Seokjin

It's quiet here as usual. This place, it feels like a sanctuary of some sort.

Dead bodies resting, oblivious to everything around them. This graveyard was a family heirloom, gifting itself to my family generation to generation. Members of the Kim household—my dear family rested here, oblivious and tortured. I always felt peace here, knowing it would feel right.

The place where I stand was wet earth, the mud squelching under my boots. A few crushed stubs of my cigarettes are thrown without any particular order. I was smoking before I came here but couldn't find myself to stop, just because I should.

I stood silently, thinking and thinking. Seconds passed. They slowly turned to minutes and then to hours. My long coat was lightly swaying in the breeze and my hair was softly caressing my eyebrows The light drizzling kept me drenched, my eyelashes feeling heavy under the weight of the raindrops nestled on them.

The grave in front of me was unique. Yellow marbled stone, polished and cleaned. A huge wreath of lilies adorned the whole structure. It was beautiful.

Just like my mother.

I don't remember how long I stood here, watching, waiting.. admiring.

My mother was extraordinary. A ravishing kind of beauty. She knew she had everyone wrapped around her little finger, everyone at her beck and call. A silent voice she was. She hid every weakness, every sorrow and projected a strong superiority to anyone who came across her. It was evident that she was a force to be reckoned with. I heard her stories once—the one which showed her real self. Fierce, strong and passionate. These were her main qualities. She never loved less. It was an insult to her.

Full of life and brimming with vigour, my mother was a vision. She was unbeatable. Then misfortune struck her—she married my father.

After that, it went downhill.

Constant shouting, curses spewed back and forth, shaming, insulting each other. My parents found their favorite pastime the moment they were betrothed to each other. Sometimes, I used to wonder how and when they tolerated each other and had mellowed down to fuck and have me. Beats me.

I was seven when the beatings began. Mom wasn't home that day and the house help were off duty. I was in my room, playing Mario and having ramen when I heard the dull thud of heavy boots making its way to my room.  I knew it was my father. He slowly opened the door and hobbled inside, clearly drunk.

He saw me sitting on the floor and made his way to my bed. After sitting on it unceremoniously, he summoned me with his forefinger. Even at such a small age, I understood the deranged look in his eyes. He was nowhere near to being affectionate. He came to my room with a purpose and I soon got to find that out.

After slowly making my way towards him with a slight shake in my legs, I stood in front of him.

He looked at me for a second. Before I could process anything, he grabbed my collar and pulled me close to his face. His breath reeked of smoke and alcohol. I had a strong urge to gag but I held it in.

"You should have died that day, boy."

There was no mistaking the hatred in his voice. I knew what he meant. I always doubted my father's affection towards me. He would pat me on my head, or sometimes my back, when we were in public but he never bothered to smile at me. Never. That was one of the many reasons my parents fought over and the only reason I used to cry in my room in the dark.

I knew he hated me and wanted me dead but hearing that coming from his mouth really hurt me. I could distinctly remember the intense pain I felt in my chest when his alcohol riddled breath flew across my face, uttering those words. The first hard slap I had after that felt nothing to that clench I felt in my heart then. It was really pathetic.

I remember being hit several times after that but I was numb by that point. Words really did break my bones then, I guess. 

I don't remember when it stopped. Was it before I heard my mother's scream? Or after? Or after she hit him with my baseball bat? Or before? I really didn't remember.

But I remembered my mother's delicate hands on my face and her sobs filling my room. Strange. It was only her voice. I wasn't the one crying.

"I'm sorry, Jin. I'm so sorry."

She apologised. But for what? She didn't do anything. It was him. He hit me. He hurt me. But I was weak and small. I couldn't do anything.

It was fine after that day. The real hell broke loose after three days. My father started fucking around. In his office. In our house. Sometimes in hotels. It was always discreet. 

But one day, I heard him. Well, my mother and I heard him. It was when we were back from my school. I was ranked first and my mother came to celebrate it with me. I knew my father wouldn't come. I was fine with it. We made our way to the kitchen when we heard a loud scream from there.

Naturally, we panicked and made a run for it. I was eight then.

That was my first time watching someone have sex and that too, with wild reckless abandon. My father was getting on with it, pushing himself into our maid's pussy from behind, both of them oblivious to our presence. I was repulsed and disgusted.

I really felt sorry for my mother. It was then that I remembered my mother. She was beside me. She would be devastated. No.

I turned my head towards her and was genuinely surprised. Instead of being sad or even shocked, she was standing there with a smirk on her face. Her eyes projected a kind of victory. I was dumbfounded.

The moving bodies on the kitchen counter did not notice us yet. My mother turned to look at me and gave me a small smile. She must have understood my expression. She slowly put her finger on her lips and urged me to be quiet. Then she took hold of my hand and left the kitchen with a slight jump in her steps.

She was happy.

After we reached my room, she closed the door behind us and made me sit on her lap while she sat on the loveseat in the corner of my room.

"What you just saw was not right, Jin. But it was everything to mama." Her eyes held a promise. I was yet to figure it out.

"But mom.."

"Sshhh.." she put her finger on my lips and smiled at me. "When you grow up, you'll know. You'll even think bad of me then. But I know you will understand. Your father cheating on me was a given. But being witnessed by me was important. Now I can do what I wanted to do without any guilt. You get that, Jin? I am free and I can do whatever I want now."

She was ecstatic. I could feel it in her bones. Her eyes were wild and she was looking unhinged. Even at that age, I knew that it wasnt normal. But I didn't dare to say it to her.

"Oh..my baby. You don't need to cry. I'm perfectly alright. You should be happy for me. I'm not crying. Why are you?"

I was crying? Yeah, I guess. She wiped my tears with her thumbs and gave me a soft kiss on my forehead. I was shaking with emotions I did not know. Everything was so confusing. 

She put me on the bed and caressed my head. I was still crying, my body was wracked with silent sobs but my mother was busy humming and running her fingers in my hair. It went like that for a long time until I felt my eyes grow heavy and I drifted off to sleep.

I blew out a puff of smoke and took a deep breath. The moist air around me enveloping the graveyard in a dark misty haze. I must have been here for hours now.

Shit.

Being in my memory bank is proving to be a chore these days. I'm fucking losing my track of time.

I dropped down my cigarette and crushed it with my boot when I felt a vibration in my pocket.

It was Hoseok.

"Yeah."

"Hyung. Everything is ready. Everyone is waiting for you."

Ah. My marriage.

"I'm on my way." With that, I cut the call. I gently knelt by the stone and ran my palm across the engraved name on the stone.

Kim Jihye. A mother. Who loved and thrived.

It was written in her will. To be remembered like this. I felt a silent tear slide down my cheek and quickly wiped it off.

I stood up and adjusted my coat, brushing off the excess water on it. I moved back my hair from my forehead and looked at my mother's grave for a long time.

She loved me the most. I know that. My eyes were filled with fury when I remembered the pain she had to go through for me.

After knowing about my father's infidelity, my mother mocked him for fucking a maid instead of getting angry at him the next day.

I saw the first slap coming but it wasn't for me. I saw my mother dropping down on the floor with her shaking hand on her cheek. My father didn't give her time to reel from it and slapped her again. I still remember the sounds—the hits, her screams, the broken vases splintering on the walls, the upturned furniture. It was horrible.

But what could I have done? I was weak. I couldn't do anything.

I stood there behind the door, trembling, with my piss puddling on the floor around my feet. I was eight, for fuck's sake.

Eventually he tired himself and left the house. I still didn't move, afraid that he would come back and see me and wouldn't hesitate to harm me.

My mother's pained whimpers made me slowly walk to her. I knelt down and pushed her hair from her face. Bad idea. I screamed in agony and she, in pain. Her face was bruised horribly. Cuts and black spots covering them. I gently held her hand and we both cried that day.

She, for the loss of dignity she held so dearly to herself and I, for the loss of innocence which I wasn't granted in the first place.

The soft crunch of the leaves under my boots echoed after the light showers stopped. I made my way to my car and started the ignition.

I still have a long way to go. Vengeance was not even close to a second. He will pay for this. By tenfold. And I will be there to witness it.

It's just like someone said,

'I never forget nor will I forgive.'

Blasting 'Babylon' in full volume, I drove to Bae Pilsoo's office. The one step to my victory.

I smirked.