At the crossroads, I'm making a choice
To be or not to be
One, or maybe two?
That's how many seconds it was, I think, before the bile rising up my throat became overwhelming and I retched my guts out.
It was just too much on all of my senses. The sight of the pencil sticking out of his eye, the sound of pain he'd uttered which was still ringing in my ears; the odor of blood, the taste of vomit in my mouth; and the snake-like drops of that life-giving liquid, which I could still feel on my hand and wrist. It was all too much.
I killed.
I killed.
Killed.
Killed.
The word repeated itself inside my head, like a curse, a jinx.
Once the throwing up stopped, dizziness took over. I couldn't think straight. My core gave up, but thankfully there was a wall right behind me to support my back.
Killed. . . .
Letting my head droop, I shut my eyelids tight, trying to block out the voice, pleading it to go away, but it didn't. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw were my hands.
And the blood on them.
They were pressed up against my torso, and the liquid on them had soaked into the sweatshirt I was wearing beneath my unzipped jacket, crimson vivid against white.
I, killed.
I had blood on my hands.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I-I'm sorry. . . ."
But of course, there was no response.
I rubbed my hands vigorously against my shirt, trying to get the blood off. There wasn't much, I'd moved back before it could drip any further than my wrist, so the fabric easily absorbed it and before long, my hands were almost clean of it.
Only in the literal sense.
The white of my shirt was now tainted in ruby smudges. I couldn't bear seeing any more of it on myself, so I immediately zipped up my jacket with jittery fingers. Eyes heavy with unshed tears, my lips started trembling as I tried to keep my face from crumpling into sobs. I wanted to close my eyes and cry and cry till this nightmare ended so that when I opened them, everything would be like it was before all this. But before I could, I saw something. The pool of red, still spreading, was about to reach the tips of my sneakers.
Spontaneity spread from my chest throughout my body and I got up instantly, jumping away from the seemingly endless crimson puddle. My eyes avoided the boy, and hence landed on my school stuff. I quickly picked up my bag, and then my textbook and for a moment, I was almost looking for the pencil.
I tried not to recall where it was sticking out of.
What do I do now?
No idea, I had none. Was there anything I could even do to make things right? I didn't think so. I just killed a guy. I just single-handedly ended a life. This boy wouldn't grow, wouldn't see another sunrise, wouldn't find love and make a family, or pursue his dreams. I just ruined his parents' and friends' lives. I-
I just wanted to run away from it all. So that's what I did. I ran. Without thinking, I ran.
I didn't know where I was going, I just wanted to be away from what I'd done, the irrevocable, unforgivable sin I'd just committed. So I just kept going, going till I turned a corner and ran into something.
No, someone.
Out of breath, I stepped back, taking a second to register the face.
He said nothing, just produced a small plastic water bottle out of nowhere before holding it out, expecting me to take it, so I did, rinsing my mouth of the vomit before gulping it down. Questions were racing in my mind like a hurricane. Just when I was about to speak, he held out something else; a tissue. I took it and used it to clean the remnants of blood on my hands, and once again, when I was about to say something, he held up something; this time, the photograph I'd forgotten to pick. My lips parted in slight surprise before I took it between my thumb and index finger and pocketed it. I opened my mouth once more, and he held up another object- a lighter. Not knowing its purpose, I just stood there like a fool till he rolled his eyes, snatched the tissue from me, and burnt it up. I stared at the flame till he let go of the paper and it disappeared into thin air.
"Shoot your questions."
I looked up at Changkyun. One of his perfect brows was lifted in a demanding manner, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
I wanted to cry in this moment. Shockingly, I wanted him to tell me that it was okay, that it will be okay, that me killing someone wasn't okay but yet, it'll be okay.
He didn't.
"I . . ." Clenching my fists, I swallowed the lump inside my throat, forcing my mind to work logically and pinpoint one of the many questions in it. What just happened? Who was that guy? Why did he attack me? What'll be the consequences of what I just did? Will I go to jail?
Pick one, I told myself.
"Who was he?"
"He was the candidate who was assigned to kill you," he said, which raised more questions.
"Th-there are candidates other than me?" I asked, baffled.
He looked unimpressed. "You thought there was only you?"
My mouth fell open.
"There are more. Every member of the clan residing in Seoul has to try and get one candidate each, and you're mine," he spoke. "Part of the Initiation Ritual, remember? Part of."
So this was how the Blood Season had already begun. This was big, much bigger than I'd thought. "There are people out there who are after my life."
It was a statement, not a question.
"Technically, the person you were assigned to is dead, so as of now, no one's after your life."
A tight feeling struck my chest when he said the word dead.
Dead, because of me. . . .
"Each candidate is assigned some other candidate as target, like you're assigned the boy whose picture you have," he continued.
Suddenly, I remembered the flash of light in my face a few nights ago when Changkyun had made an appearance to tell me why Taeyong let us go. He was even looking into his phone afterward. . . .
And then I knew that that was when he'd taken my picture.
"It's a complex circle, and the two who survive in the end fight each other to death under the supervision of their recruiters. The one who kills the other becomes an active member of the family."
So that's what it was. A sick Hunger Games within the unknowing, naive cities. That's what the Blood Season was.
"Usually we let the dead bodies be, it's a good cover. Police, public and media all remain busy with the Blood Season, so all other underground activities go by smoothly." He exhaled. "But I'll have to let this one pass as a missing person case, because you've left too many clues for the police. It's me who'll have to clean up your mess. Be careful next time."
My stomach churned at his words. How could anyone talk about this so casually?
Changkyun smiled for the first time this night, a knowing, almost nostalgic smile, but it was gone as swiftly as it came. "Better get used to killing people, y'know. We've all went through this and it's gonna be a long ass ride. Or a short one, if you die early."
My brows pulled together, eyes burning with tears, lips quivering. Nothing would be like it was before, would it? This was irreversible. I couldn't climb out of this pit anymore, it was too late.
"Here come the water works," Changkyun muttered. "I'mma go now, tuck your hood in, it's ripped. And remember to burn your sweatshirt and preferably the jacket, too."
He got moving, was just about to walk past me, when he stopped all of a sudden. "Oh, almost forgot." The man fished into his pocket, and then drew out something that, when I saw, made the bile rise up all over again.
He held out the bloody pencil, but I made no move to take it. I just stared at it with wide eyes, quite positive that I was shaking by now.
He actually took it out of that boy's eye.
Since I didn't receive it, he reached out and placed it in my chest pocket, patting it before saying, "Better keep it as a souvenir."
And then he left.
—
I don't know how I made it to the orphanage after that, how I made it to school the next morning, how I made it to anywhere or anytime further in my miserable life after what happened that night.
Everywhere I went, I couldn't help but see myself almost as an anomaly. A red stick figure among all other white ones. Different from everyone, a person tainted with blood, while everyone else was pure, untainted, innocent.
I was no longer innocent.
Anything I did, I couldn't help but worry that I'll hurt, or worse, kill someone. For probably the first time ever, I hesitated before placing my arm across Jeongyeon's shoulders.
What if I harmed her? I wouldn't harm her, would I?
Finally, I did rest my arm on her, gentler than usual.
What would she think of me if I told her that I killed someone? Would she be disgusted? Worse yet, would she be scared of me? Would she report me? I didn't have any idea. I felt a bit less closer to her. It was as if by committing that sin, I had built walls around myself that separated me from everyone, and she was no exception. How was I supposed to pretend that nothing was wrong? Everything was going so, so wrong.
"What's the job status?" she asked as usual.
I gulped discreetly before opening my mouth. "Employed, but still looking for another job," I lied.
She sighed. "Found someplace to live at?"
"No. . . ."
She draped her arm over my shoulders. "My doors are always open for you."
I gave her a pointed look. "You don't have doors. They're your father's doors, so I'll pass."
"Ouch, thanks for reminding me that I'm as broke and homeless as you," she grumbled.
"You're most welcome, ma'am."
—
"I enrolled you for a competition coming up, Taehyung," Mr. Jung told me. "We better start preparing."
What was it with people, enrolling me for things without my permission?
"Why did you enrol me . . . ?" I mumbled, mostly to myself, because I knew that whatever his reason was, he wouldn't cancel my enrollment no matter what.
"Because we're going to perform our usual routine- with a few modifications- and you're a part of it," the man answered. "Don't worry, you're good at it. We just need to practice more and perfect it." I must be looking hesitant still, because then he added, "The price money's pretty fat."
"I'm in," I said, almost needily, and immediately felt guilty. "I-I mean-"
"Hey, it's okay to want money. It doesn't always make you greedy."
I avoided eye contact as I nodded. "Thank you, sir."
He threw his hands up in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you? Hoseok hyung is fine, 'sir' or 'Mr. Jung' makes me feel like a boomer."
"Sorry, sir," I said before realising, but didn't make any amends.
He rolled his eyes. "We're gonna work on that too," he said. "Anyways, what do you need the money for?"
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other nervously. "I need to find somewhere to live," I spoke quietly. "There's less than a month left before I come of age."
"Oh." His voice had sympathy in it, and I hated it. It wasn't as if he would do anything about it. Why sympathize if you can't help?
"If . . . if you want somewhere to stay . . ."
I couldn't believe my ears. He was actually willing to let me, a killer- my insides twisted like everytime they did when I remembered it- stay in his house? Was he out of his mind? He seemed so alert all the time otherwise, did he really trust me that much?
He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.
He bit his lip, contemplating.
"It's okay, I don't want to burden you by staying at your place," I said. "I'll find somewhere."
"No, I was thinking . . . maybe you can stay here?"
"Here?" I asked, a bit surprised, and embarrassed that I assumed on my own accord that he was going to let me stay at his place.
"Yeah, here," he said, seeming to be unaffected by my misunderstanding. "You can sleep in the Practice Room, bathe at the showers, eat out. I'll give you the keys."
"Really?"
He shrugged. "I mean, I understand if it's not convenient for you-"
"No, no! It's perfect," I said immediately. "It's something, at least. Better than nothing at all. I don't have much possessions anyway, I can move here on the 30th."
"Splendid," he smiled. "Happy I could help."
—
As time passed, I started feeling guilty for not feeling guilty as often as I should. It was weird. Life was forcing me to move forward, but all I wanted to do was reverse the time and undo all my mistakes. That I couldn't, so what was I supposed to do now? Kill myself to make us even? I couldn't do that, I couldn't leave Jeongyeon alone in this world with that monster of her father. Was it possible for me to redeem myself somehow?
I didn't think so.
It was one of those times when I forgot about not only my current problems, but about all of them altogether. A.k.a. my time with Jeongyeon.
"Read it out, c'mon!"
"I don't know what it says!" I exclaimed. "You know I'm not good at English!"
"Try, at least!"
I huffed before looking down into our English textbook. "Kuh-now-led-gay?"
There was a total of one second before Jeongyeon lost it and started laughing hysterically.
"Hey, I told you I don't know!" I yammered.
"It's called knowledge," she uttered between her laughs. "My goodness, you're so cute!"
"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" I said. "You knew I would fail ridiculously. Ugh, I hate English."
"English doesn't seem to like you either," Jeongyeon patted my head. I totally agreed.
A sigh left my lips. "If I knew English well enough, it would've been one reason less for people to pick on me," I said. "I swear, English ain't a language no more, it's a caste. This society is so casteist."
"I know that. . . ." she murmured.
"You know what else could be one reason less for me being a loser? Me not having facial hair. You had to make me shave."
"Hey, you look nicer this way!" she protested.
"I look like a child! I look meek and small and less manly," I replied. "I would've looked less like a loser and more like a stud if I had hair on my face."
"Hey, don't ever say that," Jeongyeon said. "You look beautiful."
"What am I to you, a doll?" I demanded.
"Definitely," she answered. "You're my one and only damsel in distress."
"I-"
—
Where are you, Jeongyeon?
My mind called out for her as I regained my breath. They never hit me on the face, no. What if it left marks and the staff saw it? That couldn't be afforded. It was okay, though. They didn't hit seriously hard. Or I don't know, maybe I just had a strong body.
My eyes rested on the grass of the deserted backyard. They had left, but the pain they'd inflicted remained.
A burden. I know that.
That's what I'd wanted to scream at them. For the first time in my life, I'd wanted to respond to their taunts. I'd wanted to shout at them, on the top of my lungs, that I know, I know, I FUCKING KNOW!
Damn, I was tired of this shit.
But now they were gone, and I was alone with my thoughts.
So life contemplation it is.
Life sucked. Absolutely wouldn't mind dying. But that was the thing, I would mind dying, because of Jeongyeon. She was my only anchor to this world. But now that I was a killer, a sinner, an aberration, I felt somewhat distant from her, because she wasn't all of that. She didn't know how it felt. I hated realising and admitting it, but the murder- I shut my eyes tight as my chest constricted- I'd committed had started to somewhat rust my anchor.
"Better get used to killing people, y'know."
Could I continue to do this? To kill people, end lives, spill blood? All of it, for what? Becoming part of some family I didn't even want? Could I keep moving forward like this? Could I keep rusting my anchor?
I didn't want to rust my anchor.
But it wasn't a question of what I wanted anymore. That's just not in the cards any longer, if it ever was before. It was a game of survival now, and I had to make a choice between surviving at a huge cost or dying at the hands of Im Changkyun, or possibly one of the other candidates. It was kill or get killed. Both options involved me giving up something enormous. So what was I willing to let go of, and what was I willing to keep? What was more precious to me? My life, or my sanity?
There could be a life without sanity. But there couldn't be sanity without life.
I wanted to live. But I didn't want to kill.
But wait, what if I brought the Lee Taeyong factor into this equation? He was after my life for sure. Mine and Jeongyeon's. If I was a part of some crime family that was against Taeyong, he'd be pissed, yes, but would he be able to harm me any more than he could if I wasn't part of that family?
In fact, if I thought about it now, his chances of harming me would be lesser if I was part of this anti-Taeyong clan. Because it's a family, right? And family members watch each others' backs? Even if that wasn't the case, I'd be more powerful if I was part of this family, right? Then I'd be able to protect myself. It still didn't sound very appealing to me, but the more important thing was, I'd be able to protect not only myself, but also Jeongyeon. And not just from Taeyong, but from her own father as well. My anchor would become rusted, sure, but it would still be special to me, and I would still want to protect and cherish it. Maybe I would have to stay away from her, to make sure my future enemies didn't use her against me, but I would be able to protect her from the shadows. I would finally be able to return her favour.
I wanted that, I realised. If Jeongyeon could be even a tiny bit safer than she was now, I was ready to sacrifice my sanity for it. I was ready to kill- my body went rigid as I endured that same tight knotting inside my stomach- if it was for Jeongyeon.
I was ready.
—
"Ready?"
"No."
"Taehyung!"
"Okay, okay. . . ."
I swallowed, imagining energy flowing through my feet, up my bent knees and into my thighs, accumulating in my core.
"Give it your all," Mr. Jung said.
"I won't be able to do it," I told him my prediction.
"Taehyung! Don't lose hope before you even try!"
I looked up at Wooyoung, who was down on his hands and knees; I had to jump over him, which wasn't much of a problem, but I had to jump over him from a distance too far, and that made it almost impossible for me. But I exhaled and expelled all thoughts along with the air, and braced myself. "Okay."
"Ready," he spoke, "set, go!"
I strode three steps, then took a leap. And the moment I did, I knew it was about half a meter short. I landed directly on Wooyoung, who let out a surprised grunt as his body collided with the floor, me on top of him. I got off him immediately, my cheeks feeling hot and head bent with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry. . . ."
"You're not hurt, are you?" Both of us said simultaneously. I shook my head no, everything felt okay. He held up a thumbs-up before saying, "I'm fine, too."
Mr. Jung approached us and offered us either of his hands as support to get up. "We're gonna have to work on that."
"Yeah, we do," Wooyoung said, getting on his feet. "I'm fine now, but I definitely won't be fine if this keeps happening."
"Maybe we can make Taehyung practice just long jumps without Wooyoung in the path first," Hyunggu suggested.
Jung Hoseok nodded at him. "We'll have to do that." Then he looked at me. "Better be prepared, we're gonna have to muscle up your legs, Taehyung."