He's So Innocent

Accusations(1)

Han Jisung loved his mother. She was a reasonable woman, with strong morals and goals like anyone else. Except she saw her goals, and got to reach them, something Jisung had always admired about her.
The boy sat in the dark of his room. He fiddled with a curling picture that his mother developed with their old camera. They were never the family to have new things, and Jisung's mother loved photography, even having their very own developing dark room in their home.
The picture was of Jisung and Mother taken by his father. The image was slightly blurred from a low shutter speed and was black and white and vintage. It made Jisung smile.
There was a pounding at his door and Jisung stood up to answer it.
The door swung open to reveal a tall man with dark glasses. He pushed them further up his nose and smirked.
"Agent Yang," he introduced, "I'm here for the last paperwork from the bank and then you have to leave."
Oh right.
Jisung dropped the picture on the floor. He nodded quickly to the agent and scrambled past him to the kitchen. He tore through the drawers and pulled out a paper. A paper signed by his father that gave up the house to the government.
Oh right.
He shoved the paper wordlessly into the agents arms and walked past again to go back to his room.
"Sir, you cannot stay here," he called after Jisung.
"I know," he whispered to himself, "I just need some time."
he picked up the small tinged photo off the floor and looked at his mother. She was smiling with a silky bunny headband on that Jisung had bought for her birthday. He had an ice cream cone in his hand and red mark on his neck.
They looked happy, but Jisung remembered the birth of that red mark. And the hand that came with it. How his father strangled him for not obeying. How his father threatened to give his mother one just like it.
Oh right.
His father.
The very same man that left him a week ago, claimed the house, everything, and left his only son to die.
A single tear ran down the boy's face as his fingers thrummed on the picture. He tore it in two and thrusted it into the trash.
Jisung stood up and started to grab his backpack and duffel. He threw sweatpants and jeans and hoodies and t-shirt's into any space available. He didn't care anymore. If his father wanted him dead then so be it.
"Goodbye hell," he said quietly, not looking back as he left the threshold of the house.
He did raise a hand, however, a silent salute to his old life. A middle finger. A 'fuck you' to his father.
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a/n; hi everyone I'm brookline and this is my first story I will actually finish! it's a fun one. the first chapter may seem boring but the plot thickens soon. I just had to clarify what was going on.

I love uuu