Are You Calling Me A Sinner ?

chapter one : a broken bottle and a brown piano

it's become an unhealthy routine, listening to the way he talks to her, to us. echoing obscenities filled the living room as he staggers toward her, hand in the air, ready to stain her almost porcelain skin again. my body feels hot, blood boiling at the scene infront of my eyes. why is it her fault ? she never chose to be born like this. why does he fucking hate the way she looks ? is it because she looks exactly like our mother ? is it that disgusting of a sight to him ? no more. no. more.

"stop, no... please-" her words are trapped. the sound of her voice being snuffed out by an overwhelming aniexty as it takes over her entire being. no, i have to do something. anything. my eyes rake over every object in the room as it comes into point of view with his empty glass bottles. there's enough for it to be called a bottle factory. a full display of what undoubtedly adds fuel to his fire. how befitting. how ironic.

the crackling sound of a heavy hand against soft skin hauls me be back into reality. the stinging feeling that remains causes her to scrunch up her face in disdain, hand trembling as it reaches up to rub the bruise that's already forming. with no time to properly think, survival instincts takes over. my feet hurries across the floorboards as i reach for one of the bottles, the strong scent of alcohol burning my nose.

just as he's about to assault her again, i charge towards him, all reasoning completely out the window. the look on his face right before it comes into contact with that cold hard glass, awakens something in me. call it what you want. a taste of power. of superiority. maybe revenge? it didn't go all red for me. no. i wasn't blinded my anger. i could see crystal clear. i was just hurt. deeply emotionally hurt.

memories being evoked my mind, memories that feel so warm yet so strange. she used to smile. she used to be happy. i have to do it. it's the only way. i just want her to smile again, to be happy again. he did this. he caused all of this hell. he deserves to dwell in that place for all eternity. hell. i stumbled backwards, looking down at him arching over in pain.

-serendipity, yes, that's what it was. that's what i'll call it. unexpected good luck.

my eyes skim down to the broken bottle in my hand, splinters piercing my skin as blood trickles down. i hesitate for a moment- no. i have to do this. for her. for my sister. in spite of myself, i drive the jagged end of the bottle with my own bloodied hands into the chest of that evil man, the one who i dare not call father. again, and again, and again.

my screams getting louder with each gruesome stab. as his white t-shirt begins to changing to crimson red, he staggers back, falling to the ground. my sister screams at the scene infront of her. startled at the outburst or maybe, the lifeless body infront of me, not really sure which one ; i drop my weapon.

" what have you done, tae ?" she sobs, dropping to her knees in disbelief. my head feels so light. everything's so noisy. i can't breathe. i did the right thing, right? my ears are ringing. what have you done ? you monster. you think this makes it okay? you think you can just end violence with violence ? you don't know what you've done. immoral. what have you done? murderer. you're worse than him. you monster.

it's too much. the voices. it's so noisy. why won't it stop ? "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT U-" i became overhelmed, choking on my own voice. all feeling in my legs give way, as i fall to the ground completely shaking. i scrutinize my trembling bloodied hands, the hands of a murderer, as i just let it all out. all those voices. i scream and i sob until all that's left is a throbbing headache and a heavy heart.

-

he stares through the glass window at the big brown piano stettled in the display. his big brown piano. the one he loved. the one he played with his mother. the one they took from him. the one his father let them take all to forget about her. but he knew. he knew it was no accident. he knew it was planned. they burned her. they set her on fire. they incinerated her body, her face, all because of a stupid big brown piano.

anger begins to consume him like a wild fire. he sets down his half empty bottle looking around until he reaches for the rock settled perfectly in his point of view. he reasons that it's a sign from above to shatter that fucking window and burn that big brown piano to ashes. this was no ordinary music shop. it was all just a front for rich people to conduct illicit activities behind the scenes. the same rich people who kill his mother out of spite and jealousy.

aiming right above the knob of the glass door he launches the rock, breaking part of the door into shards. he pushing his hand through the opening unlocking the door from the inside. the store alarm begins blaring, lighting up bright red as he picks up his bottle walking right on inside towards the big brown piano. he clumsily feels for the lighter in his pocket. taking it out he pours the remnants of the alcohol on the ground. he ignites the flames as he throws the lighter onto the wet floor.

nostalgic feelings begin to momentarily overthrow the anger and pain that always resided within him causing him to sit down by the piano for a minute. he doesn't even know what the fuck he's doing. he came to burn. not to play.

memories of his mother laughing and playing to him come rushing back to him. her cheers and applause when he won each competition. he thinks to himself, one last song, just to say goodbye. as his fingers drunkenly dances across the keys as he tries to remember the piece his mother woud often play. the first piece of music he ever learnt to play. nothing. he can't do it. he can't hear it. all he hears is a white noise. he's completely useless.

before he can even attempt at another try he leans over as he experiences a coughing fit, most likely from inhaling too much of the harsh thick black smoke. his throat burns, his eyes are watery and his heart is in pain. his head begins to feel tight as his body becomes limp. " stay with me, okay?" a deep muffled request is the last thing that registers in his brain before it's lights out.

his head is ringing, his hands are hurting, he feels sore. slowly opening his eyes, his vision paints him a blurry picture. he's in a small dirty cold place in wet clothing. his hands are slightly burned. how did i get here? like a brick to the face, the pungent smell of shit hits him. it's all over him. straining his neck to look behind him, he sees a thin man resting against the wall, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. his appearance looks dingy.

who is this ? the piano. where's the piano ? why did he interfere? where am i? i was going to see her again. salty tears run down his face causing him to scrunch in pain. the stinging of the burns on his chubby cheeks and pouty lips fully wakes him up from his daze. nostolgia no longer resides in him. he's angry and full of pain.

"why did you save me ?"