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009. "End of Struggle"

 

            My foot hangs from the edge of the bed, and the air found its way into my suspended foot, deliriously sending chills into my system, a great contrast to the warm feeling I have on my upper body covered with wool coat. All the windows in this little shack I call home are closed, but the door to my right stood ajar.

            I gulp, a warm feeling of familiarity wind its way into my mind. I was suddenly reminded of all the possible scenes that can happen if I am to scoot closer to that doorway. Thoughts blurred my vision, but I shook it from my head, standing quickly to close the door. I hug an arm to the other, slowly feeling the chill from the outside as I neared my destination.

            A hand gripped mine just as I was about to push the door close.

            I am trapped in the deliriously icy grip of the person on the other side. A hiss came, followed by the raspy voice of my visitor. “It’s time.”

            I stayed still, not moving an inch with my heart hammering in my cold rib.

            “Come…” came his plead, and it took me all my might not to close the door to its frame. The better part of my exhausted brain shouts at me, sending my thoughts jumbled and into a pool of mess. I want to nudge that door a little more, to forget about the person on the other side, to put an end on everything.

            But—

            My usual response assaulted him, and I was left to wonder if I’d ever break free from these chains I imposed on myself whenever I declare these words, “Where to now?”

            He eases himself in my dwelling place, the same exhaustion and gratitude evident in his face.

            “Thank you.”

 

             Winter came, and I surrender once more.

 

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             I pocketed something I never thought I’d ever use and followed him outside.

             We weren’t in a hurry, and after seven years of this same routine, I’ve come to memorize the way he confidently walked to his destination. The sound of his cane as it made contact with the path of snow to the straightness of the seemingly immobile leather coat he wore. The faint but overwhelming stench of danger suffocates me again, and this time, it seemed to mock me.

             What are you still doing helping a devil?

              I don’t know where he goes after every winter meeting, but when I asked him once, he answered with an evasive, “Somewhere cold.”

              Knowing he was there was enough for me to survive for a year without losing it, but years after this, I felt…exhausted.

              Like I want every ties I have with him to end.

              It was strengthened by the event last year, as if the reality of everything dawned on me, pushing every foul thought I can think about him to consciousness.

              He’s not a savior, but a killer.

              He’s not a human, but a monster.

              We ended up in an alley, a few meters away from the cemetery near my home. It was almost a replay of what happened that first night he came, but he was aiming for a different target this time, someone who chose to stay behind garbage bins. I caught the pallid moonlight illuminate the small area as I stepped into the stairs leading to an abandoned house, a few distance away from the crime scene itself. Doing this for the years didn’t help me accept the surreal reality of the way he feeds, so I decided to stand far just until he was finished.

               I didn’t even know why I was still here; helping the very person who killed Taemin, the only person who even bothered to look close into my being. I was a few feet away from the monster, not even caring if my spiteful thoughts run from my own head to his.

               The darkness of the surroundings and the waning moon allowed me to blend perfectly in the darkness. Winter straightened his coat; one frail hand dusted the tears of snow that pelted on him as we trudged our way into this place. Watching him there that night while he waited for his…meal made me want to question how he feels when he fills his thirst, or if he even feels anything aside from satisfaction. But a better part of me kept mum.

                Five steps; five dangerous steps towards his victim for this winter.

                Was he like this that night he deliberately ended Taemin’s life?

                The spite in my senses was back, and this time, I didn’t bother shaking it from my head.

                He crouched, forming a ready stance; a ready stance to corner another innocent soul.

                I studied the scene unfolding before me, torturing myself as the image of a helpless little girl assaulted my eyes. She looked peaceful amidst her pallid clothing and malnourished body, clasped hands tucked in between her head and shoulder.

               Was Taemin praying when he was killed?

                How can I watch another innocent person’s serenity get shattered?

                I stepped out of the shadows, finally acknowledging the anger I put off. One hand unconsciously took hold of the thing I pocketed earlier. My ears felt sensitive, even the slow slaps of his leather shoes in the snow seemed deafeningly loud. I was aware of almost everything now; from the gun in my hand to the scene that will happen right before my eyes any second now; the daftness of it all.

                I steadied the gun in my hand, ignoring the dreadful feeling of the cold metal against my colder skin. It doesn’t matter how much it trembled from my grasp, I am still willing to end everything tonight.

                This is for the people who died decades ago; the people who never wanted their lives to end the way Winter ended it.

                This is for Taemin; for the shattered innocence of his life.

                This is for me; for the destruction of my once pure soul.

                But most especially, this is for Winter; for the end of his internal struggle as a man of death.

 

                 I pointed the gun at the back of his head, but it trembled badly in my grasp. I suddenly couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill the person who once made me feel complete; the very person who once saved me, only to kill my soul right after. I was selfish; I embraced his arrival just thinking he filled the gap I had in my life. This is the payment; the real cold and seclusion finally found me. Taemin’s words haunted me when I felt the gun slip from my fingers, and I smiled, knowing that this will seal the compliment he gave me a year ago.

                Then you are doing the right things for the right purposes, hyung. You have a good head on your shoulders.

                 I am still dubious about having a ‘good head on my shoulders’ as Taemin pointed out, but not about the fact that what I am about to do is indeed, for the right purposes.

                “Thank you Taemin, thank you very much…” The tears dampen my senses, but not the determination that settled as I recalled Taemin’s words.

                 Winter was still crouched on the ground, still waiting for a great chance to slam his wooden cane onto the little girl’s head.

                 I wouldn’t let him.

                 I pushed my voice to talk and managed to confidently blurt out, “You’re tired, aren’t you?” He didn’t utter a single word; not even a plea for mercy. He faced me, as if knowing from the start what I had with me. Pale lips curved in that wishful smile, and but I kept the gun at his head’s level.

                 I took in the hopelessness in his eyes, the creases on the face we shared, and his underlying desire for an end to everything.

                 “Don’t worry,” And with one sure shot, I ended Winter’s life, “we both are.” The last trace of his voice rang in my head as another shot rang in the alley.

                 Thank you, Kibum.

                 I smiled mockingly as he heaved his final surrender, but truth be told I felt far from being the winner.

 

                 But I know it wasn’t the end, not after I felt the first sign of craving for human soul myself…