Garden of Fallen Angels {seongjoong} [COMPLETED]

-36-

In a town on the outskirts of the eastern coast, close to the ocean shore, a child was born to a very loving family. It was a son. The father and mother were delighted by their newborn. To them, he was the most beautiful baby. The child was blessed to be borne to such a caring household.

In a flash, six years had passed, and the child grew older. Unlike the other children his age, he grew wiser than them, able to read situations quickly and accurately. He knew when something was bad.

It was unfortunate, that this ability had come to good use.

Just a few months before his seventh birthday, his father lost his job. The constant income was gone. Instead of facing up to the reality, the man fell hard and ended up picking up many habits, and none of them were positive.

The last straw came a few days before the boy's birthday. The loving family that had once been was gone, replaced by two unknown strangers that yelled at each other every day.

Their child had a fantastic day at school, he had been praised by the teacher for doing well in the math test they had the day before, and he was eager to show his parents the paper and to tell them the commendation he received.

The school bus pulled away from the sidewalk and he waved at his friends till he couldn't see them as the bus drove on further and further until it was out of sight.

He turned around to face the building.

The house was dead quiet. Too quiet. Usually, when he came back home, the house would be bustling with angry shouts, piercing screams and tears. It was unnatural. Cautiously, he entered his home. It didn't feel like a home at that moment.

"Eomma! Appa!" he whispered.

"Eomma! Appa! Where are you?"

No answer.

He boosted his courage, and despite feeling that something was amiss, he ventured further into the house.

"Eomma! Appa! Where are you?" he continued whispering as he went through the corridor. His voice echoing down it, sending chills up his spine. The house had never felt so sinister.

He entered the kitchen.

"Eomma! Appa! Where-" his voice cut off.

His mother lay on the ground in front of the refrigerator, her usually impeccably clean blouse and skirt stained red with blood. Her eyes and mouth were wide open in shock, and the arms and legs were starting to grow stiff from rigor mortis. And standing over her, with a knife stained red with both blood and dried blood, was his father.

Despite his wife already being dead, the man continued to stab the body over and over and over. Revelling in the bloodlust and watching the constant streams of red liquid spurt out from her body. The look in his eyes showed a person who had lost all control, taken over and controlled by the constant drinking and usage of drugs.

That whole time, the child stood there, shaking in extreme terror with tears running down his face in torrents. His mother was dead. His father killed her. It was hard to believe, but it was the truth. The harsh truth.

He turned to leave, to run away. To never come back to this once called home. But to his accursed luck, the man looked up at that moment, and saw the child, cowering.

The taller male stood up, lifting the knife up from his last stab, and stalked towards the boy. The child regained control of his limbs and ran off down the corridor. Outwardly, this person might look like his father, but internally that loving dad was gone. Just the shell of the man he used to be. He had never seen his appa look at him with such hatred. It was terrifying.