  “I want to be with her”

With that he lifts up his knife, directs it towards his heart and plunges.

“NO!” I hear myself yell.

 Time suddenly slowed down. I lurched forward, my eyes shut the entire time. I touched something cold. I hear metal slice flesh. Silence.

My body heaves with uneven pants.  I’m scared to look up. Is he still alive? After what felt like a whole day, I lift my head. My dad is staring at me. He’s breathing. I sigh with relief. My tense body calms a notch. Warm liquid slides down my arm. When I look down I can’t help but gasp.

I had stopped my father’s death by grabbing the blade with my bare hands. I couldn’t feel the pain…but from the looks of the injury I don’t think I want to. My entire hand was bright red. The sides of the blade fit snugly in my flesh.  

I gently pry his fingers off of the handle with my freehand. I don’t dare let go of the blade. My father doesn’t bother opposing. More tears roll down his cheek as he stares dumbstruck at the knife.

“Just let me die…I want to be with her……” he whispers.  He looks at me pitifully. “I ….I don’t have anything to live for……”

Something in me snaps. Fire burns within me. I can’t help it. I slapped my father. His head snaps to the side. I glare angrily at him. It takes him a moment to process what had just happened.  He turns his head back to me, mouth agape. I’ve never hit him before. Never. But his last statement just went too far. Before the scared little boy within can get the best of me, I let my voice box take control.  

“You think you’re the only one that’s affected by her death? I’m her son! I lost my mother when I was only NINE years old! You think you’re the only one that’s suffering? You think you’re ALONE in this pain? Well guess what Dad, I’m here too! You’re all I have and you haven’t done anything with yourself ever since she left!”

I stand up and throw the knife at the wall. I’ve never been so angry in my life. The last seven years of anger and emotion came to me. All the beatings, the alcohol, and everything else I’ve had to deal with. I look around me. The piles of trash and beer bottles suddenly brought a new meaning to me. I looked at them in disgust, as if for the first time. I pick the nearest can up and throw it to my father.

“I’ve put up with you for all these years hoping that you’d return to the old self, the one that I could call my ROLE MODEL. I could have left you the moment Mom left! I could have had a better life with grandma or Auntie or whoever! Look at yourself. You lost your job, you’re an alcoholic, you never take care of yourself. You…your pathetic.” I hiss the last part.

I stomp angrily to the kitchen to get the first aid kit. No matter how much I hate him right now, I should still take some care of him.  I go back to him and clean up his wounds. I don’t say anything more. He continues his lack of words and activity. He doesn’t even flinch when the burning liquid touches his open wounds. It takes me an hour.

“Moms not here anymore. So at least try to live for me.” I say before turning to my room, taking the first aid kit with me.  I feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hall.

I close the door to my room and begin cleaning myself up.  Most of the blood was already dried. I open up the bottle and pour it over the cuts. The rubbing alcohol stings my hand. I squeeze my eyes shut and swear. The sting only increases.

“One…..two….three…..” I try to distract myself.

Slowly the pain subsides. I release the breath I was holding and look at my open palm. Two giant angry slashes stare back. I sigh and bandage it up.

When I’m done I fall over on my bed and close my eyes, once again, exhausted by the day, letting the gently hands of slumber pull me into the land of dreams.