Her tears don’t need to be shed to know how they'd taste on her tongue.
There’s a Ping-Pong game going on in her mind, behind her blank gaze, where she’s slipping then finding feet again and stumbling, slipping, stumbling, standing. It never stops and with it comes the incessant sound of a ball being hit back and forth without any ideas of when it will finally be dropped or land.
It’s this feeling of instability where even the thickest of threads keeps slipping through her thin fingers. Where even the most solid ground just shatters and breaks under her light footprints, leaving her falling down the hole that seems to appreciate her much more than she does.
It’s cold, gradually gravitating to a chill weather that sinks under her skin and clutches her bones, so tightly that she quickly wraps her arms around her, to no avail, it won’t stop crushing her bones, cracking them and leaving her whimpering in pain but swallowing the sounds that wants to escape her dry lips.
So she stops rubbing her arms, because her skin starts cackling and if it starts falling then she might start crying, but if she cries, her tears might turn icy enough to pull her eyes out. The gloominess of the situation hits her, but she can’t help the little hysterical laugh that also leaves her tight throat, is this how it’s going to end?
In the cold of the winter, in a hole with nothing but snow covering her, the skin of her body turning white and peeling off, her lips thinning accompanied by the sound of her teeth shuddering against each others in this cackling noise that keeps her aware of the fact that she’s slowly fading away as the sounds grows weaker.
If this is how it ends, at least, she should be able to pretend like she’s been doing so well for the past years. Why is it that she could keep up with appearances her entire life and laying there, lost and not sure of when her heart will finally stop beating, she can’t even pretend that she’s happy she’ll be gone tonight.
She wished for it, didn’t she?
She sat and wished for something to take her away no matter how painful it might be, it couldn’t possibly be worse than now, and every time she found herself awake the next day, with this sinking realization that her soul’s not lost, her body’s still warm and her heart’s steady heartbeats are as normal as they were before she fell asleep yesterday.
It’s not morning right now though, it’s probably past midnight at least it has to be close to morning, because the sky wouldn’t be able to tell much but she knows at what time she left the house.
She could hear the robotic sound of the grandfather’s clock her step-dad brought back with him from one of his numerous business trips, when she stepped out with nothing but a shirt and a pair of jeans that she knew wouldn’t help her against the cold.
It wasn’t an experiment this time, it wasn’t even on purpose; she just stormed out because she needed air.
She needed to stop their voices yelling above her head and deafening the sound of the music that kept playing in her ears. Even her earplugs weren’t enough this time, so she didn’t think of anything when she ran down the stairs and slammed the door behind her.
It’s only when she got so far she realized she lost her way that she thought about it, maybe this could be her time, she could finally let go and the cold made it so easy to not think about anything else but the way it bit through her skin.
She thought about it as she walked down a road, her instinctive reactions to shelter herself against the cold with her arms wrapped around herself, useless with the amount of clothing she had on.
Then in a clear moment of lucidity she looked up at the sky and there were no stars, no moon, just this dark blanket and nothing but her eyes staring up at it, no noises, no voices, not even a cricket rejoicing the night and she thought about the emptiness that was to come if she let it take over.
She might have hesitated then, maybe the night felt it, her hesitation crawling up her mind and her legs taking her back on her tracks. Did it hear her fear of being swallowed whole by nothingness; did it hear the way her mind suddenly filled with apprehension as to what would come later?
Nothing she could be sure of.
But the moment she hesitated that’s when she found herself in this hole, and now there was no turning back, now maybe this is a good thing, maybe peace is what she’s feeling right now. The pain might just be the way it’ supposed to go, a sort of punishment for being scared at the last minute.
It helps relax, when she thinks about the pain as the last thing she’ll feel with this body before nothing starts appearing, before the lethargy. No one really could tell her what death is like, no matter how many researches she did on it, she didn’t get anything, nothing, not even if it’s dark or bright or if it’s awful.
Right now though, she can’t think of anything but what’s approaching.
Eagerly feeling lighter the moment her arms flails at her sides, her legs giving in and slumping in the wet patch the snow’s made with her body heat, diminishing as well. The air she tries to breathe gets stuck in her throat, thick and makes her cough, till her eyes starts slowly drifting close, tired of holding up.
Her whole body goes numb and her heartbeat weakens, the air she’s still unconsciously trying to suck in doesn’t reach her lungs.
"Find something to do, will you, because at this rate you keep going downhill, don't do things you know you will regret." Those words were often so easily out of his father's mouth and Myungsoo might understand them, but it didn't mean he knew how to relate to them.
It wasn't like he didn't know the others always said those kind of things in his back, though he never ever saw the need to blatantly shove the wealth his family had in anyone's faces, but that was how he'd been raised, in the luxury, shamelessly.
But it never really mattered until he started to lose interest in what was waiting for him at the end of graduation. A life like the one his father and his grandfather and many other men in their family generation had been asked to keep intact with the president position at a family business that just kept growing.
It wasn't the words of others that got to him, it was what his eyes saw by themselves. As cliché as it might sound when he tries to explain it, it was just a sudden emptiness that couldn't find anything strong enough to fill all the right spots.
Nothing ached, nothing throbbed, it was just dull.
A monotone routine such as being born, being pampered, given everything he ever needed and maybe even more than needed, just for him to follow after graduation into a field that he didn't choose, didn't know if it was meant for him.
While fate is something he never truly believed in, still what a pretty boring life would that be, to have everything handed to you until the day you die, never having to work for something that he cherishes.
It wasn't made for him, that's what he realized.
#
He wanted to do something he'd have pleasure doing until the day he is forced to quit, he wanted to get everything with his own effort, he wanted to feel a bit more free, but he didn't know how. So as he grew restless, nervous and angry he started hating most of the things that made him realize how he didn't have anything to fight for, to live for.
His father seemed to love waking up, getting in a suit, holding his suitcase and walking out of the house with a smile on his face if it was going to be a good day at work, and even when the day was bad, he still always found a way out of it with a more positive outlook on the world.
His mother was the one who kind of understood him a bit, but that didn't mean he understood himself what he had to do to get past this phase where he didn't know where to go. This uncertainty about where his future would go, where he would be, why and when, would he ever find it if he had something to find?
"You're still young, you'll figure it out with time." She told him once when he asked her about how he was supposed to know what was the right thing to do.
Well truth be told, he's eighteen, in his last year and he still hasn't figured anything. All he's done for an entire year is try to ruin everything that's been built around him. He doesn't mean to also hurt the people he hurt in the process, but it's comprehensible that his parents would be sad to see his grades drop, or see him get home late at night with bruises that they'd never seen before.
It's understandable that even his mother looks at him now with this sort of disappointment that makes him swallow the lump in his throat and hurry upstairs to his room so he doesn't let her get closer to him with that expression.
Until he finds what it is he wants, until he's sure he's not going to lose himself in a life he will regret, he won't stop trying to ruin all the pieces and if at the end of it all, there's nothing to be left, then nothing shall be left. It's his life, if he has to regret hurting others in the process, then so be it.
That's what kept him going, knowing the consequences of failing most of the things he knew he could be great at if he tried. It's just, when he would do that, break the rules that were tying him, somehow the emptiness would be forgotten.
Feeling the soreness of his fists after a first hit is such a rush of adrenaline that swirls his mind with nothing but the blood rush until he gets hit too and somehow, during a fight, he could understand why it's so easy to become a murderer.
There's nothing but this satiety once he's hurt purposefully, nothing but the beats of his heart stopping at the moment his thoughts disappear, the moment he stops thinking about the blank line that's waiting him in the future.
This kind of mind blowing sensation, he doesn't mind having it.
It's not the same type of uncertainty, the one he gets once he's started a fight or started to break another rule, is just not knowing if he will be caught or not, if he will lose or not, if he will go back home or not, that uncertainty makes him feel alive, like he's living for a reason.
#
Until, before he even has the time to realize it, it's become a necessity, an addiction more than anything else and it's not about forgetting or trying to find a purpose anymore, it's all about the pleasure, his sanity slipping away and his mind being eaten every time he goes closer to numbness.
It climbs from a fight per day, to two per day, to three per day until he doesn't count anymore, he just does it, until fighting isn't even so great anymore, until fighting is just second nature, until there's no need for his fists anymore, until his words too start hurting everyone close to him.
Until his mom raises her hand on him after an argument and he can't believe it's gotten this far.
When he runs out of the house without paying attention to her voice, he knows he's being a coward, he's not right here, he's in the wrong, of course he knows that, it doesn't stop his cheek and his heart to throb with this new found revelation.
He does it then, he empties his mind and walks aimlessly until his legs ache and he has to stop, panting softly at first until the pain pierces through his chest again and there are tears stinging the back of his eyes, then it's blurry.
His father's voice echoes in his mind and the resonating slap against his cheek, keeps replaying over and over again until the blurriness fades, his jaw tightening as he blinks, closes his eyes, opens them and that's when he finds himself.
His eyes fall on the store he sees when he opens his eyes and he enters, doesn't know what to expect, but is more than surprised when he steps out of it, holding a camera around his neck and making his way back home.
#
His mother's crying when he gets back home and his father looks both angry and sad, Myungsoo hangs his head low, takes his shoes off as he steps inside and walks straight to where his mother's standing, then his steps slows as he hears her sobs.
It's hard, really hard until his fingers tighten on the camera around his neck and he's never used one before, he's not sure how it even works, but he knows how to turn it on and how to take a shot so when she looks up at him, teary eyes, he looks down, ashamed and looks at her through the lenses.
It clicks, it surprises her and takes that precedent expression off her face, and that's when he looks up before taking a deep breath in and he strides to her, holding his arms out at the same time as she does so and embracing her so tight he might be crushing her bones, but she holds on just as tight and that's more than enough.
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