|Huidawn|

•Hyojong•

Hyojong hated clichés. He especially hated how there was always a prince charming there to save the day, because in reality, there was no Prince Charming. Love was pointless and only ever gave way to pain.

Loving someone gave them much power over you. They could destroy you and never even love you back. It was dangerous, and it would never be worth it.

Maybe he hated love because he envied it.

Never once had anyone loved him, really.

His mother chose his brother over him. His father enjoyed taking out his anger on him.

He would move to a school and make a friend or two, but you can't hide the bruises forever. So they moved, again, and again, and again. And now they were in the busy city.

Hyojong hated highschool as well as love. He preferred staying in his small, empty room. School took him away from that.

And while he didn't have much there, he appreciated what he did have. He had books the librarian let him have them as they were worn out; Paper Towns, The Fifth Wave (1 and 2), The Outsiders, and a dictionary.

Of course he had his ten articles of clothing. His two pairs of sneakers, a beanie that kid in middle school gave him, and a Happy Feet blanket. He loved Happy Feet, and since he had a vhs TV it was pretty much all that he could watch.

He stayed in his room while he was home. If he left he would get yelled at, made fun of, or hit. The worst part was that his brother felt that it was okay. He grew up seeing everyone hate Hyojong. He must've decided it would be fun to join in. It was grueling to deal with it alone.

Hyojong could only eat at midnight. Unless he brought food into his room and kept it. That was usually cheap potato chips and crackers though. If he didn't eat at school that would be his diet. On days where school was canceled, most kids would cheer, but Hyojong would want to die.

He hated everything around him. But inside his room he could let go. And he'd spent most nights crying to sleep. But eventually, after he turned fourteen, he realized that no one was saving him. He was a worthless, broken soul destined to suffer for eternity.

So he hadn't cried since, no point when it resolved nothing.

But now he was sixteen. His parents had moved again. He was put into an even smaller room. And of course his brother and parents got two good rooms.
That was just how things worked for him.

He wrapped himself in his happy feet blanket. He'd gotten it because Woojin, his brother, said it was a stupid movie and that he hated it.

It was soft and cute and was the only thing that kept Hyojong warm through the nights. He sighed into the fabric as he awaited the dreadful start of tomorrow.

Word Count 452