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...
Park Seonghwa. June 18th, 1980. | Wednesday, 8:15 AM. WARNING: Abuse, homophobic slurs.
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Glass shatters on the ground near Seonghwa's leg, resulting in a grunt in pain when a piece of glass penetrated the palm of his hand as he tried to lift himself off of the floor. "You—" He draped his arms over his face when another bottle went soaring from the direction of his intoxicated father.
The screaming hasn't ceased for fifteen minutes, the wild shatters of glass grew closer as Seonghwa attempted to crawl his way towards the front door. He clenched his book-bag in his bloody hands as he strived to stand up on his unsteady legs.
This morning, he made the mistake of coming downstairs to leave for school, not checking to see if his father was home. Honestly, he didn't think he'd be awake at this time, thinking he'd be slung over a couple of cans in his drool and vomit. However, the minute his father laid his eyes on Seonghwa, who was grabbing an apple, resentment exploded within the elder man's eyes, snatching a nearby bottle and hurled it against the wall by Seonghwa's arm.
Leftover beer splattered all over the wall, and even some landing on the frightened boy's white t-shirt. He took a step back from the kitchen, not wasting a single minute to make a run for it upstairs, but he was too slow. "I-I'm sorry! I'll go back upstairs— Please, stop!" Seonghwa cried, pressing his back against the wall of the hallway, away from the kitchen and the living room where his father stood, shouting rougher than before. "J-Just let me go upstairs!"
His father didn't respond, he never does when he's like this, only hurling things at the blonde, murmuring incoherent things, and screaming at the top of his lungs to the point the neighbors bang on the door to tell them to shut up. This side of his father terrified Seonghwa the most, where he'd grab anything close and toss it at him until it eventually hits Seonghwa, inflicting him to plummet on the ground.
Sometimes, it'll leave a bruising mark somewhere on his body, while other times, he'll fall knocked out cold. The blonde felt his heart pound harder in his chest, his ears ringing in apprehension when he felt the heavy footsteps move close in his direction. His father muttered illogical words as he dragged a brown, broken chair behind him with a crushed can in hand.
'He has the chair!' Seonghwa's eyes dilated as he covered his mouth with his bloody hand, smearing the blood on his lips as he swallows down a sob. He squeezed his eyes closed, shoving himself harder against the wall in hopes it'll swallow him whole; rather, he yearned any type of blessing that would happen at this moment so his father could drop dead.
Though, instead of dropping dead, his father's murmuring has come to a sudden end when an audible thud fell on the ground followed by the wooden chair. Seonghwa panted heavily behind his hands as he counted to fifty, feeling his vision blur with tears before he collected the strength to peek behind the corner.
