Boys Want to Suicide too.
What Is Love?
1 Year Later....
Kyungsoo's Junior Year
August 1st, 2013
I can feel him roam his hands all over me as I cry out in pain from his penetration and the cold metal digging into my wrists. I can hear myself sobbing and screaming, as he laughs of my discomfort. I can hear my Dad's voice echo in my ears, strings of curses followed by words I wish I never heard. 'Mom's been dead for two hours'. I can feel that pain in my heart I've never felt before, as I screamed at the ground. I can still remember my Mom's pale face when I arrived. I swear, when she died, a piece of me did too. Mom, please come back. Dad and I need you. Mom, we love you, please come back. Mom, we're dying.
"MOM!" I bolt up into a sitting position, my voice howling out as I wake up from my nightmare. Beads of sweat rolls down my forehead as I breathe heavily. I let out a choked sob and I collapse into my pillow, tugging my hair as tears rolls down my cheeks. This is the only word I will ever say. Mom. My fists bang against the bed and I let out another low sob.
"Mom, mom, mom, mom..." you, Kris. But who am I to blame? It was my choice to go to the party. But his actions are unforgivable. A monster, that's what he is. Not my Yifan, but Kris. My Yifan had a stunning smile, and gentle touches. My Yifan would say, 'Hey babe,' every time I would greet him. Yifan loved me. Kris had rough, rushing, and careless hands that would violate my body. Kris would not listen or care what I had to say. Kris wouldn't care if I was hurt. Kris never loved me from the start, our relationship was just a joke. Is Kris and Yifan different people? Or is Yifan actually Kris the whole time? Yifan and Kris are the same people, I was just too blind to see it.
I'm a Junior now, I've managed to pass my sophomore year.
What was I doing with my life those past months? What was I doing at that moment when I could've been with my mom on her dying moments? My mom was diagnosed with cancer, a illness that made her suffer until the day she died. A illness that fed on her life, and then slowly wrecked her body from the inside-out. I let out another pained scream tears dripping down my chin, whipping my pillow across the dark room, letting the darkness consume it.
What kind of son am I? I let a guy seduce me into going to a party. A guy I thought I loved. I gave him my all but in return he gave me something beyond monstrous. My lack of motivation in life made me do nothing but sit at home and cry. I started self-harming addictions as my Dad brought home many women, battling out his depression with lust and , claiming it was 'love'. I don't know what 'love' he's talking anout, because I can't see it. What is love? Women come and go in our house so much. I can hear their moans ringing from these thin walls every night. Dad, you can never replace Mom. But that's alright if you never came to realize it, because I can't believe that Mom is gone either. Mom, I know you'll never forgive us for doing these things. But in return we'll never forgive you for leaving us, and lying to us that you were 'just ill'.
Dad's POV
I drive to her house, it had said on the internet that she just moved to Korea, and she has a slim tan body. I ring her door bell and the tan lady swings open the door, flashing me a seducing smile with her red lips. A tan teen-aged boy peeks over her to see me and he grumbles.
"Don't be so mean to him Jongin, he's driving is to his house...We're coming over to play for a bit," The tan lady her lips and winks at me. "Don't mind my son, Jongin. He's a real trouble maker." Jongin lets out a huff as I led them to the car. We all get in and I drive back to the house. I wonder how Kyungsoo's doing at home....
It's been a year since I lost my wife. But I'm trying my hardest to move on, with other women..
I open the door and I tell them,
"Jongin, you can get comfortable. I have a son your age if you want to hang out with him, it's the first door upstairs. Oh, and the bathroom is upstairs as well."
"We'll be back, okay?" Jongin's mom drawls out as she pulls me out the door. "Bye honey!"
I hear the door open down stairs and I hear my Dad's voice, a lady's, and a teen-aged boy's voice. Then the door closes, everything is silent. But it doesn't bug me.
My body begins to shake as I rack up sobs. My hands tremble, my wrists hungry. My fingers fumble for that cold smooth blade as I let my hand wander under the bed and pull out a small razor. Easy to use, portable. My hands tremble as I rub the razor with my hand, as I stumble to the bathroom filling up the bathtub with warm water. I roll up my sleeves and hungrily look at my wrist. Ripping off the cloth that hides my wrist I look at the many scars from the past times the blade my skin. I rest the blade on the bath tub's edge and I undress myself, getting in the tub and I breathe in and out. Tears flow down my cheeks and mingle with the tub's water. Unable to contain myself, I grab the razor and drag it across my wrist. Letting out a satisfied groan, my body shakes from the pleasuring pain. I draw more lines on my arm with a shaky hand. My arm is the canvas; my razor is my paint brush. I slash lines as blood flows down my arm and mixes with the water, turning the water light red. One cut for me, another for my Dad, four for Mom, five for Yifan. He used to say I was perfect. If he saw me now, will he still say I'm 'perfect'?
The water turns red and I groan from my sick, twisted addiction. It feels so good. I drop the razor out of the tub and put my wrist under water, the blood seething out my wounds, dirtying the water with the crimson liquid. I can feel my face lose colour and my body grow weak. My eye lids give out and my breathing slows down as my heart aches in my last moments. I'm ready.
I'm ready to die. It's too late to go back now.
Don't suicidal sinners go to Hell? I'm sorry Mom, I guess we can't see each other in the after-life. I'm sorry Mom, but I couldn't go on anymore, I hope you'll understand. Love you.
Please give Dad strength to live on.
What I didn't hear is my door open and foot steps in the bathroom. But what I last heard before I out is
Someone letting out a loud piercing scream.
It's too late now.
G o o d - B y e .
Kai's POV
I'm Kai. Or what my Mother calls me, Jongin. I decided to give myself the name 'Kai,' since I thought Jongin was a pretty stupid name. I'm 16 years old, and I just moved from Texas, America. I was born in Korea but ever since my Mother and Father had a divorce, my Mother decided to flip a new leaf and move to America. Which really didn't change anything since we stayed at Texas for like, 3 years and then we moved back. Let me tell you why I'm so pissed of moving in the first place.
1. When we moved to Texas it was unbelievably hot and I thought I was going to die in the heat.
2. When I came there, ALMOST everyone there had a tan. Now don't get me wrong, but I don't necessarily like tans. Milky white and flawless skin is the thing for me. Don't call me racist because I haven't finished myself, so hold your horses, geez. And what does this have to do with anything? Well, I came to Texas (whoop-Dee-ing-doo) with my precious milky white skin, and I came back to Korea with golden brown skin. Now you're here probably laughing at me, but this is so serious. When I arrived at Korea and my Mother and I were walking around in the city, every person that passed me glanced at me twice not once, but ing twice. Now, now, who do you think is the racist one here? As we tried purchasing things as the register, a scanner at the damn place dared to even or at least try, (because to be honest, his English was ing horrible) ask us something in English. I think he asked us, 'You Americas?' But I gave him a look and retorted in English how ing stupid he was. (Aaaactually I said, 'No I was born in Korea.' In Korean, and the old guy apologized) I guess 'there isn't anything to be complain about,'is probably what you're thinking. (To be honest, I know. ) But shut up because then I would be making up reasons for no reason.
Good thing is, I'm so y, people glance at me twice. (You can't defy it. It's true.) Don't call me conceited but I even hear girls looking and whispers amongst themselves. Yes, I'm so stunning for anyone. Actually just for girls. That's the catch, (oh , you caught me!) I don't do s. I more of a guy, you see. Now if you start calling me a queer, I'll make you deep-throat my fist so don't bother. (Maybe not /that/ extreme, but I will kick your so hard, so listen to the guy with abs now)
I'm literally getting nowhere on how I met this poor soul. ANYWAY, we moved into a house and later on the day the door bell rings and my Mother hops like a teen-aged girl as she goes to open the door. I hear a man's voice and curious, I walk over to peek over my Mother's shoulder to take a look at this ,-I mean person and greet them.(what I really meant was to judge the hell out of him) I make a small 'pffft,' with my lips and mumble how horrible he looks. Nothing impressive. My Mother elbows me and she chides,
"Don't be so mean to him Jongin, he's driving is to his house...We're coming over to play for a bit," The tan lady her lips and winks at the man. "Don't mind my son, Jongin. He's a real trouble maker." I roll my eyes as we walk out the house and I make sure to lock and close the door because my Mother literally bounces out of the house, not giving a flying . I shake my head as I get in the back, buckling my seatbelt. (Women are so ing weird)
We later on get to a ing place this man named Mr. Do calls home, and he opens the door. My Mother and I walk in and Mr. Dodo speaks up,
"Jongin, you can get comfortable. I have a son your age if you want to hang out with him, it's the first door upstairs. Oh, and the bathroom is upstairs as well." I raise an eyebrow a guy my age that has a resemblance of this old man? No thanks. I scoff as my Mother basically decides to ditch me at this new environment with a little creep upstairs.
"We'll be back, okay? Bye Honey!" The door shuts and I sigh, swinging my self onto the couch, looking around my environments and I an eyebrow at the kitchen. Wandering into the kitchen, I open the fridge and look. my lips I see fried chicken in the fridge, I go to grab it but then I hear a noise coming from upstairs. Closing the fridge I creep upstairs to investigate and I grab the first door's knob, slowly testing it. Slowly pushing it open I see a light to my left and a bed in the corner of the room. (For such a stupid looking house his room is pretty ing cool. A bathroom in your room? That's cool.) I creep to the bathroom and looks like he forgot to close the door all the way, that dumb. I guess a peek (I meant a BIG PEEK) wouldn't hurt. Pushing open the door, I first look at the boy's face. He has cute facial features and plump lips. But as I look at the whole view, it scarred me for the rest of my life. A pale boy, passed out with a razor on the floor. And the bathtub, oh my ing god, the bathtub is all stained in his blood. As if his bathing in his own blood. What the hell is going on?!
I feel vile raising up my throat as I let out a loud,
blood-curdling scream.
Hi, Kyungjuring here!
Comments, feed back?
All appreciated !~~
Thank you, chingu's~
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