Broken Melodies (NCT)

Xiaojun

They never really went away, the dead. They stay with you, becoming sprites that haunt each memory. If you're vulnerable enough, they seep into you, changing who you are.

He saw them every day: those three people, killed right in front of him. Standing at the corner of his visions, shadows warping into humanoid silhouettes, sneaking in and out of his dreams. They plagued him in accusatory whispers: all your fault. We're dead because of you.

The thing was, they were right. A day didn't go by where he didn't think of them, relive those terrible moments. Hear the earsplitting sound of metal on flesh, the inhuman screech of someone at death's door, smell the acrid scent of blood and gore, see the split open skull of the newly departed. All day, whether he was hanging out with his friends, or at night, staring up at the paint on the ceiling, he thought of them.

Therapy wouldn't do. He would go down for murder, if not manslaughter, if he opened up to what happened that day, and how would he explain the yawning hole in his gut if he didn't tell the story first? No, he would never seek a therapist; they work too close with the law. Instead, he resorted to running the memory in his head every day, trying to find a scene in which held the comforting truth that it wasn't his fault what happened. That an innocent detail spoke that he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or better yet, that it was all a nightmare and he would wake up soon, safe and untainted.

In his heart of hearts, he knew it wasn't true. The truth was plain and simple: he killed them, those three people innocently walking home one cold night. He would wear the collar of 'murderer' around his neck forever, but people wouldn't need to know, right? They could keep thinking of Xiaojun as the timid, shy friend. The friend everyone bullies but is fond of, instead of Xiao Dejun, triple murderer that ran away from justice for five years.

"Hey, Xiaojun! You listening?"

He snapped back to the present, analyzing the scene for the umpteenth time, looking for a minor detail that would support his delusion, to a well-lit cafe, along with his friends Hendery and Doyoung, staring at him with slightly concerned eyes. Xiaojun quickly arranged his face into one of pleasant suprise. "Sorry, I was just spacing out."

"Anyway, as I was saying before Xiaojun decided to space out. . . "

Xiaojun could forget about forgiveness when with his friends. It was one of the only times he ever felt at peace. What would he do without his friends to guard him from the vengeful spirits waiting for him to take responsibility for his actions? Who else would shield him against the void ready to swallow him whole?

He arrived home later in the night than usual, passing out immediately the moment he hit the bed.

Of course, sleep would leave him defenseless to memories.

ᕙ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ

It started a cold December night a year ago. Xiaojun had got off a work shift late, as the place where he worked was understaffed. Looking back, there were so many features to the incident that could have been prevented easily. Why didn't he offer to stay longer, since it was storming outside? Why did he have to force himself out into the snow and ice and claim those lives? Some selfish part of him also blamed those three people: why were they outside in that kind of weather, on the slippery road where anyone could hit them? Those thoughts, however, were instantly beat down by shame. What was he thinking, blaming the victim when it was clearly all his fault? What kind of coward was he?

It was pitch black outside, with the snow not helping the visibility outside. Xiaojun was struggling to see outside of him, objects jumping out at him from the dark. He made the mistake of turning into a residential road to avoid traffic, where there were little to no streetlights. It was slightly eerie, driving along with nothing but the crunch of his wheels on snow that froze instantly after touching the ground for company, the houses standing silently as a sentinel for the family that was undoubtedly asleep inside. He was going around 40 mph, a dangerously fast speed for the conditions, but he wasn't thinking straight that day.

He was struggling along for a bit longer until his car caught on something outside, and began to skid. No matter how hard Xiaojun tried to get his car under control, it continued to slide at high speeds. His panic increased when he saw three people walking along the road, a plastic bag full of something hanging off one of their arm. Xiaojun slammed on the breaks again and again, even honking the horn. The three looked back, eyes widening and running to get out of the way, but it was too late as, with a world-stopping bump, he hit the them.

The air bags deployed, making Xiaojun feel more claustrophobic as panic began to settle in. There was no way that happened, no way. Did he kill them? The sound of the crash wasn't that loud, so maybe there was a chance that the pedestrians were alive? Getting out of the car, he checked on them, and the sight wasn't pretty.

The car wasn't that badly wrecked, at least better than he thought it would be. It was relatively unscathed, the only sign of damage being the slightly dented hood that had lifted from its place, and the cracked parking light. The pedestrians, however weren't so lucky.

There was blood everywhere. On his car, mixing into the snow and creating paintings beside their fallen artists. The first, a woman who was closest to his car, was very obviously dead. Lying on her stomach, her neck was twisted 90 degrees, so that her sightless eyes stared up at the sky. Her arms were splayed out, as if reaching for some salvation that would never come, one of her legs facing the wrong way as well. Blood leaked from her head in a flowing river, becoming one with the frost.

The man next to her was dead as well, hit in such a way that the bones of his legs had stabbed through his skin and poked out, jagged and dipped in red, as if it was some sort of sick landmark pointing to where he had died. His neck had also been twisted, although not to the degree of the woman, but just so that his eyes landed on Xiaojun. His gaze was slightly surprised, and a little sad too, like he had known this was coming and still had many regrets to resolve.

Xiaojun jumped as a muffled sound came from beside him. Turning, he saw that the third pedestrian, a young girl around six or seven, had survived. Both her legs were broken, rendering her unable to walk, and a piece of ice dislodged from the crash had driven itself in her left eye, blood seeping down her face to create exaggerated crimson tear stains. She was trying to drag herself to a house down the road, but her leg was pinned down with residue snowfall that had frozen instantly. She stretched out a hand to him, tears streaming down her cheeks, trying to say the word "Help".

If the girl lived, she would immediately go to the police and recount what she saw, giving Xiaojun away. He would be charged with either third degree murder or vehicular manslaughter, which would mean he would still serve time in prison, which couldn't happen. He couldn't outright kill her either, since he didn't have the stomach to do that, so he walked away from her desperate pleas, got in his car, and drove off into the night.

He was never caught. When police arrived to the scene the next morning, all three of the pedestrians were found dead: the girl must have frozen to death. Their bodies were so solidly frozen, that it took several days for them to thaw to preform an autopsy, which declared that they had died in a car accident, as everyone had expected. No additional evidence had been found on the bodies, as well as in the crime scene. Coupled with the fact that there had been no cameras on the scene, or witnesses, the case went cold, and was closed a few days later after being ruled an accident.

Xiaojun should have been happy: he had just gotten away with murder, but, after what he had seen, the guilt was too much. He was still stuck in the first stage of grief, denial.

I'm not a killer

AN/////////
My search history went wild with this chapter. I'm sure I'm on an FBI watch list by now.
Common searches include :

How fast does a car have to go to kill?
What kind of damage is done to a car in an accident?
What percentage of hit and runs are successfully prosecuted?
Is it possible for Algor Mortis to be changed with subzero temperatures?

FBI agent I swear I'm a writer not a crimminal.

Also to my viewers I apologize for landing you from a mostly fluff chapter of NCT's 00 line plus Mark to a scene of Xiaojun brutally murdering three people.
😅