Dusk Till Dawn

Remembering

Chapter One
Remembering

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Kai's P.O.V.

My arms wrapped around the pillow as if it was the only thing that kept me alive, that kept me breathing. Both knees were brought up close to my chest, forehead pushed up against the pillow, and my abused body laid on top of a comfy bed. A crying mess, that was what I was. My hair was all messy and my crystallizing blue eyes were all red and puffy from crying so much. My whole entire body was exhausted. Why? I honestly don't know either... 

One moment I was thinking about my - messy, complicated, horrid, unmanageable, depressing - life. But then in the next moment, I was crying just from thinking to deeply about it. Vile questions from my sickening brain were added to the mess, causing me to forcefully muffle my cries, hoping that Lee-hun wouldn't be able to hear a single sound from me. Why am I still here? Why am I still living? Why am I still breathing? Is killing oneself really a bad idea? Those were the type of questions that made me bawl myself to sleep every single night ever since I was born. 

I bit my lip, hoping that these thoughts would go away, but of course they wouldn't. My breath quivered every time I breathed. I closed my eyes, excepting the darkness that followed. I didn't dare open my eyes, until the thunder outside boomed across the sky. The rain poured down against the window, literally matching my entire mood. My eyes scanned across my milky arms, arms that were littered with bruises, scabs, and some recent scars. I closed my eyes shut again, remembering the pain those scars had cost, the pain that I caused upon myself. More tears soaked my pillow as the thunder outside continued to shattered across the entire universe. 

I remembered locking the door, which gave a sense of relief since Lee-hun or Ronnie wouldn't be able to rush in and carry me out into the living room so we could chat. They were busy packing our belongings so we could move again... for what seemed to the millionth time already. Why were we moving? Well, according to Lee-hun, she wanted me to be able to fit in a school that weren't filled with bullies of all kinds. She wanted me to be able to feel comfortable around a school that never labeled me as the school's main target. She didn't want me to go through some more suffering then I had already had gone through. Although it may seem like she's doing a huge favor for me, it only made me feel worse about my existence. 

Lee-hun and Ronnie probably had already spent a whole bunch of their money because of me. I felt horribly guilty. They shouldn't have to go through any of this. Without me, their wallets probably would bring them an amazing life that contained four story houses, lamborghinis, and an entire zoo. I sighed, remembering every single word that I had spoken towards Lee-hun and Ronnie. I remembered telling them that we didn't need to move, that we didn't need to go some place else. I remembered disagreeing them, almost shouting at them that I was fine with the school that I supposedly wouldn't mind spending a year in. But of course, they didn't care. The only thing they wanted was for me to belong in a place that actually accepted people like me. No matter how hard I tried resisting, they only shook their heads and signed the contract. 

Guilt and regret submerged throughout my entire body, sending me deeper into the depths of hell. I cried harder, which seemed quite impossible right now. I was already thinking about how I should kill myself. Hanging? Jumping? Stabbing? Or shall I bring out the pills? I smiled at myself in hatred and disgust. I knew death should never be planned, but here I was, already beginning to smell the future scent of blood that could possibly run down my neck after I had snapped it with my own dainty hands. You're pathetic... just pathetic. 

I remembered all those times... all those times where I was bullied countless times. Not just by the schools that I was forced to move out of thanks to Lee-hun and Ronnie, but also in the orphanage. That shitty orphanage I was brought to live in for six years, being bullied and treated disrespectfully for no valid reason. Was it because I was small? Was it because I constantly had scars on my face? Or was it because I was gay? Who fucking knows. The memories of being elbowed at the stomach, punched in the face, and kicked on the knees burned my hopeless brain.

I remembered all those times where I had to use a lighter to close up my wounds because no body would dare take me to the hospital. Probably because they didn't want to loose their reputation or because they didn't want to get involved in my terrible life story. I remembered how that knife, that sharp blade that scuffed me in the back because of a stupid kid, brought me realization of a new pain and how effective it was. I remembered how I wanted to feel that pain again. That pain... that pain that soon lead me into self harm at the age of ten. I yearned for that pain, wanted it. Why? Well, because it distracted me from all of the mental pain I was dealing with throughout those years. You could basically say that it helped me... but no. It didn't help me at all. It scared me. What seemed like a good, well ripe apple, only lead me to the truth of how horrible the devil's temptation was. The scars that I made myself go through only brought me deeper into the depths of hell.

Those scars lead to infections, infections that made me suffer through pain throughout the whole night. I was constantly scavenger hunting, running away from the orphanage into the city nearby, so I could steal a few bandages from the first aid kit that was placed in each supermarket I went to. I was labeled as a thief, which made me feel even more horrible about myself. But I knew that I needed this aid. The pain was unbearable. 

Not only did self harm lead me to the truth of how fragile my health was, but it also put a huge label on my forehead. That label being mental. Everyone at the orphanage thought I was sick in the head, and so they bullied me more. 

The worst part about this whole thing is that I'm still addicted to it. I'm still addicted to that pain caused by a simple slice of a knife against my skin. Every time I was in terrible pain, I used that blade to place scars against myself. And every time when I had realized what I had done to myself, a wave of regret would wash over me. What was I thinking? Why can't I use my brain! This will only drag you down even more! You're such a fucktard! 

But of course, to this day, I still haven't listened to those thoughts. I still hide that blade in my little box under my bed. I still hide it. And I still use it. 

I remembered that day when I found that blade. I remembered that day when that kid scuffed that knife against my back. I felt dreadful pain. I turned around, seeing all of those douche-bags laugh as they point at my ugly, sobbing face. "Look! He's bleeding! Aw, he's crying. Someone call the waa-bulance! Ugh, look at his fucking face. It's disgusting." they would say. 

Once they finally left me alone after giving me a few punches and kicks, I looked down at the bloody floor and saw the blade. I slowly grab the blade with my left hand as my right hand was pressed against the new bloody scar on my back. I looked deep into the knife that showed my reflection. I smiled, even letting out a small laugh, as I looked into the reflection of my crystallizing blue eyes. "Idiot..." I whispered to myself as I gripped the knife's bladed side, causing blood to ooze out of my wrist. It hurt... but I liked it. 

I shook my head fiercely, trying so hard to forget that memory. I've been trying so hard not to go back into doing self harm for the past five days. And so far, I'm succeeding. But the fear of breaking that streak continues to haunt me more. 

I finally realize that I had stopped crying for the past few minutes. Surprised and proud of myself, I finally sit up. I stretch out my arms, but end up accidentally ripping off a scab from one of my scars on my wrist. I hiss at the pain. I sit there, quietly, as I gaze out the window. The rain and the thunder continue to bang against the night sky. 10:58 PM... I looked at the clock near my desk and realize that I had been uselessly crying for the past five hours. I mentally slap myself for being pathetic and useless. 

I sigh to myself, wondering how life would be like if I hadn't existed at all... Everything would be calm. The kids at the old schools or possibly the orphanage would have no one to bully and so they'd stop bullying. Lee-hun and Ronnie would finally be able to make their future dream of having a family of their own and living in paradise come true. Maybe dad wouldn't have died in that car shooting if he hadn't decided to finally take me in - after that divorce - and drive his way to the orphanage to pick me up. Maybe mom wouldn't have gone to jail if she wasn't the one who shot dad in that very car shooting. Maybe they both wouldn't have been abusive in the first place. Maybe... just maybe...

... that killing myself wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.