-warning: this is that graphic violence part i mentioned-

--

Two months before Hyungwon's eighteenth birthday, and everything falls apart. He's been perfectly, disgustingly obedient this whole time, but he's had a reason. Mi-Yeon. He could be brave for Mi-Yeon. He could be strong.

But when he comes home from school that day, Father and Mi-Yeon are in the kitchen, and Father has his arm around her shoulders, laughing as they work on a coloring book.

"You said you wouldn't touch her," Hyungwon says, and he's hit with the horrible realization that Father had never intended on keeping his promise and that these past few months – these horrible, demoralizing, dehumanizing months – have been for nothing. He has not prevented what he set out to prevent; he has only cast himself further into the abyss.

"Hyungwon," Father says, looking over at him with a smile. "You're home a little early, aren't you?" He looks down at Mi-Yeon with that same smile, and if Hyungwon didn't know what sickening things Father could do, he might've believed it to be sincere. "Well, Mi-Yeon? Do you want to tell your big brother what we're working on?"

Mi-Yeon looks up, her face lighting up when she sees Hyungwon. She's so excited that she even drops her crayon, and Hyungwon's heart aches as the orange crayon rolls off the table and falls to the floor. He loves Mi-Yeon and yet there's a part of him that resents her because she is all that holds him back from disappearing entirely. But how could he possibly hate the little girl who's holding up a piece of paper to show him the orange flower she's been working on all afternoon?

"Father says I have to stay inside the lines," Mi-Yeon is explaining to him even as Hyungwon just stares at her, on the precipice of breaking apart. "So I tried really hard. I messed up a little over here-" She points to the affected area. "But that was the only place. I'm going to finish it and then you can hang it up in your room, Hyungwon!"

Hyungwon doesn't know what to say.

When he was a boy, he received gifts. A shiny red bicycle. Toy soldiers. A handheld game. But all of these gifts had been for one purpose – to make Hyungwon trusting and compliant so that he would allow Father to reap his body, over and over again.

And now here is a girl, offering him a drawing, and she wants nothing in return.

Hyungwon is so broken that it doesn't make sense to him, but he nods, afraid of upsetting the little girl.

"Isn't that sweet of her?" Father asks, stroking her hair. "What a good little girl."

The words burn at Hyungwon. He hates that Father has broken the promise he's paid for, and he's sickened by the fact that even now, he's jealous that Father is trying to replace him.

"Don't touch her," Hyungwon says, his voice low. He can't think about all the things he has done in order to protect her – all the vile, degrading acts he's had to perform – he can't think of them right now. He thinks that if he does, he'll shatter across the kitchen floor like glass waiting to be stepped on. And Father will crush him once more under the heel of his shoe.

Father stills before dropping his hand from her head and getting up from his seat. Slowly, he bends down and picks up the fallen orange crayon before standing back up and depositing it in from of Mi-Yeon. "Sweetie, your big brother and I are going to have a little talk, okay? Just keep coloring and I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Mi-Yeon chirps, already back to her scribbling. "But bring Hyungwon too so he can color with us!"

"We'll see," Father says, his voice light and pleasant, but it sends a shiver of fear down Hyungwon's spine as he follows Father to Hyungwon's bedroom.

Father waits until Hyungwon is inside before he shuts the door softly and turns to Hyungwon.

"You weren't supposed to touch her," Hyungwon says, already feeling weaker now that they're in the room where he has been repeatedly broken and used. "You said- you said you wouldn't-" He's backing up now as Father takes steps toward him, the back of his knees hitting the bedframe, and he's shaking, shaking so hard and he doesn't know if it's fear or anger. "You promised-"

He falls back onto the bed because he has nowhere else to go, and he realizes now that it's fear that's making him tremble because the anger has fled, taking the illusion of strength with it, and now it's just Hyungwon and the monster.

"You want to talk about promises?" Father asks, his voice deadly quiet as he kneels down on the bed over Hyungwon's frame.

Hyungwon is looking up at him, and part of Father's face is cast in shadow, but not his eyes. Hyungwon can see those perfectly, and his shaking only worsens.

Father runs a finger over Hyungwon's lips before forcing his thumb inside Hyungwon's mouth, and Hyungwon wants to desperately to bite down, but he has to be still and receive Father, he has to be obedient-

Father's thumb presses down on his tongue, effectively silencing Hyungwon's voice as he leans in close to Hyungwon's right ear, his fingers digging into Hyungwon's jaw. His frame obscures Hyungwon's view until it's all he can see even as the thumb presses down harder on his tongue and he feels like he's going to choke on his own saliva. He wants to call out for help but he knows he'll be punished if he speaks, and who is there to save him? The girl who's busy wearing down the orange crayon?

"You want to talk about promises?" Father repeats. He adjusts his position so that he's kneeling on Hyungwon's most sensitive area, and the pain is almost blinding. A bout of nausea rushes up, and Hyungwon is sure he's going to throw up, only Father's thumb is still in his mouth and now he's gagging. "You promised to be a good little boy, didn't you? Obedient to the letter?"

Hyungwon tries to say that he was a good little boy, and Father removes his thumb from Hyungwon's mouth and immediately smacks him so hard that Hyungwon feels blood in his ear, and he can no longer hold himself back from twisting and vomiting onto the floor. But Father's knee is still digging into him, and Hyungwon is heaving, the nausea rising again, but Father just grabs Hyungwon's shirt and throws him back onto the center of the bed.

"I did- what you asked," Hyungwon gasps out, and he knows the second slap is coming but it doesn't dull the pain. He throws up again, and Father moves his knee back so he's straddling Hyungwon again. He smacks Hyungwon a third time.

Hyungwon cries out and receives another smack. His head is ringing; at least one of his ears is bleeding if not both. Blood in his ear, blood in his mouth. The room is spinning around him, but there's Father hovering over him, staring down at him with bloodlust written in his eyes. And the scariest thing right now is that Hyungwon doesn't even know why Father is doing this.

"I did what you asked!" Hyungwon repeats, and he doesn't know if he's crying or if that's blood getting in his eyes now. "What did I do wrong, Father?!"

"I never should have trusted you, you whoring fuck," Father spits out, and Hyungwon distantly feels drops of saliva mixing in with the blood or tears or both on his face.

"What did I do wrong?" Hyungwon asks again, scared and confused.

Father claws at Hyungwon's pockets, and Hyungwon is afraid that Father is going to rape him right now, next to his own vomit, with Mi-Yeon coloring peacefully just a short distance away, but Father only retrieves Hyungwon's cell phone and shoves it in front of Hyungwon's face.

And Hyungwon realizes his mistakes before Father has to say it.

"This phone is supposed to be just for us," Father says, and now he's shaking, but unlike Hyungwon's trembling, it's in rage. "Because you belong to me and your body belongs to me and I deserve to request it wherever and whenever I want," he snaps, and Hyungwon thinks that he is going to die today. "And I am the only one who has that right!" Father yells, and Hyungwon tries to squeeze his eyes shut, but Father yanks at his hair until he opens them once more. "I am the only one!" he yells again, right in Hyungwon's face. "You exist to serve my needs!"

Hyungwon knows with certainty now that he's going to die. Father is going to kill him, and even though the thought should make Hyungwon happy that it will all finally be over, he's still scared, even now.

"And so wasn't I surprised to find Jooheon – JOOHEON – in the phone that I bought for you!"

Hyungwon had forgotten to delete Jooheon's contact. He had been stupid to allow Jooheon to add it in the first place, but he was especially stupid for not deleting it. Of course Father would check his phone. Of course he would want to know if anyone else was trying to take what he had worked so hard to bend and break.

"Are you sending him pictures too?" Father asks, and as though making up the answer for himself, he throws Hyungwon's phone against the opposite wall so hard that Hyungwon hears something shatter and knows with certainty that his phone is now broken. "You fucking whore!"

Hyungwon tries to protest. Promises spew from his lips – that he's never sent Jooheon pictures, that they've never touched, that he hasn't talked to Jooheon in months – but his words are met with more slaps. Hyungwon's lip is bleeding; blood is spilling into his mouth, and he's choking on it. He tries to turn and spit it out, but Father won't let him move.

"Father? ...Hyungwon?"

Hyungwon can never quite piece together what happens next despite obsessing over the events. All he knows are a series of disparate facts: the door was closed, and then the door was open; Hyungwon and Father were alone, and then they weren't; Mi-Yeon was conscious, and then she wasn't.

Hyungwon's spitting out blood onto the floor when he snaps back to reality, and he sees Mi-Yeon by the doorframe, a small pool of blood slowly seeping out from the back of her head.

And there's Father, standing between the two of them, staring at Mi-Yeon as though he's confused.

But Hyungwon knows what must have happened. He knows that Father must have hit Mi-Yeon, whether intentionally or not. For what it's worth, Father seems disoriented and concerned, but Hyungwon doesn't know if it's concern for the little girl or concern for his toy.

Hyungwon aches; he's bleeding from numerous locations, his head seems like it might crack open at any second, and he can barely feel his lower body, but he crawls across the floor to Mi-Yeon, lifting her head up and resting it on his lap. He rips his shirt off and tears several strips out of it and presses them against her wound. It's hard to tell at first whether it's his blood or hers on them.

But they turn red altogether too quickly, giving him his answer.

Father still hasn't moved; he's in shock. Hyungwon rests his weight against the doorframe as he gets to his feet, his injuries fading into the background of his mind as he focuses on carrying Mi-Yeon. He thinks that if he can just get her to the car- if he can just get her to the hospital-

He's in the kitchen now, snagging car keys from the counter, dragging himself a step at a time, but he stops short.

Mother is in his way, blocking the door.

"Please, move," Hyungwon says. He has never had much of a relationship with Mother – Father has monopolized his life all these years – but he believes that she will side with him in this one moment. Never has she helped or stood up for him before, but she won't let a child die in front of her. Hyungwon believes this, and he is wrong.

"Please," Hyungwon gasps. The adrenaline is starting to fade, and he doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to hold her. His arms are already shaking. "I need to take her to the hospital."

But Mother doesn't move.

"Mother- why- please," Hyungwon says, and he's crying now. He's so close, but it's a gap he won't be able to close.

"If she gets to the hospital, they'll ask questions," Mother says. Her voice is cold, just like on that Wednesday. "I can't let them do that."

And Hyungwon realizes now that maybe, in a twisted way, Mother is the most loyal to Father. He wonders if she loves him, and he wonders if she knows that he doesn't love anyone but himself.

And so Mi-Yeon dies just a few feet away from the flower she'd been coloring for Hyungwon, and he knows with horrible clarity that her death is at least indirectly his fault.