ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ || 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

Chapter 17: Ticket To Freedom

I stared at the black, faux leather wallet in my hand. It was a small, thin, and quite empty wallet. Carefully, I opened it. There was no surprise on my face when I came to realize the lack of money within the wallet. At the most, there was a total of what potentially looked to be 15 dollars with some spare change. Damn, this man is really broke, isn't he? That, or he just blows too much of his money on alcohol.

The elevator door opened, revealing the 7th floor completely deserted. With the stolen wallet in one hand, and a clenched fist in the other, I proceeded back to the apartment in full stride. My footsteps sounded almost hollow, although that wouldn't make much sense logically. Although I was slightly worried about him figuring out I took the wallet, I already had the perfect counter to cover up any suspicions: I was going to get him a new wallet. Not just any though. The plan is simple:

First, I was going to check the brand, and make sure I found the perfect wallet to match with his.

Next, I'll purchase one as soon as possible. I'll make sure to scratch it up a little so it looks exactly like the original.

Then, I'm going to leave it on the floor next to the door of his apartment. It'll convince him that he dropped it on the way out, and that's why he couldn't find it. Smart, but not brilliant.

There are a million other ways a teenager could blow off school, yet I choose to spend it like this: plotting the murder of my best friend's abusive father. I'm starting to feel like a psychopath. It's not like this is my first murder though. Just because it's more elaborate doesn't mean I'm-

"Seungmin-ah!" A female voice yelled, interrupting my train of thought. The sound of the front door slamming shut caused my heart to skip a beat or two. It didn't matter if it was Umma or Noona, what mattered was why she was home so soon. Most importantly, how she knew I was here.

I coughed. A sort of dryness coated my throat, even though I was perfectly hydrated. Unless... I wasn't hydrated? Now that I think about it, have I ever eaten anything today?

The footsteps of what I assumed to be my angry mother approached my room in a foreboding manner. Although it took only minutes for the footsteps to stop in front of my room, it felt like an eternity as I waited in anxiousness. Part of me wanted to hide, possibly duck under the bed until she left. But what would the use in that be? My feet felt as if I was stuck in quicksand anyways, moving them seemed quite burdensome at this point.

This is around the time I'd say something like "the door knob slowly turned in an ominous manner," but unfortunately this wasn't the case. Instead, my mother swung the door open with an inhumane amount of force, causing the door to rebound off the wall on impact.

Her eyes widened when her suspicions were confirmed: I was indeed still here, standing at home in my room. She glanced at my right hand which held the crusty ass wallet, then at my expressionless face. A subtle shade of red anger under-toned her skin. My heartbeat jumped, my BPM spiking. I admit it, I have sinned. I have sinned many times. But God, if you exist...

Please don't let this be the end of me.

No emotions were presently displayed against the pale skin on my face. However, emotions were definitely going on behind it. Unless... there aren't? For a minute, I really tried to feel. Am I actually scared? Or is that just how I think I'm supposed to feel? Now that I'm on this topic, I don't think I've really felt anything at all ever since I came up with that much too elaborate scheme to kill Mr. Chae.

All this thinking had caught me in a trace, long enough for me to not notice Umma removing her house slippers. Swiftly picking it up, she held it up, letting out a loud scream.

"SEUNG MIN-AH! WHAT IS THIS!? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THIS SITUATION!?"

I stared blankly at her. She moved closer, getting ready to hit me. Already knowing she won't, I didn't bother flinching. This sparked her surprise as she retreated a few steps.

"YAH! ANSWER!" I stayed silent. "KIM SEUNGMIN!"

Still, I didn't respond. My mother sighed at me, giving in to the goal of intimidating me into speaking. She let out a dismayed sign, almost sounding like one of disappointment. Dropping her hands, she released the shoe from her hand, slipping it back onto her foot. Then, she grabbed my arm, dragged me over to the bed, and sat me down. I looked at her while feeling slightly confused.

With yet another sigh, she sat down next to me on the bed. It took a few minutes in silence before she finally spoke. She didn't even look at me, her eyes were too fixated on something across my room. I clenched the wallet in my hand tightly, listening to her words but not retaliating.

"When I was your age, I used to be like you. That's how I got your father to fall in love with me. I skipped school sometimes just to hang out with him. By the time we got to Year 8 though, I couldn't do that anymore," she began to explain in a soft voice. There was a brief pause before she turned her head to me.

"Lately, you've been acting differently. You've barely been outside your room, you've been staying up too late, skipping school, skipping meals- look how much weight you've lost!" A shiver ran down my spine as I looked down at myself. Unintentionally, my eyes trailed off to stare blankly at the half empty wallet in my hand.

"I understand you're growing up, but can't you do it without breaking rules? You haven't been at school in almost two weeks now. I have teachers complaining about your attendance. Your grades are dropping too. I expect better from you, Kim Seungmin," Something about this conversation made me feel so uncomfortable, which was a first. The way my mother described me was as if she was describing a mentally ill trauma victim. It sounded so... harsh for no reason. Unless there was a reason. Unless I truly am a mentally ill victim of trauma.

But what trauma? Nothing's happened. Not that I can recall at least.

What mental illness? I feel fine. It's only a little feeling... off. The world is slowly engulfing me in a pit of darkness. It feels like the world is against me but I need to persist through it. I need to reach my goal in order to make the voices around me shut up. Nothing else matters; nothing else except my goal: killing that bastard of a father and freeing my best friend.

I can't rest until I do. I need to fix-

"Seungmin, please," Umma's tone had changed from expressive to concerned. Was she worried about me? I couldn't tell anymore, everything feels off these days. The sound of her sniffling invaded the silence. Some part of my chest ached from hearing her soft cries but there was nothing I could do. "S-Seungmin-ah! Please, s-say something! Everyone is worried about you!"

Without a single warning, she threw her arms around me. Her hands caressed my hair, as if she was checking to see if I'm real or just a bad dream. If anything, my existence felt like a bad dream. Even to myself.

Speaking felt like such a foreign idea. It physically hurt me to think about finally saying something. Of course, I mustered up all the will I had to say something. Took a while, so for about seventeen awkward minutes straight, I sat there listening to my mother balling her eyes out before I could finally speak.

"U-Umma," I answered, secretly crawling in my skin at the sound of my own voice. "I'm sorry,"

With wide, doe-like eyes, she backed away, wiping her tears as she did so. I couldn't tell if she was as shocked by the sound of my voice as I was, or if she was trying to restrain herself from slapping me. Most likely both.

My breath hinged. "Seungmin-ah," her voice stiffed, her eyes staring me dead into whatever was left of my soul. "What have you been doing all these months? Does this have to do with Yumi moving?"

I shook my head frantically from side to side. "What's that in your hand?" I froze, my head slowly looking down at the ragged, old wallet in my hand. For the entire twenty five minutes she's been here, I thought she didn't realize it. Maybe I'm the stupid one here for thinking she wouldn't have noticed something as obvious as this.

Recalling her question once more, a slight smirk crossed my face. I let it ring in my brain a few times before opening my mouth to respond.

"A ticket to freedom,"