I'm A Mess (Minsung) Detective x Serial Killer (COMPLETED)

Jisung's Past

WARNING: Mentions of abuse and self harm

"EOMMA! EOMMA DON'T LEAVE ME!" The nine year old boy cried and wailed as his mother packed her bags with a blank stare.

"You're staying here, Jisung...your father will take care of you." She answered, her voice monotone with no trace of love or sadness for leaving the boy whatsoever.

"I DON'T WANNA STAY WITH APPA, TAKE ME WITH YOU EOMMA PLEASE!" He tugged on her shirt helplessly, looking up at her with tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

"No, Jisung, you are staying here with your father, end of discussion. Now let me go." She speaks sternly, yanking her shirt out of the little boy's hands. She walks out to the hallway, her suitcase rolling along the floor with the boy toddling out behind her.

"Eomma please," Jisung plead, "take me with you please." He watched her open the front door with a shaky hand, looking back at him with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry Jisung, but I cannot afford to take you with me...you'll only make matters worse...goodbye my darling boy." She let a tear roll down her cheek as she shut the door behind her. The little boy sat down on his bottom on the floor, looking at the closed door.

"Eomma...come back...come back eomma...." He wailed with his eyes closed, his little heart breaking at the thought of his mother never coming back to get him.

The tears only lasted for a few minutes before he heard his father's angry footsteps coming in from the back door. Jisung wiped his teary eyes with his sleeves and stood up, not wanting to turn around to see his father's face.

"There's going to be some changes around here now that your mother's gone." Jisung didn't dare turn around. "Jisung, turn around and look at me." His father ordered. He turned around but did not look up at the man glaring down at him. "I SAID LOOK AT ME YOU WORTHLESS CHILD!" He boomed and slapped the boy, hard, across the face.

Jisung stumbled back but looked up timidly, a red mark making its appearance on his face but the boy's eyes did not fill with more tears. He was used to this. He was used to his father's abuse, his coming home drunk and beating Jisung senseless. Jisung wasn't the type to be hidden from men's ways of violence, his father's coworkers and employees joining in on the fun once in a while after his mother had gone.

They enjoyed beating him and assaulting him, touching him in places he didn't want them to touch. They thought it was fun, making the boy their own little plaything. Jisung lost his virtue at the age of twelve, the taker being one of his father's coworkers.

The more abuse he was given, the stronger he got. He thought he was invincible, in the way that someone could merely slap him and he could take it without fighting back.

The kids at school always talked about him, gossiped about why he had those bruises and cuts all over him, or why he couldn't afford lunch so he just sat in a lonely corner of the cafeteria. In high school, he thought people finally stopped pitying him.

And they did, but instead they called him an outcast, whispers of him being a monster and a freak roaming about the hallways. He often was bullied as well, mean boys dragging him into the hallway and beating him or calling him names until staff caught them.

Jisung developed many problems, ones that he could not cure himself, and eventually he let the darkness surround him. Cuts started to make themselves visible on his wrists, he even carried a razor blade with him in his backpack every school day. And every day was the same. Over and over again.

It had gone on for many years until Jisung turned seventeen. That's when the murders started. His father was his first target. It was a simple one for him. All he had to do was stab him in the back when his father was drunk and not looking. The moments afterwards were more memorable.

He remembered fake crying and pretending to be mute so that he wouldn't have to say anything. He remembered not talking to anyone. Until he met the kind eyes of a worried detective who was just merely doing his job. And something sparked inside Jisung. Something that he couldn't quite put his fingers on.

He never forgot the set of deep chocolate eyes that he looked into that night, the person's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. Those eyes were what kept him going. He continued the murders, he slaughtered all of his father's coworkers and employees until almost all of them were dead, hoping that someday he'd meet that person again. And little did he know that those set of eyes belonged to the one person he'd love--and hurt--the most.