stuck [choi yeonjun]

24

°°°

I watch Yeonjun's outline minimising more and more until it fades away into the distance and then bring my attention to the man in front of me, who seems to be watching him go too, more like waiting for Yeonjun to completely disappear so that he himself can return to his very own true self.

"What do you fucking want from me?" I, for the first time, drop the honorific and glare at him. Okay, maybe not for the first time, well....definitely not the first time.

He bursts into laughter, speaking mockingly, "You really be enjoying your worthless life whereas I've to suffer only for you to raise your voice on me."

Perplexity overcome my rage, resulting a confused frown on my face, "What do you mean by you've to suffer for me?"

He chuckles bitterly, almost spating out, "Look at you, so clueless. Should I reveal the dark reality and put an end of your colorful days or should I continue keeping you oblivious. Although, you aren't quite useful to me anymore."

He sneers, noticing my silence, "Don't you want to know why I'm still not doing anything to you? You do know that you are the only thorn left on my way to take all of the property, right?"

This is the question I always carry in me from childhood. Since my lawful parents decreased, I used to be really scared and the loneliness just got heavier as when my parents were with me, at least I felt a little safe. Even though they never felt like home, at least I could convince myself that I had a family, keeping those times aside when I wanted to run away from everything.
At least, there was an ounce of hope alive in the bottom of my heart, enlightening me with the thought of trying harder.
A third voice that died right when they had left the world, would console me, saying
'maybe if you try a little harder, you can make a place for yourself in their hearts.'

I didn't feel pain swallowing me at first, I really didn't feel anything after the loss of my mother. Maybe, because she was never my mother. That's what made me hate myself, made me want to rip my own heart because even after all those scars I was forced to own, she gave me a name and many worldy things one could wish for. Abandonment, despair and hatred I had or perhaps still have somewhere in my soul, are enough to sabotage my own self.

And I guess, living a normal life is not for me.

I suppress my emotions once again, not acknowledging the lump in my throat and the hefty weight starting from my shoulders to chest to stomach. Taking a deep breath to not let my voice crack, I reply sternly, "Tell me. Tell me the reason why you are still not able to murder me already, the reason why I'm breathing."

A devilish grin spreads across his face, sending me chills.
"Are you sure that you ready to know?"

I don't know but I don't care either.
"Shut it and answer me."