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Wooyoung- The shine in the Armour (Open End)

What... The... Hell!?

What on earth was happening?

Your knees gave up on you as you collapsed onto the ragged wooden floor, an elevated piece of chipped wood scraping your knee upon impact. You winced at the sudden pain and you felt a sense of moisture emerge from the wounded area, however; whatever the expression mirroring your current physical pain, was entirely eclipsed by the enormous sense of disbelief that had contorted your facial features.

Your eyelids stretched out, influenced by your widened eyes, your pupils constricted; not for a matter of increased brightness but for the utter terror the situation in front of you had materialized. You felt droplets of sweat forming on your temples, and as they slid down the sides of your cheeks; your hypersensitized temperature receptors perceived their ice-coldness, making an abrupt shiver run down your spine, goosebumps and erect body hair propagating all over you.

You sat across an old man laid on what looked like a dirty, torn futon; he was visibly sick- extremely sick. His skin was alarmingly pale and it felt as if he was barely conscious at that point; the blaring sound of his unrelenting cough echoing throughout the claustrophobic interior; every wall, including the floor and the ceiling made of worn-out wood- to say it was holding up was an overstatement; it could have easily crumbled to the ground by the lightest of winds.

His breathing was slow and dragged out; painful even to the ear, his body laid almost lifeless, his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowed in agony- the only part of him that moved was his lips as they opened and closed in between his wheezing.

You brought your gaze down to your lap; your hands trembling profusely as they trailed the shabby, unwashed long skirt you wore, you lifted the end of the apron that "adorned" your attire as you ran your thumb on the patched, worn fabric- its original colour stained with what looked like charcoal.

Why were you dressed like that? Like some sort of slave or maid?

More importantly, why were you in that run-down miniscule house?

Where exactly were you?

"Yeseul." A stern female voice called out a name that certainly wasn't yours. "What are you doing on the floor?"

You slowly looked up at the woman who had walked up to you; her short curly hair a reddish orange tied up with a haircloth, her attire no different to yours, just as ragged and dirty and as her green eyes stared down at you with inquiry grazed with a sense of annoyance; you felt an awful amount of dread catapulting onto you.

She was talking to you.

"Does it feel liberating watching your good-for-nothing, abusive father at the brink of his death?" She sneered.

Your eyes widened in shock.

Abusive? Father?

"Well, don't feel too relieved." She sighed, tired. "At least, until he's really dead. They say that evil people take the longest to die."

You couldn't even start to comprehend what she was talking about; rather, you felt her words enter one ear and exit from the other.

You stared horrified as you watched the middle-aged woman walk up to the old man's body laid on the futon. She nudged his face with her feet before letting out an exasperated exhale.

"Look at this pathetic bastard. Hanging on to the speckle of life that remains in him like a clingy dog." She mocked as she hovered her foot on top of his face, menacingly close to trampling him. "Why won't you just die, already!?"

You felt your heart thump loudly against your chest; you were terrified.

The older woman brought her feet back down to the floor.