Zico only had a few months in our school before he graduated and I was more than relieved that he was leaving for good. People lost their interest in me after Zico left and gradually I was back again to being just the old Choi Junhong that no one bothered themselves with. I was more than happy. The school year had been a horrible mess thanks to someone and I wonder who it was that ruined it.

I finally got a little more space to breathe and less attention on everything I did. School slowly became something I would choose over home because it shielded me from him, at least physically. I started staying out late now that I realized I wouldn't need to face him here where I seeked solace. I filled up my book with my raps even more rapidly in the times spent hiding out in school and rapping became second nature. It was my pen and paper, my voice, my thoughts. My raps started to sound less dark than those that flooded the first half of my book with bad memories. I was happier than I ever was for a long time and I felt just a little carefree for once. I was content as long as I could rap.

But no, I wasn't one to deserve keeping the things I loved. I had only asked to keep something so simple, yet it had to be snatched away yet again by those same pair of brutal, hateful hands. I had enough. 

Home consisted of four walls and consistently flowing raps in silence. Breakfast and dinner was provided accompanied by occasional conversations with my parents, never any with Zico. At least not on my side. So when Zico announced it to my parents, I naturally wasn't part of the conversation to.

I overheard his voice, "Mom, Dad, I've decided that I want to try out at an entertainment company as a artist. I want to rap. I know you won't approve of it straight away and I know the risks of it but I know what I'm doing. I'm really serious about this and this is what I want to do. Is that alright with you?"

I glanced down at the book, forlorn and tattered in my trembling hands, as I sat hunched in the corner of my room. I hadn't heard my parents reply but I heard him utter, "Thank you so much! I won't disappoint the both of you. I will work hard!" 

I stumbled over to the door and locked it with a click. Leaning against the doorframe I slid down onto my knees and processed his words. Then it hit me. It hit me hard. I had had enough of Zico. This was just too much. I couldn't breathe right and I felt my throat constricting. I'd never heard of him rapping so why would he want to start this now? If it was too spite me then job well done you've got me well, you've got me on my knees again. What rights did he have to take away the last shred of hope I had been clinging so hard onto? It wasn't much different from pushing me off a cliff as I hang on with my last ounce of strength. I'd rather he just let me dangle off the edge and fall but there he goes and pushes me down. Down, down, down I went and into that dark abyss I fell. 

I crawled shakily over on my hands and knees to the dustbin by my table and chucked the book I had once poured my heart and soul into away. The words meant nothing more to me. Meaningless things I had wasted my time on. I shouldn't have started it, I shouldn't have held on so tight to it. Then maybe, just maybe it would have hurt less when it got stolen cruelly from me. He had everything I ever wanted, ever needed. Yet he wanted more. I couldn't understand and wouldn't ever understand. So I chose to drown in that confusion.

The sprout of blooming red hatred wilted within that moment and instead branched out with all there was left to enclose my  my heart with spikes and thorns. On that day I closed up my heart, because if I had to lose what I loved than I would rather not love at all.