J O O Y E O N

Growing up, I always witnessed my parents fighting. Broken TV, shattered windows, disassembled furniture. The whole house seemed to be filled with post-typhoon debris...proofs of the anger and rage my father keeps and never lets go of.

Back then, I didn't know what I did wrong. I always blamed myself for being the child he never wanted, fully aware that he treated me differently compared to the normal affection any father (but mine) would give to their children. However, it was not just me my father couldn't give love to. My mother suffered more.

flashback (7 years old, 14 years ago)

"Umma! Thank you for the ice cream!" I squealed in delight as the cold treat chilled my tongue.

"Aigoo! Jooyeon-ah, as long as you behave and do well at school Umma will buy you lots and lots of ice cream!" my mother offered as she embraced me tightly.

"Good!"

Through a faint smile, my mother whispered, "Let's hurry home okay?"

My mother was feeling the same way as me as she trembled in fear of what is awaiting us at home.

"We don't have to go home so soon, right?" I asked.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. But you know we have to," she said while drawing circles on my back with the palm of her hand, gently easing away my innocent worries.

As soon as we returned, we sighed together. My mother let go of my hand as she examined the further damage my father made to our home. 

"Eunyoung! Joo Eunyoung!" my father stumbled down the stairs drowning himself in alcohol. 

"Hakyeon..." she softly murmured as she bowed her head.

"Umma--"

My father's cold stare pierced my heart and I decided to shut up. My mother sent me a look of reassurance saying that everything will be okay and that perhaps this isn't a good time to stay and watch. I quickly hurry to my shabby room I share with Umma and leave the door slightly open to hear and overlook the conversation. 

"You shouldn't be drinking," my mother weakly mumbles. She attempts to calmly take the bottle away when she feels a sharp sting run across her cheek. 
Don't get me wrong, my father is a physically strong man and with that one blow, my mother is knocked to the ground. I watch in agony as my mother feebly crawls back up, trying hard to remain standing.

", don't tell me what I can and cannot do," he sternly says before taking another swig of alcohol. "You know perfectly why I'm drinking. Don't act stupid and don't make me mention it."

"I really don't kn--"

"Let's not talk about it."

"Is it because Seohyun and you are fighting again?" she slipped as curiosity overcame her, regret rushing through immediately.

"Don't talk about it!" he screeched, grabbing her by the collar and off the ground. "Say it one more time and these hands go to your neck!"

This time my mother's tears had been released as her cheeks only got more soaked and drenched in her misery. My father, this time, saw her teardrops clearly and after a while of silently and telepathically pleading for forgiveness, he ruthlessly dropped her. He dragged his feet back to his luxurious room, chugging down more of the alcoholic concoction the more he went.

As soon as he left my mother there alone, she trudged over to our room, immediately falling to her knees in weakness. She broke down in tears as I neared her. I said nothing but wrapped my arms around her fragile body as she returned the embrace, my hair at it. All I heard was the heartaching sound of my mother sobbing. We stayed there, hoping the sun would rise while still being there with each other.

And when my mother's weeping was no more and the sun was up and ready, I asked if she wanted to run away with me. Just the two of us making our own living together.

She refused. She said it was her duty to take care of the man she loves and will never forget. Leaving would break her purpose in llife.

Anyone sane knows my mother loves my father very much. 

A little  too much.