The Origins of MC

Chapter One

The sharp, crisp air danced through my curtains, becoming the very alarm that woke me up. My legs pulled me out of bed, my mind urging me to close my window. "MC!" My body shivered at the sound. It was too early for this. 

It was too early for me to have done anything wrong.

"MC!" My door jolted open. The woman standing in my doorway looked at me in disgrace, disgust, as if I was a delinquent child that tore her world apart. "Where is Seung?" 

"You mean four? Why would I know?" I threw a brown turtle neck sweater over my head, letting my brown hair lay upon my back. "Seung is your brother. That's why. He didn't come home last night, did he?" 

"Chillax, old hag. I am right here." My brother laid in the doorway with his arms crossed. My heart settled, looking at his hazel eyes. "Why are you yelling at MC? She's not responsible for me." His sarcastic attitude made me snicker underneath my breath. "She is your sister. I expect she watch over you."

"You know, with that logic, it would only make sense that our mother would look after both of us! So, mom, why haven't you been looking after us? Hm?" Seung towered over our mother, his brown hair barely touching her bangs. All my mother could do was walk past him, only to turn back and mutter the words, "Get ready for school. I want both of you gone in ten minutes." She closed the door behind us. Seung and I looked at each other and began to laugh. "Man, you always get her good, Four!"

"Hey, now, no one messes with my little sister." Our mother was never kind to us. She worked for a decently big company and didn't want to be bothered with children. You can imagine how unfortunate it was when she found out she was pregnant with twins. The plan was to give us to our father, an artist who wanted a family, but something happened to him. Something me nor my brother knew. We heard he was a humble and kind man. He donated to many charities, told stories with his paintings. If I had one wish in the whole world, it would be to see one of his paintings. My mother never told us his name; she refuses. She says his name "shall not be spoken in this household." What a pitiful excuse for a parent. Seung is the only reason why I can live with that woman. He lightens the mood, stands up for me.  I don't know what life would be like without him, nor do I want to think about it. 

"May I ask why you want me to call you 'Four' all of a  sudden?" It's been about two months since he has asked for me to eradicate his name from my vocabulary. "I told you already, MC. That is classified information." I glared at him. What was so classified that he couldn't tell his twin sister why he wants his name changed to a number. A NUMBER! "You don't have to call me 'Four.'" He snickered underneath his breath. "You can also call me '404' or 'Error' or '404 Error'!" 

"Seriously? I am not going to keep calling you '404' or 'Error.' You will always be Seung to me. Period." He rolled his head back and laughed, leading me to laugh with him. No matter what Seung and I had gone through, whatever the scenario may have been, we could always make each other laugh. He always told me it was 'twin tendencies.' Whatever that meant.

The leaves danced below our feet as we approached our 'educational building,' or as my brother calls it, 'torture for the average Korean.' "Welp! This is where we part ways, solider. Remember to stay strong, keep fighting, and never ever stop believing in your beliefs!" 

"'Never ever stop believing in your beliefs'? You sound ridiculous. Also, 'solider'? Am I going into battle?"

"Of course! Where else do you think you are going?! You are fighting for your life for god knows how long~."

"Nine hours."

"God knows how long!" I took a heavy sigh as I watched my brother walk away. We both took totally different classes from each other. He always had an interest in computers, technology, coding, you know, the nerdy stuff. As for me, I had an interest in art. Generic, I know, but I do enjoy all types of art. I think in particular I love music. Besides Seung, my escape from the world is placing my hands on a beautiful piano. Letting my heart and fingers take over, letting my mind only speak in musical notes. However, there is an issue with me and music. I suffer from extreme social anxiety. It is like there is a whole force in my head that refuses to let me speak. Like I am in a cage locked up by no one other than myself. I am not able to express how I feel without feeling this weight in my stomach. It's almost as if I want to scream, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. It is the worse torment not to be able to say what is on your mind, not to be able to stand up for yourself. Everyone walks all over you like you are a welcome doormat, but they won't stop there. They will wipe their dirty, musty shows on you. Stomp on you to get snow out as it melts so deep into you that you feel the cold left from the soles of their shoes, and you have to just sit there. You have to sit there and let it happen to you because you are just a doormat.