"Many abused children cling to the hope that growing up will bring escape and freedom.

But the personality formed in the environment of coercive control is not well adapted to adult life. The survivor is left with fundamental problems in basic trust, autonomy, and initiative. She approaches the task of early adulthood――establishing independence and intimacy――burdened by major impairments in self-care, in cognition and in memory, in identity, and in the capacity to form stable relationships. 

She is still a prisoner of her childhood; attempting to create a new life, she reencounters the trauma."

― Judith Lewis Herman,

*** 

A week ago - The last day of the tour

The last month had undoubtedly been the most intense and unpredictable period of his life, and Kim was still unable to make sense of what had occurred.

He was on the move, carrying out his father's grand plan and handling Wik business without pausing to think twice. He lacked the luxury of time to allow for clear-headed thought. A single thought overwhelmed his senses: he had to be only collateral damage to his father's greed and scheme to gain greater power.

And as a result, he had already accepted that everything he had fought so hard to build was about to collapse and he would be buried under it by the end of the night...

"Wik, you are ready to go in five minutes," the staff informed him.

Each evening on stage, he sang as if it were the last time he'd be able to because if not dead, there was a probability that he could be injured enough to be unable to sing. Every night, he was forced to follow his father's plans. He spent his time away from the stage in a hazy blood-filled tunnel-like vision. His mind was never fully there, so he relied on his decade-long training to lead his senses. It was only when he found himself washing away the red on him after being done that his hands trembled due to the horror he was pushing through. It was only when he would fall on the bed at dawn that his yearning would present itself like his loyal companion. And those yearnings were so in contrast with each other. He yearned to sleep dreamlessly yet he wanted to dream about him, about Porchay ...

Consumed by his need to just see him once more, Kim chased after dreams but always ended up encountering nightmares. To wake up to a new day to repeat what he had done...

His father's stupid plan of coups across the country, an elaborated regime change, a power shift, whatever one may call it, was dragging him to the darkest places, to madness and chaos. Korn Theerapanyakun was a control freak and manic and as his secret weapon, Kim had to achieve whatever was the will of his master. Each day he felt as if he was slipping further and further away. He had been used as a weapon by his father before and it had been bearable. He had been tolerating it for years. But it was different this time around...

His father had excelled himself by threatening him, so bluntly, and now Wik's persona and his music were also mixed in between. It had filled Kim's entire being with rage and violence until he realized there was no running from it. Once he had realized that his father was sending him out one last time for his missions, ready to sacrifice his life to achieve his goals, a strange calmness had settled in Kim, an all-consuming yet cold and calculative calmness. If he was going to die on this mission - and most probably he would - he needed to make sure his brothers had all the cards to get out of their father's claws, or at least realize how sharp they were and not stay trapped in them. He didn't have any hope for Kinn to ever open his eyes to look at the real face of their father. When it came to their father, Kinn always acted like a pigeon that thought if it didn't see the predator, the predator also couldn't see it. Thus, Kim had placed all of his trust in Tankhun, believing that he would understand and, if not take action regarding their father, at least leave the awful compound that had stopped being home after their mother passed away.

Giving Porchey the letter and USB was the first move, the news of his death would be the last. And hopefully, his death would be enough to open Kinn's eyes and force him to do something about their father. Or at least Kim desperately hoped it would be...

But would Kinn be able to deduct that it was their father behind his death? Would he even care to dig? Kim had his doubts, not only his elder brother was blind to their father's evil and selfish nature, but whatever may have been left of his affection for Kim probably died with years of distance and misunderstandings. Or most probably wasn't strong enough to risk angering their father for Kim. 

That thought left him wishing that his brother at least cared enough for him that his loss would chip away and create cracks in his devotion to their father.

However, there was also a chance that Kinn would never learn the cause of his disappearance. The fact remained that Korn was far too sneaky and too good at hiding his imprints, never leaving anything that could be traced back to him. His father had arranged the tour solely to provide him with a perfect cover to visit each location and eliminate his targets without raising any suspicions of his involvement. The ease with which they concealed the massacre at each leg of the trip was a dead giveaway that nothing would be linked back to his family. Perhaps his body would never be found, or identified for that matter. And Khun Korn would win once again due to his meticulous planning...

"Excuse me, hello," a hand waved itself in front of him all of a sudden. 

"I know it's difficult for you, but try to be professional for once. It's the last concert for heaven's sake," the tour manager muttered with an annoyed sigh. 

Any other day, any other time, Kim would have responded to him with the same kind treatment he was subjected to. Yet he couldn't. Wik's name was tainted forever now anyway. Since the day it was announced, people in the music industry were suspicious of him because they couldn't understand how an indie singer like Wik suddenly got to be the concert opener for a commercially successful singer with decades of experience. In the initial days of the tour, on different occasions, he or his team had heard the backbiting and rumor of him having a rich sugar daddy who had made his presence on the tour possible.

Kim couldn't tell them that even though they were right about the daddy part - though definitely not in the way they intended - there was nothing sugar about Korn Theerapanyakun. Never was, never could be...

Very early on in his life, Kim had noticed how his father tried so hard to smile softly with enough wrinkles around his eyes and mouth to conceal the dead coldness that always gave away his true sociopathic nature. He could never be a sugar daddy to anyone as he had the old habit of scaring away or killing his lovers before they could be used against him. The only three people Korn kept alive were his children, and that too to keep his legacy going because no matter how much he would have liked otherwise, he was a mortal being and getting old. And therefore he needed heirs. But it was clear that everyone had been wrong in trusting too much about that fact because while Khun was reduced to what he was now, Kim was about to die for the most ambitious goal of Korn. Kinn remained the only safe one due to him being the perfect heir: capable yet obedient, strong yet naive for still thinking their father could be trusted.

Therefore, no, no matter how much it looked Wik was finally on the path to success for having bagged the role of the concert opener, it was Korn Theerapanyakul who was behind his presence on the tour. Words could not describe the way the music inside him bled every day, growing darker and more tormented as a result of the taunts and mocking remarks about his skill as a musician. Things had only gotten a bit better in the last few stops when the videos of him singing had gone viral. It was bittersweet to finally know what could have happened if he wasn't limited by the rules his father had put on him when he left the compound. 

'It didn't matter anymore,' he told himself as he ascended the stage. 

It was the last day of music anyway, perhaps of his life too.

Singing was his passion, easier than breathing on most days but it felt like a burden these days. He was used to pain of all kinds but nothing yet had felt like death than saying goodbye to music. It was only appropriate for him to sing Porchay's song for the last time as his last song, wasn't it? So even though he hadn't planned it, he sang it, shivering and trembling, his vision hazy, and then said his goodbyes as it was the last stop of the tour.

He most probably was going to die...

Kim didn't know how he had reached the last part of Korn's plan anyway, still surprised at his own ability to escape death. He shouldn't be that surprised, though, as surviving was embedded so deeply within him that he probably would have survived even if he didn't want to. He was, after all, a well-trained weapon, skilled and capable. He had been dragged to the Theerapanyakun gym the week after his mother died to start his training. A decade of training under the strict eyes of his father and his employees who pushed him into different situations to learn how to cope, how to survive, how to make decisions fast, and come out of any fight alive with as little injury as possible to the point Kim was able to leave behind multiple dead bodies on his feet without a single injury. Only a few of his father's people had been allowed to accompany him on the missions. And then came the time when he was no longer required to remain on the ground and was free to leave the compound. Kim refused to pull anyone down with him therefore people who knew about his mission decreased over time. Some believed he was paranoid or arrogant for refusing to rely on anyone, but the truth was that the risk of having someone by his side on the unstable ground was too high. He wanted to concentrate on his targets and not worry about who would report what to his father or whether their casual camaraderie meant they had an ulterior motive to be nice to him...

He was better off alone anyway...

***

"Are you sure about this?" His manager asked, horrified.

"Yes," Kim replied, firm, leaving no room for objections.

"Are you kidding me? You're finally getting there; following this tour, I've been receiving a ton of offers, and you're telling me you want to take an indefinite hiatus?" She huffed with a glare.

P'Achara had been with him from the start, one of the first people Kim had hired after getting out of the compound. She had at first managed his gigs and PR, slipping in the needed roles to make sure Kim was able to get what he needed despite not understanding the rules he had set.

"I have put years of my life into your career, it's not yours alone for you to decide what to do with it, damn it," she yelled, throwing her hands in the air.

And even though he didn't like the way it was yelled, Kim couldn't deny that she had put up with his demands for years even though she didn't understand why he was so secretive about so many things, why every team member and anyone around Kim had to sign NDA and why there were certain public promotions and certain things he refused to do. She had put up with him for years because she had trusted he would be able to pave his own way up to high as an independent musician by relying solely on his talent.

She had been over the moon when Kim had finally told her about the tour, so happy that he was finally doing something remotely commercial that Kim hadn't had the heart to tell her that it would probably be the last thing he would do...

"I have to go now," he muttered and with one last look at his still upset manager, Kim walked away. 

Always on the run, always unable to console the people he hurt... 

Never having the privilege to stick by and tell them the truth...

"We have reached, Khun Kim," Anon informed.

Anon was the only one of his father's people to remain a constant, so much so that by now he could be considered one of Kim's people. And even though Kim worked alone, Anon could be considered Kim's Chan. The only difference between Anon and his father's former now dead right hand was that Anon wasn't as dedicated to the mafia life or to Korn as Chan had been. Newly married and with a functioning brain, Anon knew how to follow orders when told to stay put and had been around Kim enough to know to not cross him or play double agent.

"You know what to do," Kim stated as per their usual routine.

"Stay here, if you come out of there, do what you say. But if not, I have to make sure it can't be traced back to Theerapanyakun," Anon repeated dutifully.

But before Kim could slip away, he was stopped.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Anon asked with a frown.

'The last time I called in for help, the one who went in with me didn't get out of there alive. I don't want to take responsibility for anyone anymore. No more dead bodies on me than I am forced to carry,' Kim wanted to tell, but he didn't. So instead with his eyes fixed on the newly added essential oil diffuser hanging in the car. That must be Anon's wife's doing so he asked Anon how far along his wife was.

"How did you know?" Anon asked, shocked.

"You suddenly stopped using air freshener and replaced it with essential oil that combats morning sickness and nausea," Kim pointed out.

"Of course, you noticed," Anon said with a smile, shaking his head in disbelief. Probably already used to how few things escaped Kim's notice.

"I going in now," Kim told him with a nod.

"I will wait for you. You must come back," Anon insisted.

"I will see what I can do about it," Kim said with a smirk before slipping away.

As he walked towards the guarded vacation home he was told he would find the leader of the Italians, Kim felt the cold numbness slipping into his bones as it usually did when he was about to get more blood on his hands. Every cell of his body was active in combat yet nothing other than actions were registered. It was an out-of-body experience every time. Nothing made him realize the human-embedded instinct to survive more than the moments he spent being his father's weapon. He slipped into that highly active haze that made it easier to function while fighting, breaking, tearing, and ripping...Punching, hitting, knocking off...killing...

Kim slipped down a secret passage of the building without many obstacles. He couldn't help but think about how the detailed blueprint he had been given was. He had studied the vacation home the night before, and whoever was his father's spy, the information about the security and surveillance was precise, which made breaking in an easy task. Kim slowly slipped closer and eliminated each person between him and the target. Moving like a shadow in a house that was already dark, he approached the men on rounds and silenced their screams as his knife cut their throats before moving forward until he snuck into the library, where he knew he would find the boss he was ordered to kill.

"Who sent you?" The Italian boss asked him as soon as he noticed him.

"You are going to die anyway, why would you want to know?" Kim asked, tilting his head.

"If I have to die, I will take you with me," the man spat out as he yelled out the names of the guards.

"No one is coming," Kim informed and moved forward while avoiding the bullets fired by the other man.

Grabbing the man by both his arms, Kim hit his nose with his head and forced the aim of the gun to be up and fired all the bullets on the roof to make sure the weapon was empty. Once done with that, he started attacking more aggressively. Spitting blood the Italian mafioso threw away the gun and tried to gain the upper hand by kicking Kim. Unfortunately for the other man, his father had ensured Kim was good at fighting men no matter how buff and strong they seemed. Just when Kim thought he could pull out one of his knives to get rid of the man, the door opened behind them and in walked someone and suddenly the other man froze, the ongoing struggle coming to a still.

"Papà," a small voice called out.

"Scapa, Fabio...Va' via," the Italian mafioso yelled, panicking as he looked between his son and Kim: the man who came to kill him.

When Kim turned around to take a look, he felt as if someone just dumped freezing cold water on him. There was a child in the room, and the man standing in front of him was a father who was going to be killed in front of his child in the same way his mother had been killed in front of him...

This wasn't supposed to happen...

All of a sudden, Kim was seven years old once again, and the scene from the day he lost his mother was unfolding before his eyes. As the haze evaporated, he became aware of what he was about to do right in front of a child. His hands started trembling and the knife that he was holding slipped away from his hand, falling on the floor was a loud noise that seemed to snap everyone out of their shock.

"Vattene," the man cried out to his child before turning his eyes back to Kim and suddenly his hands were on his throat.

"Ti ho detto di scappare, Fabio," The mafioso roared at his child in frustration as he squeezed Kim's throat.

As Kim gasped for air, he tried to pull the hands on his throat away, his vision darkening as tears slipped from his eyes. There were countless times he had thought that he should have died on that day along with his mother. It wasn't just the guilt of a survivor or a traumatic brain affected by his nightmares or deepest desire, but a very rational deduction made by him when he had realized he would have been better off killed along with his mother than waiting for someone to come save her for hours. That day, he had felt her warm body turning cold between his small arms, a memory that still haunted him. The moment the child entered the room as he was attempting to kill his parent validated Kim's belief that he should have died that day. Had he passed away that day, he would not have been responsible for another child experiencing the same sorrow.

'I am the perpetrator this time,' Kim thought as his world collapsed around him.

But this time a parent shouldn't be killed in front of their child...

He could not let that happen to someone else and therefore, he stopped struggling. His hands fell to his side and he let the man choke him to death...

Before falling into the darkness, his thoughts went to the ones whom he was leaving behind...

He wished Tankhun would be safe and move on...

He wished Kinn would escape their father's claws...

He wished Porchay would be happy...

And his last thought was regret...

I wished I had hugged him one last time...       

****

A/N: I hope you liked the update. Please leave a comment or two to let me know your thoughts on the chapter and the story. 

Thank you for reading... :)

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