Chapter 1

“This is your kid?” HoSook snorted, flicking you on the forehead. It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to hurt. Your father only nodded at her vulgar remark and laughed with her. You watched as the couple brought the bottle to their lips and consumed the foul beverage. It was enough to drive you insane.

“I hate you,” you screamed, kicking your step-mother’s kneecap and stormed into the lounge room. You were halted in your steps however, as your father flung you over his shoulder, placed you on the front porch and locked the door behind him.

Your father no longer played the role of the watchful guardian – he was now nothing but a drunken alcohol jerk. It was all thanks to that arrogant, blood- witch who was on crack eighty percent of the time, with her manipulative words and deceiving gestures.

Sometimes you would tell yourself that others had it just as bad, or even worse. But there was no point in self-pity – you knew you were lying to yourself and everyone else did too. Upon the arrival of your step-mother, a part of you shrivelled up and died. You hated her from the moment you had met her eyes, those eyes of pure revulsion and loathe. You made an oath only to interact with her when necessary and vowed never to communicate with anyone else who burdened you.

Years had passed and not once did you utter a single word. Your father had occasionally tried to force things out of you, breath stinking of whisky. “Talk to me,” he would plead, but you spat in his already blood-shot eyes as a response and left him there to flail in his own misery.
 

Despite the slightest tinge of knowledge about your past and present, people still took advantage of your muted status, slithering in a few insults here and there whenever they could.

You were known as Little Wu. Reason was simple; you were responsible for your mother’s death. You hadn’t directly killed her, but because she had passed away minutes after you were born, you were still considered a murderer.
 

“Hey peasant, where do you think you’re going?” A tall, model-like figure strutted from the school’s main doorway, down the steps and in your direction. You stopped in your tracks and gripped onto your books and folders tightly in your arms.

The playground had suddenly directed all of their attention towards the scene. Of course, the girl in front of you didn’t care – it only gave her every excuse to be boastful.

“Look at me,” she demanded, and you did as you were told. “Good.”
 

You shot evil glares at her as you narrowed your eyes at her extending arm. ! You screamed in your thoughts as she abruptly and harshly tugged on your hair. You clasped your head at the sudden stinging sensation and sunk to the ground.

“Oh and don’t forget what day it is tomorrow. Maybe you’re the legend carrier, Little Wu,’ she smirked as she knelt down next to you.
 

The ripples of laughter and personal chattering had ceased and transformed into screams of terror. You lunged forward and clamped your hands securely around her neck.
 

Legend is told that Kris Wu was Seoul’s very own serial killer. Perhaps he had a hard time growing up, or maybe he was just born a complete psychopath. Strangely enough, he had murdered his family before he reached the age of twelve. At the age of fifteen he was sent to a therapy clinic and all treatment was unsuccessful, doctors were unable to keep him “in order”. Rumour has it; he had died three years ago with three bullets in him. You’ve heard these stories too many times and whether he was dead or not, you were still intrigued and infatuated about the whole ordeal.
 

You left her to gag and choke beneath you, her face earning deep red colours as time progressed. She slapped your arms uselessly and some of the other students tried pulling your hair in an attempt to pull you away, but you had pried them off.
 

If it weren’t for the teacher who called out your name, this stupid female dog would have been sent to the heavens.
 

“What on Earth were you thinking?” your father yelled, pacing around the office. He startled you but you kept your gaze glued to your feet, wide-eyed as you recounted your behaviour. “Answer me!”
 

“Sir please, refrain your voice indoors,” the school principal ordered, assertively but in a calm manner.
 

Your father growled at him before dragging you outside to the truck. It was nothing special. It was rusted and ugly, unable to store goods because the compartment had holes embedded in it. “Get in!” he requested as he himself got into the vehicle. You stood there unable to move. There was no way in the world you were going to comply with his orders; father or not. “GET IN!”
 

He got out of the car and grabbed you by the arm. “I wasn’t asking either,” his voice raised. You swiftly broke free of his grip and ran for the woods. Consciously you didn’t know where you were going, but your question was soon answered when your foot treaded upon the wooden porch.
 

The Wu Residence
 

It was awfully quiet, even the hitches in your breathing could be heard. Just in case he was still here, you thought. You looked both left and right, before breathing an extensive sigh. Slowly and cautiously you made your way into the run-down house, each step creaking against the timber floorboards.

You had come here before to cry, to wander aimlessly around the worn-out double story household; and today was just one of those days. Kirsten’s room was on the second floor, the room furthest from the staircase. It was the room she was killed in but for some strange reason, it didn’t have any effect on you. To the left sat an old oak dresser, a dirty mirror flecked with red droplets and a bed covered in white sheets. You shrugged your bag off your shoulder and pulled the aged yet soft duvet over you and sobbed.
 

Your anguished sobs were interrupted; however, as thumping from studded boots throbbed in your ear. You in your breath and brought your legs to your feet, hoping for the best. He couldn’t be here, could he? There was no time to reason with yourself as Kris Wu himself stood in front of the doorway with a kitchen knife in his hand. He was wearing navy overalls and his mask, the cleanest and most pure colour of white, contrasted horribly with his outfit. You were astonished though, as he simply scratched his neck and yawned, continuing his way down the hall.
 

So… what happens now?

Author's note:

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!! 

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, see you all with a new update!
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xx