He groans into my mouth, and I use that moment to push back, trying to take control again. But Han is stronger than he looks, and for once, he's not letting me win.
"Frustrated?" he murmurs between kisses, smirking against my lips.
I bite at his jaw...
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My Father is a perfectionist, he won't accept imperfections. Me. His son. A massive imperfection. My mother died when I was three, instead, I have the kind of stepmom you see in movies. The kind that is puppeted by my father.
I was never the smart type, the type to get an A+ on everything. I was more of the type to skip classes and go smoke on the roof with Bahng and Seo. Safe to say I was everything my father hated.
By the time I was twelve, I was getting hammered by my father's fists weekly. It's something I have grown used to, though I probably hated it when I was young, even if I don't remember. After getting that kind of pain over and over you learn not to feel it. Especially when your father never shows you love, only the stern steel of an emotionless slap in the face. Something I picked up over the years.
I tried to be like him, I tried to feel nothing. And after pretending for years, I became the lie. Some people say I'm just like my father, and I should be furious about that. But I wanted this, didn't I? I wanted to be like him, so I could protect myself from him.
It didn't work, I'm still an imperfection, that's all he sees. The racing was a step forward, it was something, something he thought I could manage, something I was good at. But even in that, I failed him. I am a failure. And I'm well aware of that, and I'm trying to be more for him. But nothing is ever enough, not for my father.
I will always be an imperfection.
After moving out the beatings became less frequent. My last punishment was three weeks ago. I felt nothing. It's irritating that I can't fucking feel pain. I'm numb. All because I wanted to appease my father. My Father who didn't deserve my desire for his love.
But now, as I feel the electrifying sting of Hwang's fist. I writhe.
I don't understand it. I don't understand how just his fists can make me feel pain. Pain that my father inflicts on a monthly basis but somehow, I don't feel.
Hwang. He makes me feel.
"Fucking asshole!" His voice rings in my ear. His deep aggravated voice. Yes, I had been punching back, but sometimes I let him win, I let him pummel me into the ground, just when I needed a real kick. Sometimes Hwang needs to be taught a lesson. And sometimes I've had a really shitty week and I need my fix, so let him.
I smile, I mean I really smile. Pain. Fucking pain, it's so much better than silence, nothing, just cold bitter absence of emotion. I can imagine how I look right now. Blood coated my mouth, smiling psychotically as Hwang drove his fist into my ribs.
"You're sick." He should be used to this by now. The crazy wide smile that overtakes my features every time he beats me. Blood sputters from my lips as I attempt to reply.
"That. That is something I can actually agree on." I croak out, his infuriated expression only makes me smile wider. He's filled with emotion. The things I would give to have what he has. I envy him.
