Mimic Me

I Low-key Kind Of Hate U

All I can think about was how much I want to kill Kwon Soonyoung.

Who does he think he is? It's not my fault I'm disabled, shouldn't he feel some remorse?

Normal people don't yell at others for uncontrollable misfortunes.

It's like shouting at the rain for getting you wet.

In my mind, we should be friends, that's how forgiving works.

I apologized for ignoring him on my first day, he apologized for being so rude, so why can't we be buddies? Or maybe even acquaintances?

I hate when people dislike me for what I can't control. Yet here I am, loathing his every feature.

The anger was well rested in my head but seemed to splurge down to my hands and my chest.

I'm seeing red. For such a little thing too, I shouldn't be this offended. A normal person wouldn't mind. But nonetheless, my eyes burn at the meer idea of Soonyoung.

I'm dying to say every negative, rude, outrageous curse that I know to his face. I want to swear and yell all day long, until my lungs ran out of oxygen. I want to watch his breath come short and see his body clench ridgedly just like mine has.

My alarm began, gently shaking the pillows on my bed. I reach to turn it off.

My blood feels like a raging fire, surging up into my head and burning all that is right. I can't go to school, that's for sure. But I can't stop the twelve of them from coming to my house. It wouldn't be unrealistic to say they would not try to visit me. They don't seem to respect boundaries as much as a friendship with me calls for.

Even if they did come into my house and begged me to join them at school, I hadn't slept at all last night, I would be like the living dead, shambling through the school halls, pretending to be regular.

Maybe eating a couple brains would be good for me. I might even build up the smarts to set some descent boundaries instead of acting as a mat to be stepped on, dirt to be brushed under the rug when it scares away good company.

I can't think about this for another second, I'm a word away from collapse. the more I ponder, the more I ached to grab the gun that rests on my bedside table.

It's not too late Jihoon. I thought.

It's never too late to do yourself a favor.

Do everyone a favor.

It's my own conscience, it's the voice of Nailen, shiftng into the gruff mumble of my father.

No one wants you around anymore. He spat in disgust.

The speaker morphed into my mother's indifference. Do us all a favor Woozi, do it.

The last two words ring over and over in my head, the only thought that makes its way through the static in my ears.

Soonyoung fades into my other, darker thoughts and doesn't resurface. All I can hear is the impeding gunshot sounding through the block, followed by a heavy thump. I turn to my pistol, silver and new. The metal gleams and glitters with the dust moats floating in from the window.

Fasinating how such a deadly weapon could appear pretty with just a glint of innocence and normality added to its being.

My parents are at work. Long gone.

No one would hear or notice the shot. There aren't many people on my street, even if the blare was loud enough to be heard, they're all passed out asleep this early in the day.