KIBA ; STRAY KIDS

69 ; KIBA

I was in shock. I could feel my whole body shut down with every word I had read from the article. I couldn't feel the phone in my hand, or Seungmin's fingers brushing mine. Every part of my body was in complete lockdown, my mind was freezing over. I was anxious, I was going to puke, I think. 

I felt hands try and catch me. Was I falling? I tried to swallow, but my mouth was completely dry, there was nothing to swallow. I felt a pain in my knees, but I wasn't sure if I was kneeling. I could hear murmurs, but it looked like everyone was shouting at me. I looked at my hands, they were shaking unbelievably bad like I had frostbite or something.

"KIBA!" 

My vision was blurring up now. It was all just swirls of colour, like Van Goth had just painted me as a tragedy. 

So, they did it. My parents had ruined my life. That was it for me. No more music or acting. I was a thief now, and a bad son. They were no longer the horrible parents that kicked me out, but the victims of a bad son who only wanted their money. They had won. I had nothing more to protect, they had simply ripped it all away from me within an instant.

There was no way I could fight back from that. My current manager would drop me, just like before and I would be left alone to try and fix it myself. I would have to leave Stray kids...God, I couldn't even last 2 years. I would have to end my relationship with Seungmin. Everything, every ounce of happiness I had known, they had managed to tear it all apart with twisted lies.

I pulled myself to stand up, and all the murmurs stopped. I didn't care anymore; I was tired now. I just need to go in the shower. I tumbled into my room slowly, one foot at a time, like my body was drained over everything it needed to move. I could hear the water, but I don't think I remember turning the shower on.

I was cold, I didn't realise all my clothes were on the floor. Everything was moving, time was moving, but I couldn't remember doing any of that. As soon as I stepped into the shower, I puked on my feet and down the drain. This time I was aware I was crying. So hard I couldn't breathe properly. So hard it felt like my head was going to explode.

I couldn't stand anymore; I simply had no power. I was sitting under the water which had washed away my puke, and I just cried in a tiny ball. I felt pathetic - I felt like a baby. A useless pathetic baby. I couldn't take this, all this pain, all the suffering. All done by the people who should be helping me, telling me I'm not pathetic, helping me grow into an adult.

I remember raising my fists to my head to get rid of some of the despairing anger in my body. My fists hit my temples and the sides of my eyes hard, but the pain was nothing compared to the one bursting out of my chest. Maybe I was bleeding and losing blood, or maybe I was having an anxiety attack and was struggling to breath. I wasn't sure, but I didn't want it to stop. These emotions are the only thing I can feel right now.

I just remember a loud bang after few quiet minutes. I remember my name being called. I remember blacking out suddenly.

Then, I remember waking up again. I was in my bed, but my pillow was soaked because of my damp hair. I could see the light coming into my room from the window above my bed, and I tried to sit up, but pain was engulfing me again. I ignored it as best as I could. 

When my depression flares up, I become someone else. I, all of a sudden enjoy the pain, like it's an old friend of mine and I need it to know I'm alive, but at the same time, I like the pain because I'm hoping it can kill me. 

I looked in my bathroom mirror. I ignored the wet clothes on the floor and focused on the bruises on my temple and my slightly black eye. My eye wasn't noticeable until you get up close, but my temples were bad. I can't remember hitting myself that hard. All I could do was sigh and turn away from my bathroom and face the faces waiting for me beyond my room.

I didn't really care all that much. I would have to say goodbye anyway. Not like I have much of a career anymore. I'm just a thief now.

"Kiba!" I heard voices of surprise, but they were filled with relief, "Baby."

His cold fingers were on my cheeks, looking at me closely, and grimacing when he saw the bruises. I was happy he was worried about me, but it made me sad that this would be the last time, for real this time. All the others were standing up slowly now, and afraid to come closer, like I would breakdown again.

"I should start packing then." I whispered but seems all of them heard.

"Packing?" Chan questioned, "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you read the article?" I chuckled, "I'm a thief now."

"If you go back into that room and start packing then I'm never talking to you again." Chan said, his eyes full of determination like it would make me stay.

"It's probably for the best Chan." I said, perhaps he mistook it for sadness, but really, I was just tired. 

As soon as I pack and go. Then I'm going for good.

My parents had won.