Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.
The relationship between Chaeri and her mother
No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle
โ warnings: Dysfunctional family, food deprivation, bullying
"It hurts!" Chaeri whined.
She hated that time of that day, in those classes where your whole body is stretched to its limits and then pulled back tight. The pain always made her feel sick before she came home.
Her teacher kept her knee between her thighs and held both of them pressed flat to the floor. She had said that flexibility training were necessary, but the pressure was terrible.
"It will get better" her teacher insisted "You have to push through the pain, otherwise you'll never get good at this"ย
Chaeri gritted her teeth, trying not to cry. She hated how her tears always made the pain worse.
"I don't want to be good at this"ย
Kim Eun's eyes were wide with anger as she looked at her daughter. Chaeri knew that look, she had seen it a million times before. It was the look of disappointment and anger and resentment, all rolled into one.
"I'm sorry" Chaeri cried "It just...slipped"
She tried her hardest, she had practiced over and over the choreography for weeks before going on that stage, to compete with other girls from all parts of France.
She worked hard in the hopes of winning, putting in long hours, catching every nuance of what she wanted to accentuate with her body language alone. But who would have expected a mishap like that?
The hat needed for the continuation of the choreography had slipped off the stage.
Chaeri had been trying to grab it, but she was too late. It had fallen to the ground and she had tripped over it.
"I didn't deserve such an untalented daughter"
Chaeri was in her room. Her face was still adorned with the sparkling glitter she had used in the competition earlier that evening.
She had prepared so much for this contest, to the point of exhaustion.
Months of rehearsing the same choreography over and over again, perfecting every move, every expression, every breath.
She had come home with a beautiful, shiny silver trophy, just big enough to sit proudly on the shelf above her desk.
The walls were painted a light purple, and the trophy she had just received stood out in its bright tones.
โWhat did the first-place winner do that you did not?โ Chaeri, who had not heard the woman's footsteps stopping at the door frame to her room, jumped in fright at Eun's low, stiff voice.
The look on her face was one of disappointment, but not surprise.ย
There was a minute of silence before the girl found the right words. She knew that it would only lead to more unpleasant consequences if she gave an answer that the woman would find stupid.
โSheโฆ she was perfect,โ Chaeri admitted, the admittance a shard of glass in her throat.
โPerfection is what we strive forโ her mother statedย โAnything less is simply rehearsal.โ
Chaeriโs fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt, the trophyโs shine now seemed to have suddenly become dulled, taking the form of a pale witness to failing. โI thought you would be proudโฆjust a little maybeโ
โTo be proud, Chaeri, one must first be satisfiedโ Kim Eun said, holding back a bitter laugh. She could not believe what she was hearing. โAnd satisfaction is earned, not given for mediocrity. Second place is just the first loser.โ
โIโll do better next time.โ
โDo better?โ Kim Eun scoffed, stepping into the room, her presence overwhelming. โDoing better is not enough. You must be the best. Anything less is a waste of my investment in you.โ
Chaeriโs hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. โYour investmentโ she echoed. Feeling more than ever like an object and not a daughter.
"Yes, my investment,โ she affirmed, disgusted to have to repeat herself. Ashamed to have received such a responseย โIโve given you everythingโ the best teachers, the best opportunities. And yet, you consistently fall short.โ
The room felt smaller, the air thicker. Chaeriโs breaths came in short gasps, as if the very act of breathing was a challenge. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell her mother that she was more than an investment, more than a project to be perfected.
She opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes burned with anger and rebellion, not at her mother, but at her tormentor. For all of her life.
But she had no time to do so, as the woman turned and told herย โI expect you to practice until you canโt stand,โ she said, her voice devoid of warmth. โMaybe then, youโll have a chance at being worthy of this familyโ
Still in her bun and the warm baby pink jumpsuit, Chaeri wandered through the many rooms of her huge mansion looking for her mother.
It was almost sunset, and by that time, Chaeri was usually never home.
The ballet classes she took would occupy her entire day, giving her free time only after dinner and on weekends.
Hence, hearing the young girl's voice around the house disturbed her mom.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"
Chaeri followed her mother's voice that led her to the woman's bedroom.
She was rarely allowed to enter that room. As her mother said, a woman's bedroom is a sanctuary that must not be violated.
Bullshit, Chaeri thought. Her mother thought she was stupid enough to believe that shit just because she was only 11 years old, but she knew perfectly well the real reason: Her mother was sleeping with her dance teacher and didn't want her children to see the evidence of it.
But she honestly didn't care. Her mother's private life was none of her business.ย
Kim Eun, who never seemed to have a hair out of place and always looked like she just stepped off the pages of a magazine, was there. Even though her makeup was usually so subtle that it did not even seem real, today, without wearing any makeup at all, she was more beautiful than a normal woman could ever hope to be. Her skin looked as if the sun had kissed her whole face, giving her smooth cheeks and an ivory complexion.ย
"I'm home" Chaeri greeted her softly, remembering all the times her mother had scolded her for being too loud and clumsy
"I can tell you're home, I asked you why" Her mother crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, a sure sign she was already annoyed by the conversation, but Chaeri ignored it, she knew that what she was going to say would change her mood.
"I got the role of Columbine in the Nutcracker!"
"Well, I'm not surprised" Kim Eun said and Chaeri's face lit up, thinking she was about to receive congratulations from her mother "You have an innate talent for earning good-for-nothing roles"
"But this is the role I've been waiting for"ย Chaeri protested "All my classmates wanted to be 'Clara'. I think Columbine is a much more fun character and then, the duet with Harlequin is very difficult, just because I dance less doesn't mean I'm-"
"Stop it" In a sudden outburst, her mother's voice was louder than usual and Chaeri stopped midsentence.
The usually graceful Kim Eun, who towered over her daughter with her imposing height, looked like a mad woman. She only revealed this side of herself within the walls of her home
"Stop talking nonsense" she hissedย "Did you even try to get the role of 'Clara'?"
Dropping her head, Chaeri turned to look at the tips of her shoes. They were beautiful; shiny white so bright you could see yourself reflected in them. There was no occasion when her mother did not remind her how all those 'beautiful' things she got them because of her and no one else.
"I tried, even though it wasn't the role I wanted"
"And you couldn't get it"
"Obviously, you tried not hard enough," she snapped back "You are a disappointment. Why can't you be as good as your brother? You will bring shame upon my reputation"
"No matter what you expected of me, I wanted the role of Columbine anyway" Chaeri said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice "So I'm not interested in what you have to say"
"You little- " Before her mother could finish, Chaeri turned around and ran out of the room, not wanting to be hit by her.
The kitchen was quiet, the only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Chaeri sat at the table, staring at the plate in front of her. It was almost empty, just a few slices of apple and a handful of almonds. This was her dinner, the same as it had been for the past few weeks.
Her mother believed that a ballerinaโs figure was paramount, that it was the key to grace and beauty on stage. โYou must be light as a feather, my dearโ she would say, her voice as cold as the untouched food on Chaeriโs plate. โNo one wants to see a heavy dancer.โ
Chaeri knew better than to argue. The last time she had asked for more food, her mother had looked at her as if she had asked for the moon. โYou want to be a dancer, donโt you?โ she had said, her tone implying that hunger was a small price to pay for success.
But Chaeri was tired. Tired of being hungry, tired of the constant ache in her stomach that no amount of water could quell. She missed the warmth of a full meal, the satisfaction of eating something meaty.
All because she'd been found to be one pound over her classmates during the monthly body check at dance school. That damned pound, her teacher had pointed out, was too much for a dancer whose job is to be lifted into the air by others. "Don't be selfish" the teacher had told her, "you'll make anyone who does a pas de deux with you lose their breath at that weight."
Never before had she felt so humiliated, never before had she been so ashamed of the chocolate chip cookies in her backpack that she had brought with her as a snack.
She pushed the plate away, frustrated with that dinner that could not be called 'dinner'.
Her mother smiled at her when she saw that she got up from the table without touching a single almond. Her stomach turned and she felt nauseous.
How perverse was it that she had to treat her body unnaturally in order to gain the approval of the woman who had given her life?
She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the window. The moonlight cast a pale glow on her face, highlighting the sharpness of her cheekbones, the hollowness of her eyes. She was the picture of a perfect ballerina, and yet, she had never felt more imperfect.ย
She turned away from the window, from the ghostly reflection that seemed to mock her. She would go to bed hungry again tonight, but in her dreams, she would feast like a queen.
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