(Completed) Officer/Yoonmin

018

"Shut up and go to your room faggot!!" My verbally abusive father said to me drunkenly today. I reply with a yes sir, and I immediately run to my room, closing the door gently behind me, locking it.

I was currently living with my crappy father and crybaby brother. I hated him. I hated how he would always cry at the littlest things, like how he accidentally broke a flower stem, or how he accidentally spilled water, he was a literal crybaby.

Not surprised on how my father hit him instead of yelling at him like he did with me.
Though he was annoying.

I was only 9, while my brother was 8.
My father would take my brother out on trips, trying to change how cried at everything, but he always came back crying, which got him a beating.

Even though he was annoying, I tired to help him, though it didn't always work. Since my father would never hit me, I would try to protect him in some way, yet my father always ended up getting his way.

The reason he never hit me was because I was mother's favorite, even though she left us for a better life in Japan.

My dad loved her, but showed his love in toxic ways, breaking her own love for him, and she left. Although I was her favorite, she didn't love me enough to take a burden from her past with her, me and Y—— were mistakes.

But then, Park Jimin moved in next door. He had two loving parents, and I was jealous. Though his beauty distracted me away from my jealousy.

I adored him, and I wanted to protect him from the harsh realities of life.
He made friends with brother, and I was kinda proud that my brother didn't cry the entire time he was with Jimin, he was his coping mechanism.

All three of us would hang out together, but it was mostly ——— and Jimin since they were closer in age.

I remember a photo we all took, taken by Jimin's mom, where we were all standing next to each other.
Jimin's arm was slung around me, ice cream cone in his other. He was smiling widely, face full of ice cream.

I only had a curve on my lips,  staring at the camera with dead eyes, a few drops of ice cream on my face while my cone was empty.

Then on the other side of Jimin, was my brother. He was also smiling widely, face full of ice cream like Jimin's, cone gone as he ate that with his ice cream.

His arm was around Jimin, but he had his other hand in the air, palm wide open as it showed off two words that he had written.

Help me, were the words. He may have done it unconsciously, but Jimin and his parents didn't see it, though I did. I didn't talk about it, knowing where he was coming from already.

There was only one picture, so they gave it to us, saying Jimin already has plenty of pictures already.

We thanked them, and went inside, thought what came tomorrow would scar me.

It was the day of Jimin's parents murder, but I didn't know that.
Today my father took my brother out, but he had a gun, rope, and matches.

I didn't care, but I was curious.
I looked after them as they left, but what raised my suspicion more was that they went next door.

I grabbed my fathers left phone and called 119, knowing the police would arrive by the time they were finished, but I didn't care.

Once I was done I deleted it from his cell history, and I went to investigate.
I couldn't see, but could only hear.
My blood boiled when I hear I had three sisters, none that I knew about.

They were all 7 when they were killed, ten years back before me and ——— were born.
I then heard the conversation, my heart stopping.

I heard gunshots, and I knew who it was, who killed them. I ran home and went to my room, getting a trash bag and packing what little stuff I had. I soon run to my father's room where he keeps his spare stash of money for important business.

I then here footsteps and fire, and I knew I had to leave. I didn't care for my brother anymore, for he just killed somebody.

I left and ran. I ran and ran and ran, until I reached the police station. I didn't rat my brother out, but I did my father, being fed up with him for so long.

My brother and I were put into the same foster system, but I hated my brother. I hated him for being weak, I hated him for being a wimp, I hated the fact that he wasn't mother's favorite.

And that same day we got there, I slapped him. I had no words to say, but he knew what I meant.

And he never cried again.

•••

Lynn~~