𝒐𝒐𝒐. "I didn't write this to forget who I am as a person nor did I write it for money out of desperation. I wrote this because I know, one day, someone will find this story in the corner of a library, squeezed between forgotten stories with a dus...
Song Mingi. May 21st, 1980. | Wednesday, 7:00 PM. WARNING: Rape, mention of self-harm, and (minor) suicidal thoughts.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Mingi dragged his heavy feet towards the entrance of the school, his hands clenching onto his book-bag straps as he trudged inside. His head hung low, brown strands covered his gloomy eyes while his teeth chewed on his bruised bottom lip. His mother had advised him numerous times to stop chewing on his lip due to the bruises he creates, but he continues. She probably thinks he only harms his lips when there's so much more she doesn't know, and she doesn't need to know.
He tugged down the sleeves of his shirt, concealing all the flaws littered on his arms. Mingi's chest abruptly tightened, the sensation of emptiness crept within him, and he felt like weeping again like he always does when he gets home from school. Rushing up the stairs and locking his door before wailing into his pillows until he passes out and wakes up the next day to restart the same day all over again. However, he won't cry— Not here at least.
"Good morning, Mr. Song," A teacher said, grinning sadly as she held books in her arms. Mingi drifts his eyes up from the floor, deliberately walking past the teacher to peek at her face. Her grim smile lingered, sympathizing the younger with slender eyes filled with guilt. "Have a good day, Mr. Song."
He didn't respond to her, he didn't bother to give her a simple nod. Mingi only grimaced the moment she walked past him and glued his eyes back to the ground. Everyone doesn't know why Mingi is quiet, merely pitying the sad boy for a week with fake sorry's and false lies to boost the brunette's energy until it ends the very next week.
Of course, there were a few assholes who picked on Mingi for being so quiet and came off as an easy target, but his large build somehow worked wonders, causing them to never bother him again. Rumors spread about Mingi and his problems, claiming he'll be the first one to go, so it'll make no sense to be his friend. Some blamed him for what happened while others avoided him because of Mingi's horrid mental health.
No one wanted to deal with him, they didn't feel like befriending someone who wasn't like them. And, in the end, he was left alone. He was always left alone... It got to him sometimes, the occasional gazes out the school's window to watch students interact with one another with a loud laugh, a wide smile, and make beyond funny jokes with their friends.
He watched people cherish and laugh with someone important to them. Someone that he used to have... He scratched his wrists under his sleeves, they were beginning to feel itchy with a need. He knew why and he tried his best to ignore it because it wasn't the time, but it was hard.
He proceeded to drag his feet down the hallway, head lowered to avoid eye contact with any other teachers, and ignoring them whenever they greeted him. No one knows why he's the first student to be in the school's building, but no one questions it even if they tried. He simply pushes them away, keeping his mouth shut, ignoring everyone and everything; numbing himself to the point he didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted to disappear from the world.
