the boy with the dragon tattoo - yoonmin

chapter thirteen

Yoongi lay crumbled at the bottom of his basements concrete staircase. It was his basement, because he was the only living thing that was ever inside it. Sometimes, on the occasion, he'd find a cockroach or hear the pitter latter of a rats feet across the floor, but that was rare. Nothing wanted to be down there, not even them. Yet, somehow, even though in his pristine house of white and marble where the basement was foul and dirty in comparison, yoongi never hated it as much as the rest of the house. Maybe it was because when he was down there he was mostly left alone. The maids and other such household helpers never stepped foot in the place, and when yoongi was down there myungdae was turned away at the door like he never usually was. The drawback being of course that whenever he was down there it was because he was too injured, too hurt, to be seen anywhere else. Lest, of course, his blood and dirt and grime fester and ruin any other part of his fathers beautiful house.

Yoongi wondered if it was fucked up that sometimes he wished his father would beat him so badly he would get thrown down there, just for a few days of peace. A few days spent in starvation and pain, but uninterrupted and wonderfully lonesome. He wondered sometimes whether what he thought to be his craving for being left alone was actually just his craving to get away.

In his whole thirteen years of life, yoongi had wanted to just be alone. Despite being in a huge house with only his father and him to occupy the space, it still felt too crowded. His father just took up so much room, it felt as if yoongi himself was constantly being squeezed into a corner. Not in the physical sense either, his father wasn't an elephant, but in the sense of his presence being so large, so formidable, it just shrunk anyone close to him.

Maybe that was why yoongi had stopped growing.

Yoongi feels like he should laugh at his stupid joke, but he can't because his ribs and chest hurt so much he's scared if he does his insides will burst. What a sight that would be. He can't imagine his father really caring if he were to open up the basement door and look down the staircase he had thrown his sons body down only an hour prior, (yoongis bony body had made a strange clop clop clang sound as it hit each step, like a horse walking on creaky hardwood), to see it splattered spectacularly over the floor and walls and steps like a modernists artwork. Or perhaps a badly fired firework. Maybe his father would scowl at the mess, or show no expression at all, or maybe he'd just frown and look disappointed like he'd expected yoongi to last longer.

Whichever it may be, yoongi would pay all the money he has to just see his father frown, in the way the movies always depict when someone's loved one dies. All dramatic crying and collapsing to knees and bawling into hands, rocking back and forth and why oh why not my son not my only son! Just to see his father look at him with something other than distain, would be nice. But yoongi supposes that'll happen when pigs fly.

Because, well, not an hour before he was unceremoniously chucked down hard concrete steps like he was a piece of trash his father desperately wanted to get rid of, was he under the foot of said father. Bearing the brunt of his anger that he never seemed to really show on his face in the form of a hard soled foot to the chest and stomach and face, and well, anywhere his fathers foot could kick, really. He had punched a bit too, but his kicks were always the worst. Especially when his silver toed boot made rounds on yoongis face and that tender part in the centre of his chest that was always bruised no matter what he did. It made him spit blood everywhere whenever his father got that part of his body, makes him spew it up like it was poison. Yoongi had realised that when his father kicked or hit that part of his chest his blood came out dark maroon, almost brown, but when his father fit his face it was fresh and lively, like tomato sauce or jam. It hurt in equal amounts though, whoever it was, and no matter how many times he screamed and cried and begged his father to stop he never did. Yoongi had tried to crawl away, but his father had just dug his heel into the back of his hand as it desperately tried to drag his body down the hall, and twisted it until yoongis skin broke and he practically howled in pain.