Sin ||KookV||

29

My hyung grabbed the strip desk lamp and yanked the plug out, hitting me with the lamp. His right hand pinned my two wrists down like iron pincers as he forcefully hit my butt, legs and back. Every strike he landed was as heavy as lead and my hyung's crazed shouting was right by my ear.

"You live just to fucking piss me off to death right, little cunt ass bastard? What are you thinking about in that head of yours each day? You're eighteen already, your rebellious phase should be over already, no? Have you ever done anything humane?"

"Fucking cunt, there was a full house of conglomerate directors at last night's meeting. Once I took a call, I set off running; how do you think those bosses thought of your hyung? If I lose my livelihood, what damn kind of house can you live in? What damn kind of school can you go to? JUST GO AND SLEEP IN THE FUCKING STREETS!"

"There's me here to deal with Dad; fuck has it got to do with you whelp? You eat your fill and lose your senses, not studying either, rushing off to that person's house. You've lived enough already, is that it? If it hadn't been for your classmate giving me a call, what were you planning to do? That hot water all over your body can scald you to death, did you know that?"

"You want to die, don't you? Your hyung getting scalded this time in your place isn't enough, right? Are you sick? Are you sick? Today you couldn't strangle yourself to death, so tomorrow you'll slit your wrists, and the day after that you'll jump off the roof. If you're gone, you're letting me live by myself?!"

"You're just a scoundrel, Hyung has raised you for nothing. If I got a chicken to give birth to a kid and teach it, it'd still be better than you."

He stood up and violently stamped on my stomach. I was in so much pain that I arched forward and curled up. I imagined throwing up blood like how they did it in shows, but I didn't. Acute pain as concentrated as raindrops drowned me whole. I rolled about on the floor, struggling to escape, but my hyung still didn't stop. He wanted to beat me to death.

When cornered, a dog would always jump out over the wall. I exerted all my strength to push his hands away, then flipped over and stepped on his shoulders. My hyung staggered back two steps and I took advantage of this to throw myself at him, knocking him over and entangling with him.

The things people said in a fit of anger were too hurtful. I finally understood what my hyung had felt when I said 'you have violent tendencies, you've inherited it from Dad' -- it was like my heart had been frozen stiff, then smashed into pieces by a hammer.

When he had hit me just now, the burnt skin on his left hand had gotten rubbed and broken again, pus and blood mixing together and trickling down to his elbow. It definitely hurt a lot.

I couldn't bear to hit him. I only wanted to kiss him and, like a dog, lick his injury-leaking pus and blood clean.

I knelt on his hip bone, gazing down at him. Today, my hyung looked too haggard, as degraded as the two bouquets of roses that had gone mouldy as I had secretly hidden them under the bed. But he was still as beautiful as before.

My legs were still trembling, but I had to grow up. I wanted to pretend to be like a man, but unexpectedly, when the words left my mouth, they were still feeble.

"Am I not precisely sick?" I asked him seriously, "You often bring me to Namjoon hyung's house; isn't he a psychiatrist? Do I really have a mental disorder?"

My hyung lay on the ground, stiffly lifting the corner of his lips, "Taehyung, no one has ever seen you as a sick person."

It wasn't important if I had an illness or not; I didn't actually care about that. What I cared about most was whether my hyung was still willing to date me.