don't chase the rabbit. (1)
Send me "Don't chase the rabbit" and your muse will be shown a random memory from my muse's past.
MARCH 4TH, 1991. LEE JUNHO AT FIVE YEARS OLD.
The memory was foggy, the mere details of it had been shrouded in the deep abyss of the brunet's mind. Nevertheless, it was still a prominent one. The feelings evoked from it, the fear that had stroked him at such a young age had made such a memory prominent.
It was around midnight and the Park household had been at it's quietest. The ran-down apartment that resided in the alleyways of the city was enveloped in pure darkness, save for the flickering light-bulb that illuminated ominously above the low wooden table. A young woman's face was highlighted by the artificial light's glow and every inch of her face was etched with concern and worry. Next to her, a man appeared, dragging something within his hands.
"We can't stay here any longer." A gruff voice had broke the silence, followed with a loud thud of an empty luggage being thrown upon the table, "Take only what you need, then we'll leave as soon as possible."
"But daddy," Junho whined, "I like our home." His whines had been met a pat on the head and then silence, alerting the young boy that this was matters not to be taken lightly. The adults dispersed, retreating their rooms as quick as their feet could take them, as the young boy stayed put to where he stood, a small pout forming on his lips. Indecisively, he walked to his shared room with his mom.
"Mommy, I don't wanna leave." He repeated and, to put emphasis on his statement, Junho had sat down. The young woman, upon her son's statement, gave a sigh, yet never took her eyes off the pile of clothes she was going to pack.
"We don't have a choice, sweetie..."
"But I don't wanna!" The little boy began kicking, hitting his heels against the creaky floorboards, "I wanna stay, mommy! I wanna stay!" The thuds could be heard throughout the darkened house and, at the ruckus, the father shouted.
"Junho!" The voice boomed from the next room, "Be quiet and listen!"
"But Daddy!" The little boy shrieked, now both distraught and alarmed, "I wanna stay, I don't wanna pack! I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go!" His voice raised an octave and, almost immediately, his mother shot out to comfort him, to quiet him, her clothing laid abandoned on the floor. While the little boy's mother tried to calm him down, his dad had still been packing, constantly reminding his wife to hurry up and calm their son down as quick as possible. When Junho's whines stilled and turned into simple, heavy, breathing a thunder of knocks was heard on the door.
Then everything turned silent.
"Open up, ya bastard!" It wasn't a voice that Junho had heard before. Confused with a sick sensation knotting within his stomach, the young boy looked up at his father. His father, though much of his face was shrouded by the dark, wore a grim expression. Junho felt his mother's arms tighten around him.
"Honey..." She whispered as the second wave of knocks began. The door creaked, hinges beginning to groan as the old wood rattled. At the sound of his love's voice, Junho's father snapped out of his pertrified trance.
"Take what you need and run through the back---Hurry, before they get in!" He commanded in a hush and the adults jetted, Junho being dragged by his mother's arms.
"Mo--"
"Not now, Junho." His mother's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. A bundle of his clothes were shoved into his hands before his mother pushed him away, "Go through the back."
"I don--"
"GO!" His mother suddenly snapped at him and, shaken up with fear and paranoia, the little boy had no other choice but to follow her words. He didn't want to go alone, he was terrified. The door was rattling, unknown voices screaming, shouting, cursing, a stream of crude and innapropriate words leaving from the raged men's lips. Junho tiptoed his way through the dark, the lone light above their low table flickering dangerously, as if it were to bust out any second....
And it did, the moment the front door gave out and a stream of burly thugs came into view. Before the house went completely dark, a shriek left Junho's lips and he turn and ran, towards the back door.
The rest of the memory was foggy, for the owner didn't know much of what happened after that. It happened in a flash, too quick for a young child to comprehend. He remembers the voices, his mother screaming for him, thinking that something happened to him, as she left her own room. A thud and his mother had dropped to the ground, unconscious. Torn between leaving the back door and running to his mother, Junho had begun to wail. He remembers the group of thugs wrecking the house, breaking anything, table included, that they saw. He remembers how silent his father was, up until a loan shark had found where Junho was hiding and grabbed him by the arm. He remembers the feeling of cold metal against his neck and the threat given to his father--
"Come out, Park, unless you don't mind your son having a gash through his throat."
He remembers how rancid the man's breath smelt, how it reeked of alcohol and other things the young boy had yet to known. He remembered, especially, how the man's grip tightened against him, the blade nearly piercing his skin, and he remembered how hard he began to cry.
"Daddy Daddy please help Daddy I'm scared he's going to hurt me," He remembers wailing, "Daddy!!! Mommy!! I don't wanna get hurt I don't wanna die Daddy Daddy Daddy!"
He remembers how much his head hurt from his screams, how coarse his throat felt but, more importantly, how the man holding him captive was laughing. More importantly, he remember how he felt the man's knife move--
"DADDY!"
Then, how his dad finally barged out of his room-- And then he remembered, how the man holding him threw him against the walll--- Everything turned black as he crumpled against the corner where he had nearly been knocked out-- But he clearly remembers, most vividly, the group of thugs rounding upon his father. The sound of metal hitting against something solid, a blood curling scream, red, and a semi-limp body being dragged out of the house--- And laughter.When he finally regained himself, he had been met with not the usual, dull yet cheerful atmosphere his family adorned. But, instead, Junho had been greeted with the heartbreaking image of his mother, sitting where she had been knocked out, crying.