So,

I ran away from home. Made the mistake of getting between my parents while they were fighting, found out my dad got fired. That explains his recent actions but does not explain why he punched me in the face. I grabbed the first things I could get my hand on, stuffed them in my bag and got the Hell out of there, despite my mother’s pleads to stay and my father’s wailing voice begging for forgiveness.

I can take a lot of from the world, but the moment my own father raises his hand against me, I no longer have faith him.

I had nowhere to go. No friends, no other family, no nothing, so, normally, I headed to Taemin’s place. I’m not sure if I cried or if it rained, or running like someone’s been chasing me through the woods got me all soaked, but by the time I got in front of his home, I was drenched in sweat and tears and Hell knows what else. I’m amazed nothing bad happened because, really, who wouldn’t want to stop this kid that looks like he saw a murder scene?

My knuckles burst and the side of my fist turned red the more I banged into the door, crying out for Taemin to open. When he finally did, I almost knocked him on the floor and I’m not sure what scared him first, my ruined face or the fact that I appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

He hurried me upstairs, got me in the bathroom and while I trembled and hiccupped, calming down, he took care of my wounds and borrowed me some clothes. He left me alone to change and I spent some 5 more minutes crying because it, man, is this how you felt?

I mean, until then, I probably never understood you, but in that moment, with, let’s face it, just a scratch on my cheek, I finally got to. How hard have you suffered all this time? How hard was it for you to wake up and come to school and smile at everyone? How hard was it to keep everything inside?

I felt so sorry. Not for m