Jopok

1: Drip

Rain.

Drip.

"Come on, Rain, show us your latest dance moves!" My father's voice, full of warmth and encouragement, echoed through the living room. He twirls my little brother, Nick, who is 7-years-old in his arms, the two of them caught in a whirlwind of laughter. The infectious joy spread, and soon we were all caught up in the rhythm of laughter and dance.

"I've been practicing," I say with a serious expression, positioning myself in the makeshift dance floor. The room erupts into laughter as my awkward yet enthusiastic moves sent everyone into fits of giggles.

Drip. Drip.

"Do you guys hear that." I question trying to figure out what was making that sound.

"Its just the sound of your two left feet!" Nick cackles out loud making fun of my dance moves.

My mother, a beacon of grace and humor, chimed in, "Rain, dear, I think even the cat is trying to teach you better moves!" We all turned to find our fluffy cat, Yuki, swaying its tail in what seemed like a judgmental fashion. Amidst the laughter, my father grabbed a guitar, a relic from his college days.

My mother is a hardworking, strong, smart, confident black woman. She met my father while she was studying abroad in college in South Korea. My father fell in love with her the moment he heard one of her jokes in class. He serenaded her with his guitar and she fell head over heels for him too. Once they both graduated from college they got married and my mother moved to South Korea to be with my father. Then they had me and my little brother.

"Let's see if I still remember how to play this thing!" he declares, strumming a few chords with a nostalgic smile. The living room transforms into an impromptu concert hall, and we sing along to the tunes of his eclectic playlist.

Drip. Drop. Drip.

That sound once again intruppting my family's singing. The sound was starting to drive me mad. Where was that sound coming from?

As the evening unfolds, we engage in lively banter each family member sharing the quirkiest highlights of their day. Nick, ever the mischief-maker, recounts a hilarious incident at school that had his classmates in stitches. My mother, the queen of witty comebacks, had us in tears with her tales of office antics.

"Mom, you should seriously consider stand-up comedy," I suggest between fits of laughter. She shot me a playful glare, "Oh, Rain, my true calling is right here, making our family the funniest one on the block."

Even Yuki the cat seemed to join in on the merriment, leaping onto the coffee table with an inexplicable burst of feline energy. The sight of our dignified cat engaging in an impromptu dance-off only intensified our laughter.

Drip.

Suddenly, the laughter of my family starts to fade. The cackles of my little brother sounded as if cotton had been stuffed in his mouth. Now all I could hear was that infurating sound of water and it started to get more and more agressive.

DRIP. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP

I stick my fingers in my ears and close my eyes as tight as possible to try and drown out the dripping noise. Soon the dripping noise deciced to release me from its horrid musical concert. I slowly start to open my eyes. My surroundings were different, it was dimly light where ever I was. I smelled a strong scent of copper and felt the cold tiled floor beneth me. I came to the relization that I was underneath the kitchen table.

Drip. Drip.

Again, I hear that dripping sound but this time my heart felt as if it was going to explode. A wave of fear rushes over me and I can't figure out why I was starting to panic. I crawl toward the end of the kitchen table and pull back the table clothe so I could escape from underneath. As I am about to make my escape I feel my other hand land into something warm and wet. I slowly look down at my hand and to my dismay it was covered in blood. I rush from underneath the table and what I saw next would scar anyone for the rest of their lives.

The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of tragedy, each breath I took was bitter. The room, once a sanctuary, now echoed with the haunting aftermath of unspeakable violence. My family, my world, lay broken, their lifeless forms scattered across the cold, unforgiving floor.

My trembling hands clutched the back of a kitchen chair, a feeble attempt to anchor myself in a reality that had spiraled into a nightmare. The metallic scent of blood permeated the air, and I could hear the rhythmic drip of my father's life force seeping into the unforgiving floor. Each drop echoed like a twisted melody, a grotesque symphony that underscored the horror of the scene before me.

My eyes, stinging with unshed tears, swept over the room. My mother, once the embodiment of strength, now crumpled like a discarded puppet. The crimson pool surrounding her framed a grotesque tableau of loss. The laughter that had once filled our home was now replaced by an eerie silence, punctuated only by the relentless..

Drip. drip. drip that echoed in my ears.

The realization struck me with a force that stole the air from my lungs. Betrayal, a venomous serpent, coiled itself around my heart, constricting with each beat. I pressed a hand against my mouth, stifling the anguished scream that threatened to escape. At that moment, time seemed to stretch and contract, a distorted reflection of the life that had been shattered. My gaze fixated on the lifeless eyes of my younger brother, his innocence forever extinguished. The weight of grief pressed upon my chest, threatening to crush the last vestiges of my sanity.

The front door left wide open, a chilling breeze whispered through the room, carrying with it the stench of death and the ghostly echoes of laughter that would never again grace our home. As I stood amidst the wreckage of my once happy life, a searing rage ignited within me an inferno fueled by the blood-soaked floor and the shattered remnants of my family. The world outside continued its indifferent existence, unaware of the cataclysm that had befallen us. In the shadows cast by the unspeakable tragedy, a resolve hardened within me. I would find those responsible, expose the demon, and make them pay for the desecration of everything I held dear.