and i excused myself.

and god damn me, god damn me--

i went straight to my father.

my father, who was the principal of the school. my father, the communist. my father, who was the corrupted one.

in my dreams i watch that boy from the corner of his office. the past is purgatorial and grey, and i simply shift between sleep and death, reaching for this disgusting, vile thing who looked at others and loathed. loathe isn't the word-- i abhored. and i feel solitude fall from my eyes and down my cheek as i watch.

and i watch.

and i see my father lift his head and smile warmly.

"taehyung, the country appreciates your existance."

and i wake up with sweat on my brow and lonely desperation in my veins.