Everyone craves attention. Some more than others. It's funny, how people do that. Changmin tries to blend in as much as possible, although he's very clearly different. When he was younger, he would read shakespeare and modern day philosophies. He excels in everything. He's kind, sociable and intelligent. The ideal boy. Well, he tries to be. He had a family at one point, but.... That will come up later. He lives by himself, he's in the middle of paying off his apartment. He's very responsible for seventeen years. He doesn't get teased a lot, everyone loves him.
Although it was midnight, Changmin walked down the dead street. He found it was the best time to really think about himself, not worrying about other people. He could let his face rest. His eyes darkened in color and the corners of his mouth were finally able to rest. He could take his hoodie off now. It was beautiful out. A nice breeze tousled his hair, and a light rain moisturize his skin. There was something magical about the feeling of water droplets rolling about his skin. He closed his eyes and spread his arms out. His skin was cold, as it always was, and his wrists burned. He could feel each droplet on his face, every cold pellet hitting his wrists. He opened his mouth slightly, feeling the droplets against his tongue. He tilted his head back a little farther, and he was spiralling down. His knees buckled, his head whipped forward. He couldn't move his arms. He tried opening his eyes, he didn't know if he did. He felt the gag against his mouth. It tasted of iron and humiliation, just like he remembered. He tried standing up, but he couldn't. He felt the material rub against his wrists. He cried out in pain, the fabric was cutting into his skin. Tears welled up, but did not fall. He felt the cold cement on his bare legs, and he felt the freezing cold all around him. His well toned muscles flexed as he tried to break free, but to no avail. He immediately stopped moving out of fear. He remembers those steps. The clomp of each step. The slight scuff as his heel struck the ground. Changmin's breathing was ragged and painful. He heard a drawer being opened. He heard some shuffling, and he heard it's well oiled hinges silently close. The feet came to a stop a foot from him. The man spoke.
"What did you do wrong today baby?"
Changmin jolted off the pavement. He could breathe. He could move his arms, he was clothed. He gasped, and took in as much air as he could. It was 00h15. He pushed himself up and grabbed his sweatshirt again. He glanced as his marks. The faint chaffing was all there was. The other marks he put there. He tore his gaze away. His grey eyes fluttered as he tried to process his surroundings. He was downtown. The familiar buildings loomed over him. The warm glow of the street lamp fell across his chiseled features. He ran a hand through his hair. He stood all the way up and stumbled back to his apartment. He didn't want to risk suffering another...... let's say imagination.
Changmin stumbled up the stairs (he hated elevators) and fell against the door. He felt his head starting to pound. He fumbled with his card and slid it in. He tried to turn the door handle, but his head was spinning. He reached blindly around until he found it. He fell through the door frame and felt his shoulder crash against the mat. He grabbed the ladder and hoisted himself up. His eyes were useless. His head was pounding. He was so close to bed, He just needed to shut the door. He kicked his foot up randomly and he heard the door slam. His head smacked the pillow and he passed out.
He woke around 10 in the morning. Later than usual. He rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He grabbed the ladder rung and hoisted himself up. He stretched and heard his back crack. He walked to the bathroom and popped some pills, they were prescribed around a month ago, they don't do anything for him. The doctor said they would, but they don't. He looked at his reflection, and nearly fell over. The marks were gone, they had to be gone. It's been a year, they couldn't be there. He lightly touched one, and it burned to the touch. He hissed in pain and took his finger off. He felt something wet on his hand. He was bleeding. The blood rushed from his arm down to his hands. He screamed, and everything went black.
