Beautiful Pain

Hunger Pains

At five years old, HoSeok stared down at his lunch. It was a Lunchables pizza; his favorite. His stomach growled hungrily, but something kept him from touching it. Whether it was the fact that at last week's tutoring session Mister Ashben had said he was getting rather large, or if it were because the said man decided to stand in the corner of the cafeteria and watch him eat HoSeok didn't know.

HoSeok was beginning to dislike the game he and Mister Ashben had begun playing. He disliked that he could not use the potty alone. Mister Ashben said that his mommy and daddy didn't think he could go by himself yet. He wasn't a big boy yet. That upset HoSeok, because he was a big kid and he could go potty all by himself.

"Can I have your pizza, Hobi?" A soft voice asked. It was NamJoon, HoSeok's best friend. HoSeok looked at the boy, already smiling. NamJoon was a lanky boy, with big round glasses that made his eyes seem much larger than they should. He had a dinosaur sweatshirt on that matched his new light up shoes. Some said that NamJoon was a dorky kid, with odd proportions and feet too large for his body, but HoSeok thought he was great. Hobi nodded, handing NamJoon the pizza from his lunch box. He would just eat his grapes instead.

The young boy was glad to give his food to his friend. After all, it was his job to make others happy. No matter the circumstances. If HoSeok could make someone else happy, he was doing good. Did his tummy still growl when he was done with lunch? Yes. But was his tummy more important than NamJoon's? No. So Hobi sighed and listened to NamJoon speak, eating his grapes slowly in an attempt to trick his tummy into feeling full. NamJoon talked about some dinosaur, rattling off facts about it like he was a paleontologist. HoSeok was only half listening, his mind wandering far and wide.

"It did, too!" NamJoon cried out, fixing his glasses. "And I'm not weird! I just like dinosaurs!" HoSeok smiles, eating another grape. He was happy. Maybe he was a little hungry, and maybe sometimes the games he played made his tummy and head hurt, but he was happy. He was happy because those around him were happy. That was good enough.

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HoSeok sat at Mister Ashben's table, squirming around uncomfortably as he wrote his name. He had to go potty. He no longer wanted to ask Mister Ashben for potty time, and would instead try to hold it until he could no longer. So the young boy decided to wiggle in his chair, and desperately tries not to pee his pants.

But, a five year old boy can only hold his bladder so long and HoSeok had hit his limit. The little boy whined, too scared to move from the chair. Worst of all, he was embarrassed for having an accident. This did not go unnoticed by Mister Ashben, and the man squared beside the little boy. His eyes had grown cold when he was around Hobi. Dark and dangerous like murky waters.

"Did you have an accident, HoSeok?" The man asked. HoSeok sniffled before nodding his head. Mistee Ashben sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. HoSeok began to cry.

"HoSeokie, do you know why we play these games? Why your mommy and daddy want you to get tutored? Why you have to have help going potty?" Mister Ashben moved closer to the crying boy, a vicious type of look in his eyes. HoSeok shook his head, sniffling.

"We play these games because you are a stupid boy, HoSeok." The words came out sharp, and HoSeok's bottom lip protruded further. "You are stupid and so you do not cry anymore, understand me?" Mister Ashben groans, smacking the boy across the face. Not harshly, just enough to make him stop crying.

"Say it, HoSeok. Say that you're a stupid little boy." Mister Ashben demanded.

"I'm a stupid boy." HoSeok said softly, starting to cry again.

"HoSeokie, we play these games to make you smart and a big boy." Mister Ashben took his small hand in his own. "You have to be a big boy, okay? Let's go potty."

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"Here, HoSeok." Mister Ashben said, handing the boy a drink. HoSeok smiled, swinging his feet beneath the table. He took a drink, wiping away the juice mustache it gave him. Ten minutes later, the little boy was rubbing his eyes and yawning widely.

"Mister Ashben?" HoSeok yawned again, his eyes feeling heavy. "I feel sleepy." The teacher smiled, taking HoSeok's hand.

"Let's go lay down, okay, HoSeokie?" The little boy was asleep before he touched the bed.

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"Why?" His mother crossed her arms as the young boy stomped his feet in the living room. He screamed, throwing his book bag down to the ground.

"I don't wanna go to tutoring!" HoSeok shouted. His sister stared at him from beside their mother. His mother was dressed in her work clothes; she quickly glanced at the clock. "I don't like Mister Ashben!"

"Mister Ashben is nice, HoSeok." His mother spoke, her words slipping into natural Korean dialect. "He is trying to help you."

"No!" HoSeok stomps his little feet, getting ready to throw a full tantrum. He was going to fight. He had to make his mother understand what was happening. Of course, he didn't know the words molestation of sexual abuse. He was far too little to know these things; too little to know more than he didn't like it. And just as he didn't know how to express what he was feeling, his mother would never know what Mister Ashben's intentions with her son truly were. Neither she nor HoSeok's father had become even remotely close to fluent in English yet. Because of their disadvantage in the language, they had made their son a target. Whether or not it was deserved or immoral, regardless of this family's intentions: HoSeok was wearing a sign. A large sign that read Easy To Use.

HoSeok cried when his mother smacked his butt, not having enough time in her day to listen to the boy's tantrum. She had to work, and she had to work hard. There are no late starts, no call offs, no sick days, no room for mistakes as a working immigrant. So she spanked HoSeok's butt, and drug him behind her to the car. In her own mind, this was for the best. He had to get an education and she had to work. If either of these fell through, the family would fail.

Had she been able to understand the sobs of her child in his car seat- had he spoken clearly enough- had he been able to calm down enough to say more than "I don't like Mister Ashben" it would have been different. If she had understood, or even had the chance to get the fainting glimpse of an idea from her son... there would have been a murder.

Instead, later that day, HoSeok once again wet himself at Mister Ashben's. Instead, HoSeok's little mind gave him a deadly message. That despite his best efforts. Despite his attempts at telling his Mom. She didn't care. She didn't care what Mister Ashben was doing, and at the young age of five. HoSeok learned a heartbreaking lesson. He learned to stop fighting.