WARNING: Contains violence.

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⟨Jɪɱɪŋˈs pøʋ⟩

A knock was heard from the other side of the door. I felt my breath hitch and clutching the keys tighter did not help much, until a soft, feathery voice reached my ears.

"It's mom, Jiminie."

I couldn't help but let a sigh escape my lips. My mother always calmed me down a lot. Wiping up the rest of the tears on my face, I stood up and unlocked the door.

There stood my mother, her eyes blood red, bruises all over her neck and arms and every possible exposed part of her body. She flashed a gleaming smile at me. In her hand was a tray of food. My favourite food. Jajjang teokbokki.

"It's late, sweetie. Eat up. You have school tomorrow."

She extended her shaky hands a bit, encouraging me to take the plate. She knew her son have heard everything. She knew I knew everything. She knew how much it affected me. I can see her trying. But her way is wrong. She's failing.

Failing miserably.

She failed to hide the worst of her husband from her son.

She failed to show him what having a dad is like.

She failed.

Failed.

I hugged her the tightest she had ever been hugged. I know what she was thinking. That definitely startled her. I sobbed, right from behind her neck. Shit. I was crying. Again.

That's the last thing she ever wanted. But yet it's something she hears every day. She was frozen but as I said, I know what she was thinking. She probably remembered the time she promised me to get away from that man. It's been three years since then. She failed to keep the promise. She was trapped.

"Jimin, I-I'm fine. Please don't cry."

She started, only for me to hug her tighter. It felt like she would just vanish in thin air if I let go. Maybe I was just paranoid. Or maybe the side effects of the sleeping pills I have been taking.

"Jimin?"

I felt was throat constrict, preventing me from getting the air I need to breathe. Soon, I found it harder to breathe. Really hard. My sobs choked at my throat. I felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. My heart thumped wildly, trying to supply blood throughout my body even though the supply of oxygen was really low.

"Jimin!"

And before I could comprehend, I felt myself lose all control of my body. Black spots appeared on my vision and soon, all of my senses left me.

________________

Soft chirps. That's what I could hear. But all I saw was black. I could feel the soft fabric on my skin. A warm hand lay on my hair, its thump finger caressing my hair.

"Jimin?"

A gentle voice called. I whimpered at that, suddenly aware of the throbbing pain in my head.

"Can you open your eyes?"

The hand stopped caressing my forehead and moved down to my hand. I followed the instruction and tried to open my eyes, only to realize how bright the light was.

I whimpered again, feeling the headache increase.

"Jiminie."

She called out again. I recognized the voice this time. It was my mom's. My mom seemed to have read my mind. I felt the same gentle hand massage my forehead.

"I've turned off the light. Can you open your eyes now?"

I tried again, and this time, I was successful. The first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was the giant eyes of my mother staring right at his face. She let out a small giggle.

"Are you feeling alright now?"

She asked, her smile not leaving her face. She would do anything to take away the pain of me. She would hide her own pain. Her own desires.

I stared at her, clearly in disbelief for a while. I couldn't believe she was the same person screaming for help a few hours ago and now she's up here, smiling and giggling.

I turned my gaze away from my mother, taking her hand from my head and putting it away from me. I wanted to show my mom that I was angry at her. Angry at her for not doing anything even though she could have.

She could have left him. Could have called the police. But she did nothing.

I heard a sigh and soon after, felt the bed dip beside me. An arm wrapped itself around me.

"Are you mad at Mom?"

She pouted. She knew I had reasons to be upset. But she didn't know a way otherwise.

"Jimin, I know what you are thinking. It's not as easy as you think. Your father is just-"

This time, I forcefully yanked her hand away and pulled up my side pillow on my ears. I don't care what my father was going through. Nobody gives him the right to hit my mother like that.

A long silence followed. I realized my action might have hurt my mother a bit. Both of us have the same habits. To go silent when we are upset. There was a long gap before I felt movement again.

"Here's your food. I heated it. Please eat it."

She said but I closed my eyes and kept silent, pretending to be asleep. Soon after, I heard the door creak. I opened my eyes the found my mother gone. I looked over at my food. It smelled delicious. My stomach grumbled. I groaned.

Annoyed, I sat up, taking the plate on my lap and putting aside all my ego, I took a huge mouthful of it, totally devouring it.

Within a few minutes, I found myself licking every bit of the empty bowl. And right after, I found myself staring at the bowl for minutes, overwhelmed with emotions. I started regretting that kind of behaviour with my mother.

I slipped out of bed and took out some sticky notes from my bedside table. It's something I prefer to use when I am not ready to open up to my mother.

-Mom, I'm sorry for how I behaved. I shouldn't have done that. I should've tried to understand your part of the story. But still, it doesn't mean what you're doing is right. I know you're trying your best for us. It just hurts me so much to see you getting hurt by the person who is supposed to be a husband to you and a father to me.

I stuck the note on the plate and kept it on the bedside table. I looked at the clock.

9:35 pm.

I knew it was late at night. But I was too restless, I needed some fresh air. I swung over the bag pack lying on the floor over my shoulders. I sneakily took the keys from the living room's centre table, making sure my mother doesn't notices and sneaked out.

The bag was not necessary, but the bag had the stuff of my secrets. My deepest secrets. Specifically, my diary.

Outside, I was shocked to see the streets almost completely empty. I could hear the sound of the cuckoo and numerous other insects.

Nakdong river. My favourite place to visit. The water there is so fresh that you can see small, colourful fish moving around. It has a very pleasant weather. Sitting by the river bank had to be one of the most pleasant experiences.

I decided that's where I'd go. It was a short walk as I lived nearby. I threw my bag beside myself as I sat down, hands folded up over my knees.

I watched the lighting which reflected on the water, making several ripples prominent. The huge building far away glowed like an Endymion.

Suddenly, a pair of feet appeared next to me. I looked up. It was an old man, fairly in his seventies. He had both of his hands rested on a cane as he looked forward, in the direction where I was starting seconds ago.

"What are you doing at this time of the night, young man?"

Asked the old guy in a hoarse tone of voice. I looked away, not wanting to answer the older. I never liked to lie. My life was something I'd never want anyone to know about either.

"Did you have some kind of conflict with a loved one?"

I shot my head back at the old man who had a blunt smile on his face, still looking forward.

"Your eyes say. I used to argue with my parents and the entire dozen of siblings that I had back in the days."

He chuckled and for the first time, looked into my eyes. I felt something ignite within him. God, it made my heart flutter.

The eyes. They were the most welcoming ones ever.

Home. I saw home in them.

"Say, if something is bothering you so much, you can come around to my coffee shop. It's just a few walking steps away from here."

I could push the offer away. But I always had a soft spot for old people. They are wise and kind and know the world so well. They are very understanding. It reminded me of my own grandparents.

I found myself nodding. The old man hummed and turned around.

"Follow me."

Said the man. I stood up, took my bag over my shoulder and walk behind him. As said, the journey was barely two minutes.

It was a very small coffee shop, with dim lights hanging from the ceiling. The bells jingle cheerfully as the door. It smelled like coffee beans. The walls were painted in a creamy skin colour, with traditional paintings hung in a specific pattern. There were lanterns with quotations written on the outer surface.

"I'll get you a small cup."

The old man said while gesturing for me to sit and disappeared into the kitchen. Soon, a strong aroma of coffee spread through the entire room.

The smell of coffee gave me chills. It means I'll probably stay awake for the rest of the night. It means I'll have to bear more of my mom getting hurt. I couldn't protest. My mom will just get more hurt in the process of protecting me.

Tears filled my eyes again. I close them, trying hard to let them roll out. missed my mom already. My mother didn't deserve that type of behaviour. After literally being abused by her husband, she should have been taken care of. But instead, she got a piece of her son's attitude. I couldn't imagine being in her place. Instead of apologizing, I ran away from the problem.

How selfish.

Two hands suddenly around me, startling me. It smelled like the old man. The home. He didn't say anything, but started to softly pat my head. It made the tears finally leak out of my eyes. God, I have never felt so helpless. I couldn't even speak and just kept weeping in his hold.

My thoughts went back to the time I first saw my father hurting my mother.

"M-Mom?"

There I stood, a six-year-old by the door frame of his room, thumb in his mouth, eyes filled with tears.

My father halted his moves, his wife's hair still held tight in his fist, trying to comprehend what just happened. His son found out. His eyes darkened, anger coursing through his veins. Mom tried to suppress a sob but failed.

"Jimin please, go back to-"

"Did I not tell you to stay in your room no matter what happens?"

He made his way over to me, the tiny little kid who had started to wail, shaking terribly from the fear of his own father. He had frozen to his spot, unable to move. I was just a small kid for heaven's sake. All I knew was I heard screams and so I followed them.

I didn't understand anything even when I saw the scene unfold in front of me. I've never seen my father so angry. Hell, I've barely seen him at home.

He grabbed my arms tight and shook me.

"Did I not?!"

He yelled in my face. Then I did what I now think is the most immature thing I could have done at that moment. I started to scream from fear and cried loudly for my mother who was desperately trying to take her husband's hands off her son. I don't blame myself though. As I said, I was just a small kid.

"Please, lea-"

"Back to your room! NOW!"

He screamed even louder and the moment he let go of my arms, I sprang to my room in the speed of light and I'm pretty sure my sobs were still audible in the huge living room that was only filled with heavy, angry breaths.

He turned to my mom behind him, the one he calls his wife.

"Looks like you didn't teach him well enough. Let me give you a piece of lesson."

Saying that, he dragged her to their own shared bedroom. Little did they know I was still watching.

Tears were continuously flowing from her eyes but she didn't protest. She knew there was no way out.

I sobbed out loudly. I don't want to remember it. I can't understand why my brain is replaying it in such detail. I was really small to understand what had exactly happened that day, but as I grew up, I finally understand what those sounds from their room actually meant.

My father hurt my mom to the deepest that day.

I sobbed for what felt like hours. I sobbed till there were no tears left to cry. Yet the old man didn't stir once and let me cry in his arms for as long as I had to.

"Thank you."

I said, separating from the hug while still sniffling. I wiped the rest of my tears using my sleeve while I looked down.

"Don't worry, young man. It's my duty. It's my job to provide comfort. What else do you think I can do at this age?"

He let out a humorous chuckle. It managed to bring a smile to my face. The old man patted my head again.

"Wait here. I have something to give to you."

Saying that he disappeared into the kitchen again. In a second, he came out with a small cup and a small box in his hands. He puts the cup of coffee in front of me.

"Drink this."

He gestured to me. I looked over at it, the steam coming out of the designed, small cup. I hesitated a bit but picked it up anyway and slowly slurped the coffee, sighing contently at how delicious it was.

"And take this with you too."

The old man said, handing me the navy blue box. I looked at the man with a questioning expression. He guessed the look on my face and answered it accordingly.

"It has a pearl necklace, though you can wrap it around your wrist as well. I usually make it for my grandchildren. You remind me of them. So I am giving one to you."

I opened the box right there. There laid a pearled piece, the prettiest of all, shining so brightly even in such dim light. My eyes must have glowed because it looked so bright and shiny. I had never seen something so pretty.

"It's so pretty."

I said, more like to myself. My eyes didn't leave the object once. The old man smiled.

"Thank you. Do you want to wear it?"

I nodded instantly, taking the piece from the box and placing it around my neck and adjusting it. For the first time, I actually felt valued.

"Thank you!"

I stood up and spread my arms for a hug. The man chuckled. That humorous laugh. And accepted the hug. I took out my wallet to pay the old man but he put a hand in front of my face.

"Save that to have something comforting for yourself. Go now, it's late. Your family may worry."

He said, patting my shoulder. I couldn't help but smile a bit. I bowed to him and walked out of the shop, the doorbells jingling again to welcome me for the visit.

By that time, it had gotten even darker and quieter. I walked in a steady motion through the pathway. The necklace shined brightly in the moonlight. It made me feel safe. I looked down at the shining object.

This has to be my new special thing.

2749 words.

I've made changes. A lot. And I'm liking it better. I think I'll change the rest of my successive stories to first-person perspectives as well.

I hope you've enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!

Have you great day! Love you! Bye!