minho's plate of food sat untouched on the table before him when he'd entered inside his hospital wing's cafeteria that afternoon. beside the food was a tall glass of orange juice that he'd only taken a sip from, and even with that his stomach had protested hugely against it. he just didn't feel like eating anything today.

he didn't talk to the other patients around him, and they didn't talk to him either. some of them had heard about the fiasco that had happened in his room the day before, and as a result, a majority of them steered clear of him. but it wasn't like minho cared anyway.

he'd stopped caring about anything a long time ago.

minho was expecting his mother to visit this afternoon, after a long talk on the phone last night about what had happened that resulted in minho ending up at the hospital. he'd felt a little guilty when he'd heard her crying over the phone, especially when he reluctantly shared the details about what had taken place in the bathroom.

he'd told her everything -- from his and jisung's first meeting, to now -- because he no longer felt like he had anything to lose. he didn't care about anything anymore, and he felt numb to whatever judgement his mother might've harboured for him at his words. at that point in time yesterday night, he didn't care if he sounded crazy or delusional. he really didn't care.

minho softly dug his fork into his plate of salad, slowly twisting the utensil to at least look like he was attempting to eat something. he didn't want any of the nurses passing by and reprimanding him for not eating his food.

just as he pierced his fork into some lettuce, a person sauntered in through the doorway, their footsteps quick and light.

"minho," the person spoke, alerting minho of their presence. it was his mother.

her face brightened into a huge smile as she took the empty seat in front of him, placing her hand on top of his own. her touch was comforting, but yet minho couldn't help but tense up.

"how are you feeling right now, minho?" she asked him. minho looked into her nearly identical pair of brown eyes, wanting to see if he could spot any sign of pity, and a relieved sigh left his lips when he could find nothing.

"normal," minho stated. he stabbed his fork into the salad, finally leaving the shiny utensil alone. he stared at his and his mother's interlocked hands. "i'm sorry for putting you through so much trouble."

"it's okay."

"it's not okay, mom. stop saying that," minho shook his head. "i'm a mess, and i'm pretty sure you can see that. you don't have to lie."

"minho..." his mother's grip over his hand tightened. "stop beating yourself up. no matter what, i'll always love you, just like i always have. there's nothing you can do that will change that."

"i'm crazy."

"you're not, minho. you're not..." his mother whispered. she brought out her handbag and placed it on the table. "i -- i've been meaning to tell you something, but i never had the courage to all these years. i thought it was just a coincidence when you..." she trailed off, her shoulders set as she zipped the bag open.

"when i what, mom?" minho questioned, eyes big. "what were you going to say?"

a cold chill descended over the exposed parts of his skin when his mother opened her mouth to say her next words.

"let's talk about your...dad."

he swallowed hard. blurry, quick images of his drunk father exerting all his anger and rage on him and his mother hurriedly shifted through his mind. "i don't want to talk about him."

"i'm sorry. i don't want to talk about him either... but you need to know this," his mother replied. at this point, her palms were lightly shaking, as if she was afraid of saying what she was planning on saying next.

minho raised an eyebrow. "mom. please."

"your dad wasn't a good father, but...i'm sure you know that already. as well as being abusive, he was manipulative as well," his mother continued, keeping her eyes glued on the table. her dark curly hair fell down her shoulders in waves.

minho was well aware of the many deeds his father had committed before he finally went to prison. of course he'd know, as he was the main reason why his father got arrested in the first place.

minho couldn't remember what his father had done to him that night exactly, but he could recall the way his father had came home drunk off his ass, before roughly grabbing onto him in the livingroom. he also remembered the darkness that cornered his vision half a second later. his mother had refused to tell him what his father had actually done to him all these years, and he'd never been particularly interested enough to ask anyway.

"he always lashed out on us, on you especially. that night, he'd..." minho's mother hesitated, "he'd beaten you black and blue, and you almost died. there was so much blood. by the time i'd called the ambulance and the police had showed up, he kept muttering this one sentence that i can never, ever forget."

minho froze, his heartbeat quick inside his chest. "...what did he say?"

she met his curious gaze. she looked regretful. "he said, 'i've finally done what you asked. can you leave me alone now?'"

minho was speechless, but his mother continued, inhaling a huge breath as she did so.

"h-he kept on saying that, screaming it out even as the policemen took him away. he kept muttering how he was 'doing the right thing' and how the person tormenting him would 'come for me' since i prevented you from dying." minho's mother paused, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "i couldn't sleep properly after that night. i was so stressed out, and the fact that he'd made you lose some of your memory after hitting you so hard took a toll on me as well. i had bills to pay, and i had to take care of you as well, as you had to undergo a lot of physical therapy to get better.

"i didn't tell you all this as you were so young then, and when you started making new friends, i didn't want you to feel bad about the ones you'd left behind," she said, looking her son in the eye. "i'm so sorry about that."

minho couldn't form any words that would make actual sense. he was extremely shocked at what his mother had said, especially as he had a major memory loss between the ages of nine to ten years old. he still couldn't recollect his memories of those times though, and that in itself made the situation all the more terrifying.

his father -- the man who almost killed him, who beat him up and shouted at him and ruined a part of his childhood -- had more in common with him that he'd originally thought.

minho wanted to throw up.

"i'm so sorry for not telling you this earlier, minho. but back then, i couldn't make sense of his behaviour. i, like many others, thought he was an evil, and vile lunatic," minho's mother continued. she squeezed her son's palm, noting the way it was trembling. "i'm so sorry."

minho squeezed his eyes shut, holding in his breath without actually meaning to. his head spun with nausea, and he felt dizzy.

"i... i wanted to show you something."

minho opened his eyes, not thinking that things could actually get any worse than this. "...what is it?"

"you had a friend..." his mother whispered. "when you were around eight and a half. you guys were close, but when we moved, you couldn't even say goodbye to him because you didn't know who he was anymore."

minho's heart started beating irregularly when his mother searched through her bag for something. in a few seconds, she brought out a slightly crumpled paper, a nervous expression plastered on her face.

"you used to draw him a lot when you two were still friends. he'd always liked that. i'd kept this picture in particular, because i wanted show it to you one day, and... i felt today was the right time, after all you'd told me."

she gently placed the folded paper in minho's hand, and when minho finally opened it, his heart dropped.

***

a/n: thoughts on this?