Voiceless |Book 1| Complete

9 | Breaking Voices

Jisung was just 7 years old when he knew he wanted to sing. But it came at a price.

His vocal chords were strained countless times, his voice shakey and raspy. But it didn't stop him from wanting to pursue his little kids dream. Jumping up his steps to the house, he smiled happily walking in through the front door with a piece of paper that he needed tohave his parents sign.

"Momma?" The little boy said out loud, it was very dry and feint while taking his shoes off. To Jisung, he doesn't remember when it all went wrong.

"Ugh... This child... His voice his dead. And he's completely useless."

Jisung stopped at the door frame. Hearing the murmers.

Was he useless? What did that mean?

"You produced a child who barely can talk. Its disgusting." A male figure spoke. He knew it to be his father, he heard the sound of a tin can get thrown.

"He's useless. His voice is piercingly annoying, he can't even help himself. I wish we could have gotten rid of him then..." His mother responsed.

Am I bad?

"He should just never talk. We can force that right?" His father responded.

Jisung being 7 knew what those words meant. He wasn't dumb by any means.

He was hated.

He was going to hear these words soon.

He couldn't blame his parents, because what they said is true. His voice was broken. At least this is what he started to believe. He looked down at the paper he had in his hands. His dream becoming shattered at such a young age.

He didn't even realise he had tears forming in his eyes, or that his parents could hear him. He shredded the paper running for the stairs.

When did things go wrong?

He doesn't remember.

☆ミ　☆彡

Jisungs eyes burned, once he opened them. He felt sick, his stomach aching. Recalling events from last night.

All he did was try and clean glass up. He tried making himself discreet to his drunk parents. Laying on his bed, struggling for air, his chest felt like it was going to explode. Carefully pulling the shirt up that he had worn, blochy marks litered his ribcage.

He heaved another breath, biting his lip. Jisung continued laying in pain, he didn't move. He couldn't. His phone by his side. The broken screen, barely lighting up. His gaze went towards a piece of paper from the other night.

Minho...

Jisung shook his head. He couldn't bother him with this.

He was only beside you because he thinks you know J-One. He doesn't actually like you. He doesn't care for you.

Yet, Jisung grabbed the paper, burning a hole through it. He wanted what we couldn't have. Someone to rely on.

He glanced at his phone before clicking his contacts. He added it...

Weird-Hyung, added. He took another breath, seeing the time. He still hadn't finished his song he wanted to release. So with great aversion and in emmense pain he rolled off the bed, standing up and heading to his closet with small steps.

He changed into black joggers, and another oversized hoodie. He didn't want anything tight today. He wanted to scream out in pain but bit his lips from doing so.

He grabbed his bag setting it on the bed. Before going to his door, listening intently. His goal was hoping he didn't have to crawl through his window again and that maybe for once take the stairs.

That was only if his parents weren't home, but from the sounds of the TV and the incoherent yelling at eachother, looked to be a sign of window and tree climbing. He sighed wandering back over to his window, pushing the pane up and shoved the crow bar to keep it up. He slipped his back-pack on crawling through the thing opening. He gently reached for his tree, but the pain resticted his movements. Slipping and barely catching the branch in his arms.

Fucking hell...

He was thankful that somehow even for a dead tree, the branches haven't given out on him yet. Looking at the sky,he saw bright sun and not a cloud in the sky. He wasn't anywhere near ready to try and throw himself back up to remove the bar that kept his window up.

Nothing was important in the room anyways. Sure, he might end up with some sort of insect or dead leaves in there now, but frankly speaking he just didn't have the energy to care anymore.

Once he was finally down and off the tree, he gave one final heavy breath. Holding his side. He pulled his earbuds out and his out-to-date I-pod to listen to music.

He looked at his phone again...

Should I?

He clicked the number to dial. Letting it ring. He almost gave up until someone answered with heavy breaths.

"Hello..."

"Min..." Jisungs voice cracked under pressure. Hoping that was just enough to say it was him.

"Han is that you?" Minho responded.

"Mhmm..." Jisung hummed out. It was better then being silent. But then Jisung hung up. And started texting...

Sungie:

Audio booth 3
...
At 4:30

Was he crazy? Maybe. Was he hoping someone will stay by his side? Most definitely. Will he get hurt? Probably.

Thats how it always was.

Weird-Hyung:

I'll be there.

Jisung shoved his phone back into his pocket, picking up his pace. He gritted his teeth at the pain, but let the music subside his thoughts about it. He didn't want to think of the pain he was in. He wanted to make his track or at least finish it so he can upload it.

He wandered the streets till he entered the university. His pace slowed down as he looked at the ground.

Why is there so many people on a sunday?

Jisung quickly slipped by, making himself scarce as he headed for the music department. He was really going to show Minho the truth. The truth that will make or break him.

He was overwhelmed and scared, but if one person should know it. It was him... he himself didn't know how much longer he had. His vocals strained alot, the lack of nutritional value and fluids weren't doing him any better.

He walked up behind Minho who was standing at the doors to the audio booths already. Sneaking up, well not trying to, but he needed to conserve his voice.

This was it...