"You just... scored a 3 pointer so easily... how?"
He gives me a strange look before he smirks. From the short distance between us, he dribbles the ball down towards me, springing up in my hands with a 'v' motion.
"Stand straight." He gets behind...
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As the wells of sorrow within me overflow, the corners of my eyes become the crucible of unbridled anguish, birthing tears of scorching sorrow that defy containment.
It was all coming back.
The memories of my little brother begin to creep up in my mind like silent shadows. Each image, each laugh, each touch feels like a dagger to my already wounded heart. I try to call out, to scream for him, but my voice fails me, lost in the depths of my sorrow. I gasp for air, but it eludes me, as if mocking my futile attempts to hold onto something that is forever gone. The weight of his absence crushes me, suffocating me until I feel like I'm drowning in an ocean of grief.
No, please don't do this to me. God help me.
As the memory of the long lost family member consumes me, my breath becomes limited and it's like i'm taking a hike up an endless mountain. It becomes entwined with the painful recollections of my father's failures. His absence was not just physical; it was a void that echoed with broken promises and shattered dreams. The weight of his neglect and abandonment crashes over me like a relentless wave, dragging me deeper into the abyss of despair.
How could he have left us when we needed him the most?
How could he have turned a blind eye to our cries for help?
The bitterness of betrayal mixes with the raw ache of loss, and I find myself drowning in a sea of unresolved emotions. I was so conflicted. Was I happy he's gone or was I hurt? Was Jungkook the villain or the hero?
The memories of both my brother and my father converge, overwhelming me with their combined force, leaving me gasping for air in a suffocating haze of pain and regret.
"Let it all out." Jungkook rubs my back and whispers. "I'm here for you."
He's definitely the hero.
I use his shirt as a Kleenex for my never ending flow of tears that puts the feeling of a rock in my throat. And I can't help but wonder...Now that my father's dead, where isHaruki?
Who's taking care of him?
For years, I believed I harbored indifference towards my father's absence. Little did I know, it was all a game of pretend and my brain was playing a prank on me. Or maybe, I was the one playing pranks on it. And as the haunting memories resurface, like ghosts from a forsaken past, like ghouls lifting your hairs on a halloween night with their unspoken presence, I find myself ensnared in a labyrinth of emotions I cannot feign or mask.
