It was a fairly nice day I had chosen I would go through with a plan I had harbored secret for many years. The sun was out, shining onto the joyful earth. It was the beginning of spring and from down the road I could see my mother'scherished garden being to bloom beautifully, blossoms standing out more than the massive home behind it. There, my greatest enemy resided, enjoying the riches her late husband left to her without a care in the world. There, my greatest enemy, my mother, enjoyed spends the money she had denied me for years.
Going into her tiny palace I was welcomed by the unspoken, "Taehyung is better than you." His face decorated the walls of the main hallway, from his baby pictures to his college graduation. I scanned the familiar sight, nothing had changed, my facewas nowhere to be found unless Taehyung was in the photo as well. Passing by her kitchen her refrigerator remained the same; every newspaper article with the name 'Kim Taehyung' mentioned in it was carefully clipped out and displayed on the door. Due to my brother's notorious reputation as the best executive in all of Korea, his name was everywhere. The most recent clipping was a picture of his new pharmaceutical branch, which had opened two or three weeks ago. Scanning through the article of biased praise of how this was a major accomplishment for someone so young. Further down was the usual pity statement, about our, no his, father dying when he as eighteen and leaving a massive burden upon his first born to continue his legacy in the medical business. It droned on about Taehyung's other accomplishments to which I had no interest in reading, because I would only hear it later on from my mother. She walked in behind me soon after, a gleeful smile on her face. I tried to reciprocate the gesture. As I had predicted, she was more than happy to drone on about my brother's recent success, as though I was completely ignorant what my own brother was doing. She led me to the living room, and we sat for what felt for hours, talking about miscellaneous things but the conversation always led back to Taehyung and how perfect he was. I felt my hatred for my brother grow more than it did for my mother did every time he was praised. The gun I had sitting against the dip in my back began to feel like it was on fire, burning its way up my spine. The fire seeped below my skin, capturing my lungs, forcing all the air out. I could not breathe, I knew I was getting anxious, I knew if I did not get over soon I would crack from myself imposed pressure. I clutched my legs with my sweaty hands, gripping at the thin fabric that covered them and my kneecaps untilmy knuckles turned white. My mother kept talking but her voice did not make it to my ears, like a television with the volume muted. I knew she was talking, I just could not hear her. I felt my expression go dark and I saw her face fall. I was above her now; her tiny body began to shake. Then, just then, I realized I was holding the gun in my hand pressed between her eyes as she looked up at me, tearing up. She was shaking so hard that she moved and the barrel hit her in the eye, but she did not make a sound, she knew better than to do such a thing. I relaxed my gaze, my eyebrows softening from the hard V they had made just moments ago. I removed the gun from her head, though no sigh of relief was heard. I glanced at my watch, the minute hand had just passed eight thirty, and I felt my stomach growl.
She hunched over the boiling pot, galbi cooking away as she kept her back to me, still shaking. "Don't get tears in my food, ma." I saw her jump at my sudden comment, a shallow nod following. She measured the rice out carefully, never making eye contact with me. The gun sat next to me while I sat on the counter, watching her cook away over the top of my phone. I began to get bored, weighing whether or not I should make it known I had killed my mother and face the prison time. Prison time began to be much more appealing than trying to make up an alibi. I slid off the counter, gun in my left hand and approached her from behind, aligning the gun with the crown of her head, pushing her black hair to the side. I watched her shake, the container of rice she was holding falling to the floor, the million little grains clattered to the ground. She shook, hands clasped in front of her face in prayer, "Take me now," being chanted like a mantra.
"No one can help you now, mother." My words dripped with venom, my lips upturned at her reaction. I unlocked the safety slowly; the loud click startled her more as tears began to fall like a river down her face. I was no longer amused with her feedback; I wanted to get over with it already. My breathing began quicker in anticipation, pulling down on the trigger. The sound echoed through the rooms and the hallways, reverberating through my core. Her blood decorated the backsplash, the rice on the ground stained red. A chunk of her right ear flew off, her body collapsing to the side, head bleeding profusely. The deed was done, a weight lifted off my shoulders, sirens whirling around me. Her concerned neighbors had called the police. Knowing that there was not a possibility for an alibi. I decided to do the honorable thing; I was going to end my own life. Just as I pointed the gun up at the ceiling, there was a loud knock on the door by the police. I was startled by the sudden knock and accidentally discharged the gun, the trigger back, the bullet went through the ceiling, the knocking ceased, and they had backed down. A smirk spread across my face as I held the barrel to my head, one more shot was heard.
