the thirteenth | kim taehyung

chapter 6

TAEHYUNG'S POV

"I guess I might as well just tell you now." I slowly began to approach Anabelle. She backed away from me, as if I were a monster. I wasn't surprised by her reaction, I would've done the same if I were in her shoes. When I was just a few feet away from her, I saw her grip on the piece of glass tighten, ready to pierce straight into my face. Anabelle obviously didn't want me anywhere near her, so I kept my distance. "I guess you're the first to notice." I said, and already saw her lips trembling, as if the truth were a dagger aimed for her heart. It looked as if it were going to hurt her more than it would hurt me. However, I had already started, and there was no turning back from exposing my secret now. I always knew that one day someone would eventually find out, but I never thought it could come so fast. Before I knew it, the words began slipping out of my mouth like a bar of soap and my mind was replaying a tragic past.

          "The date was December 30, and I was fourteen at the time. I had just got home from the library and was expecting my mother to greet me in the kitchen."

          I walk into the dining room, surprised that no one was present. Being so, I assume my mother was showering. I walk up the stairs and just about when I was going to enter my room, I hear a muffled scream that sounds oddly similar to my mother's voice. Curious, I follow the sound. It leads me to a closet that no one in the family has used for the past decade or so. It must be an old toy my cousin lost, I thought. I was wrong. I walk in to a masked man using a leather belt to whip my mother, covering her body with purple bruises and crimson cuts. I let out a scream seeing my mother's face.

"Mom! What the hell is going on here?" I immediately kneel next to my mother, trying to shield her from the mysterious man. Her face wasn't even visible, due to the blood covering her destroyed face. Just a few more whips and she would be a goner. The figure looks up to me with soulless eyes and at that moment, I know I had walked into a death trap.  He switches out his belt with a knife, one from a hunting collection. I know because my father has one strangely similar to it. This one, in particular, is always used for weaker preys.

He begins to approach my mother and I, and I can see the muscular appearance beneath his thin long sleeve. I assume he is one of the people my mom owes money to, but had failed to pay in time. We are always in debt, for my mother had a drinking and gambling problem. I sometimes have to walk her home from the nightclub while my father works night shifts to keep a roof above our heads. Nevertheless, she is still the best mother any child could have.

The man was now within a feet away from me and puts the handle into my shaking hands. He takes off his mask, revealing who he really is. I suddenly feel a pang of disbelief and had to blink twice, just in case I was hallucinating. The masked figure is my own father, the same man who made me a delicious breakfast every morning. The same man who came home early from time to time just to check up on my mother and I, but I guess it was all pretend. He was my role model all my life, always looking out for me whenever things went downhill. If this is what he's doing now, then he must've been planning it out all along. His lips curled into a smirk, making me feel weak.

"Dad? Why did you do this?" I ask in a small voice. He doesn't say a single word and looks at the knife, indicating that it is now my turn. Although my father is completely silent, I know what he wanted me to do. I just can't do it. I know that I will become a victim of my father if I fail to obey him, but I will much rather die than kill my own mother. After a few minutes of just me just holding the knife, he got impatient. It's like seeing a demon being spawn from the depths of hell, searching for innocent souls to devour. His pupils looks pitch black, almost like a dungeon. He takes the blade from my sweaty palms and does it for me. He stabs my mother while counting, as if it is a fun game. At the twelfth stab, my father puts the now bloody knife into my hands. I look at my mother, who was panting. She tries to prevent as much blood from escaping her body by using the coats hanging all around to cover her fresh wounds, but is unsuccessful. She looks up at me for the last time and motions for me to go on. This time, I know what I have to do. I have to end my mother's suffering. It is the thirteenth stab that she dies on, the one from my trembling hands.

"Good job, son." My father whistles, patting my back. My blood suddenly boils at the touch of his hand, as if it is poison. My fingers curl around the handle, my knuckles turning pale. I have a grip on the knife so tight, my entire body grows stiff. I let my frustration take control of my actions and before I knew it, my father's body collapses onto the floor.

I looked up at Anabelle, seeing that she had left go of the glass. Her glistening eyes told that she had taken pity on me. But I didn't want it. I turned away, trying my best to hold back my tears. It certainly didn't seem this hard when I imagined this moment in my head. After what seemed like an eternity of crying a river, I felt a pair of frail arms wrap around my neck, generating heat throughout my body. I turned my tear stained face to Anabelle, who was leaning on my back.

"Taehyung, you're not alone. You can cry in front of me." She whispered into my ear, sending chills down my spine. I didn't even sense her presence, all I could feel was the pain from years ago, when I was fourteen. I felt as if I had reopened the wounds of my heart, and it is now leaking inside my body, making me feel suffocated. We stayed in this position for awhile, until I realized that Anabelle had fallen asleep on me. I turned my neck to see a sleeping beauty. Her steady breathing and resting face looked so peaceful, like a newborn baby's first nap in the big world. There was something about her that made me feel relief, or some type of therapeutic sensation. I don't know what it was, but for the first time since Alice was out of my life, I smiled. I slowly sat up, making sure she didn't slide off onto the floor. I used my hands to pick her up bridal-style and laid her on my bed, which felt more comfortable than it should've. I tried my best to not wake her, but I couldn't help it. I smiled at her annoyingly cute sleeping complexion. I sighed and realized, she may be the one. The one I've been dreading of but waiting for all these years.

I promise I won't hurt you, Anabelle.