Under Noirwood | Vminkook ✓

Sixteen: Family Comes First

A/N: So today I wore my Cooky shirt to school

and nobody recognized it or commented on it.

Saw some people staring at it though...?

Hmmmmm...

hahah ! I hope your day is beautiful like you, amazing reader!

:)

_IZZY_

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Jimin brushed his fingertips against the cold walls. His trips to visit his father's spot in his "lab" weren't as frequent as they used to be. When the white-haired male was first changed into a half-demon, he would spend hours speaking with his dad about coping, regulating his powers, and finding purpose in his new self.

"You're a killer." His father would say to him. "You were born to kill for me."

And in an odd sense, Jimin accepted that. He felt proud doing what came easy to him, felt at peace in the strange niche of murdering for his father's growing collection. Initially, he had no idea what the corpses he brought back regularly were for. 

"Why do you need all of these people? And why am I only targeting the strong, healthy ones?" Jimin had asked when the killings began. "Why don't I get rid of the weak ones, the scum, the child molesters or evil-doers-"

"Everyone is an evil-doer, Jimin. In their own unique way. If you start getting sentimental about your kills or feel sympathy for these people, I can take it all away from you in a second."

The words burned painfully behind Jimin's red eyes, bouncing throughout his memories like hot coals. Being a stone-faced killer like his father was not hard for him to do. He was capabable, skilled, and trustworthy. That's how most ignorant people fell victim to him anyway.

But it pained him. Deeply. Immensely. How naive and hopeful people were when he treated them kindly.

Do you need help moving that firewood?

May I help you get your child out of that tree, ma'am?

Are you in pain? I know a medic not too far away...

Do you want my advice? Follow me...

The countless lies he had spoken in the hopeful ears of innocents made him gag. The looks on their faces when he would remove the disguise that hid his true, ugly self. The screams that rang out in his nightmares as they caught sight of his red eyes--the way their necks snapped easily under his cold palms.

It was haunting.

But he couldn't stop. No, Jimin couldn't stop hunting for people at night because his father would hunt him. Would hunt Lucio.

So, every night, he put on his mask before leaving the crypt to kill. Returning with another pale, lifeless body, and a growing urge to run. To flee. But he knew he couldn't. His father would always find him in the end.

*     *     *

One particular gloomy night years ago, Jimin tried to run with Lucio out of the grasp of his controlling father. They were headed south, the red-haired boy clinging tightly to Jimin's back as he ran over miles of terrain. The wind whipped tirelessly at their faces. 

"Why...why are we running from grandpa?" Lucio whispered in Jimin's ear. The tears from the small boy traced wet lines down the back of Jimin's neck.

"Because, Lucio...it's not safe there." Jimin was struggling to hold his own tears back. "It-it isn't the right place for us-"

"But won't...grandpa...miss us?" Tiny, shaking hands clasped around Jimin's black coat.