the first time jongin realized his father was a psychopath, he was seven years old, standing in the man's study, watching him burn the end of his cigar into jongin's nanny's arm. she screamed and fought against him, trying to get away, like a rabbit caught in a trap, but kim yesung's grip was stronger. she wailed and cried and cursed him, cursed them both, cursed this whole household, but he didn't let her go until the fizzing stopped. the scar would be permanent. she disappeared soon after that, as any self-respecting woman might, and jongin didn't blame her. he would have gone with her if she didn't hate him so much.
that was also the day he realized that he himself was a sociopath, for feeling no remorse for her, for not wanting to help her in her moment of terror and distress. he felt almost nothing; just a coldness, a slight disgust. he knew he ought to have helped her in some way, but he just couldn't bring himself to care, all he wanted was to go back to playing video games in peace.
his mother on the other hand, was always quite emotional, soft and sweet-spoken, careful about everything she did or touched. she reminded jongin of a dove usually, pure, white, and picking at the garbage left after people. she has always been very beautiful, albeit not too bright, probably everything kim yesung had been looking for in a wife when they got hitched. it makes her easy to manipulate and control.
in all of this disastrous mess, jongin feels she always got the worst bit of it. she didn't deserve a husband like him, a life like this, trapped in that house, trapped in her long slender gowns, like a ghost inside her own bones. she was the only person jongin could ever really call lovely.
she often made things impossible for him though, refusing to accept that her son is just as much of a shell as her husband, always telling him to react better, behave himself, telling him it was okay to feel things. as if he were able to. he wonders sometimes if she knew deep down that he was exactly like his father, just unwilling to admit it. they are both lost and dark.
jongin isn't sorry about his father. that old bastard could die in a gutter and he wouldn't even blink or slow down. but his mother... a dove of a woman, she deserved to be released into the sky.
this would have to be as close as jongin could ever give her to it.
he stays awake all night in a hotel room, clicking through the channels, hour after hour. there is a knot in his gut at 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am. it doesn't leave or subside no matter how many times he tells himself it'll be alright. he lays on the stiff bed as still as possible, his arm tucked under his pillow, staring at the television over the head of a girl sleeping on his chest.
she was a good distraction for about two hours, but then she fell asleep. that's okay though, because this part would be better with him just alone anyway. he wouldn't be any good at conversation with her or explaining why he can't sleep tonight.
he's just waiting and watching.
waiting and watching.
waiting. watching.
waiting.
watching.
the news breaks just as soon as the dawn does across the horizon, the sun beams creeping in through the crack in the window curtains. his eyes widen as the reporter stands in front of his old home and declares it dying.
does she know how many horrors have gone down within those walls? could she possibly have any idea the heartlessness that infected that place long ago, a terrible hole that might just as well have swallowed it down into the earth below her feet? the devil has claimed his own this morning, despite kim juhyun's purity. maybe it'll save her soul, maybe not.
souls didn't really exist anyway.
his phone starts going off like crazy, the calls and messages lighting it up like christmas, but it's on silent so as to not wake up his companion, his alibi for the evening. he does look over at it though, briefly seeing a few of the messages, but doesn't pick it up or even reach over for it. they'll want several statements from him-- everyone clamoring to find out where he is, what he's doing, is he okay, has he seen the news yet?
his alibi nuzzles his chest sleepily, her heavy eyelids opening just a crack before closing again and clinging to his body tighter.
and just like that he feels free. the knot in his stomach is gone, the chains on his future are lifted, his life lands right into his own hands, to control. everything they had is now his; the stocks, the bonds, the wealth, the power, the name, the social status.
he is the sole surviving heir to the kim family fortune.
he smiles a moment before reaching over slowly to pick up his phone, ignoring everything to get into his messages, to an anonymous string of numbers at the bottom of his contact list.
quickly, he types, "good job. the money will be wired to your account in an hour"
he deletes the message and the contact, and then decides he wants waffles for breakfast.
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