-Roseate- (A JiKyu Fanfiction)

Recollection

Debtors. Jihoon heard the word too many times in his short span of life. Merely 7 or 8, yet the most common sentence in his life would be 'Where's our money?' He had never seen luxury, never had a life that kept him well fed. Instead, he saw the heinous face of poverty, the constant fear that kept him and his mother waiting for his father to return home alive. The small, kid Jihoon did not know what his father's job was. Hence, knew not that his poor father failed in business, lost in gambles and made enemies after enemies whom he owed  millions. His father would often come home beaten, half dead. He would watch his mother treating him with trembling hands. She would pray all night to God, save as much as he could to pay debts but there was one truth Jihoon knew even at that age.

There's no God for the poor.

When Jihoon had just aged 8, one night, they fled. He remembered the fearful rush, his mother dragging him along, he lost a slipper, one of the only remaining pairs he had. He had no time to look for it. All through the run, he had to stay barefoot, the sharp stones cut him at several places but none was there to worry about that. With the bare minimum belongings, they crossed a river. To get away from the monsters who turned their lives into living hell.

Jihoon liked his new home. It was smaller, darker. They found a small place in a slum to live in. But it was okay. Dirty, yes, but little Jihoon made some friends. The few months he got to live there were the most relieving days in his life, until it broke into total chaos.

The debtors found them.

In that shaded little home of theirs, there was this overhead tiny storage space, barely visible from the outside as it was kept shut always. Jihoon recalled how his mother placed him inside of the small, musty, smelly space with tears flowing non-stop.

"Don't make any sound. Okay? Don't you ever make a single sound!"

She spoke. The last words spoken to him. Jihoon only nodded. He was scared. His mother slammed the small door to that space. It was dark, only a tiny ray of light entered through the spacing of the door. He called his mom, but it echoed. He held his ears in fear. How long would it take for his mother to take him back?

He saw his mother glance at him ever so swiftly. Her eyes were different. He had never seen them like that. Jihoon cried, holding his mouth in fear of making a sound. His father had taken a thick round stick, the glistening thing was maybe a knife. Jihoon couldn't see the entire room, only a small lining but he knew there were several people who entered that room.

His father was defeated in no time. Jihoon trembled every time he heard loud thumps and cracks- of a wood on human flesh. The groans and cries from his parents, he recognised them. He hid himself in his knees, scared to be beaten the same way. The poor boy was shivering hard. Yet, the loud screams of his parents, they pierced through his heart. Little by little, he stepped closer to the door, and looked through the little gap.

What he saw absolutely wrecked him. His father was tied. He had blood all over, his lips hung open, eyes closed. He wasn't moving. The bastards even kicked him, he didn't move. Jihoon stopped the scream with a hand over his mouth. He could tell what had happened. His father was dead. Killed by those cruel monsters.

But the poor boy wasn't tormented enough. He shifted to search for his mom. He'd rather not. The scene was a curse itself. No child deserves to see what he saw, of his beautiful mother.

No they didn't finish raping her. Jihoon saw the action itself. His lifeless mother, whose dead face was still asking for their mercy was shaking as the guy went on. Jihoon moved from the door again, biting his hand because those heart wrenching cries were impossible to stop otherwise.