𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔢
Date: 31/01/19
Word Count: 990 words
Trigger Warnings: Past Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Physical Abuse, Blood, Maybe Depression
Content: Alyssia’s inspiration to be an idol has never been the glorified honour and riches bestowed alongside with the idol title. Ironically, as much as she tries to avoid being associated with it, her inspiration and motivation to be one as always been her cruel father.
No one knows this, but when bc first approached her to become a trainee, she had rejected the notion to ever become one.
Why?
Because the answer was bloody fucking simple. She didn’t have the money. Or whatever it took to be an idol.
Maybe its because she felt she didn’t have the will, or the competitive spirit to survive in a place she clearly knew would chew her up and spit her out carelessly if she failed to meet their aspirations and visions for her.
Or just maybe because that she was just so fucking afraid of failure.
That word always did loom over her head like a bloody curse after all. She heard it in the pitying eyes of her teachers, who heard about her plight and yet did nothing about things, of the disdain in the other girls who refused to associate themselves with her, and last but not least, the predator like eyes of her very own father, whose foul breath lingered in the confines of her living quarters, whose sweaty arms always encased her like a constricting boa—
It happened again tonight.
She knows this from the ever familiar scream of her muscles in her body, the ache in her loins and the disgusting smell of filth that just makes her wants to retch and scrub her skin till there’s nothing left.
Its probably gotten worse.
She exhales lightly as she cleans off the makeup from her face, the yellowing bruises and purpled markings dotting her collarbone, and smudging her pretty face like an angry patchwork of a terrible quilter.
Her father had heard that someone had approached her in the alley.
“Did they fuck you?” His words slither around her ears like a poisonous snake. “Did they touch you? Did you let them touch you? If you ever leave here, you can forget about coming back ever again. So, Soyeon—did you agree to whatever they said?”
Did you?
Did you?
ANSWERMEDIDYOU
She doesn’t remember anything after that. Or refuses to remember—actually.
She has a feeling that it’d probably hurt far too much to actually remember, so everything is just hidden away, stashed like a crumpled old newspaper in the corner of an abyss.
Its for the best. She comforts herself. Its what works.
But it actually isn’t.
The person that scouts her is waiting for her at the gates of her school again, with a bright smile on his face, and such a hopeful look in his eyes that Soyeon physically cringes, and has to duck into an alleyway to crumple into herself.
The school bell rings, and she watches from the corner of the alley as the person’s face drops, and his feet moves away.
A part of her screams for him to stay—because whether she likes it or not, he’s the only ticket and way out of her own misery. But she has to return home after this, and she doesn’t have the courage to defy the monster that lurks within her house, the king that rules with an iron fist and hurts her flesh every chance that it gets.
She returns home, despondent and dazed—and nothing changes.
Insomnia comes like the worst blow later on that night, because it means having what her father does to her imprint itself on her memory like a broken tape recorder without having the liberty to blackout and stash it away.
Does she want to continue living like this?
She locks herself in the bathroom while he slumbers, her heart pounding in her chest as the light from her phone sears her eyes.
BC Entertainment.
She spends the entire night feverishly researching on the company, and pulling up past auditions and anything she can find that would just help her possibly succeed.
She doesn’t tell her father, but her best clothes are packed in her unusually large school bag, the money that he kept in the piggy bank all taken out—it’s a good few hundred dollars, good enough for a child like her to sustain herself for at least a month or so, she naively thinks.
Her bruised face is made up perfectly again, and she finds herself looking out of the window constantly for a shadow of that male scout again.
She’s usually not that lucky, but it must be luck and fate that he finds her all over again, right in the same alley where they first met.
“Did you think over what I said?” He extends a hand to her, holding out the shiny card with his right hand. “I know it’s a lot to think about but—”
“I know it’s a risk, but I’ll take it.”
She doesn’t know what happens when her father finds out about her theft, or when he finds out she never returns even after going missing for one or two days.
But its only because she’s been accepted by bc as a trainee. She’d make sure he never finds her—even if it means disclosing the torrid details of her past to her terrible company. Even if it means doing whatever it takes to fulfil what they desire of her. Even if it means—being someone other than who she truly is.
Its an ironic detail that she realises years later, when she looks back on her past in the darkness of the night, a glass of wine in hand and a success in the entertainment industry, the question of the day from the mc that had got her freezing in place ringing through her mind.
“What motivated you to become an idol, Alyssia-shi?”
She shatters the glass of wine with a scream against the wall, the red stains of the wine pooling onto her marbled floor like a puddle of blood as she covers her face and sinks into her own misery.
She doesn’t have a glorifying answer like others have. Hers is simple, and yet so so self-destructive.
Its my Father.