| Fan Fiction |
by Micah
So stupid, Yoochun. So stupid.
But it certainly wasn’t the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life.
No longer feeling the need to bake in order to distract his depressing mood, Yoochun laid the apron on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. He walked to his room.
No need for distractions. He was too tired, too sick of always trying to find a distraction.
Yoochun threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes. He raised an arm over his head so that his forearm was over his closed eyes.
Today wasn’t a day meant for distraction. Today was a day for memories; recalling memories, the good and the bad.
[F.l.a.s.h.b.a.c.k]
The rough, callous hand wrapped around his skinny arm and threw him against the wall. His thin body collided with the dilapidated shelf and he wanted to cry out from the pain. But he ignored the pain because he was angry, too angry at the monster that was beating his mother in the middle of the tiny living room.
“Stop!” ten-year-old Yoochun shouted as he ran back towards the two adults and tried to save his mother from another punch.
He did not notice that when his body hit the shelf, a candle sitting on the edge of the old piece of furniture was knocked down.
“Chunnie! Run!” his mother’s voice shouted. The monster pushed her onto the ground.
Yoochun’s eyes widened, frightened by the pain in his mother’s expression. He wanted to run to her, to take her hand and make her leave this broken home (broken family) with him.
“This is for being disrespectful!” the monster’s deep voice growled.
Yoochun felt the rough, callous hand on his skinny arm again as he was pulled away from his mother. The monster angrily threw him into the closet in the corner and slammed the door shut.
The light of a newly born fire was the last thing Yoochun saw before the darkness of the closet engulfed him. “Let me out! Umma! Umma, help me!”
He banged on the door, leaned on it in hopes that the door on this old closet would break.
“Let him out!” Yoochun heard his mother demand. The ten-year-old boy could easily imagine his tiny mother throwing her weak fists at her husband; he’s seen it happen so many times already in his short life.
“Umma!” Yoochun cried as he tried to escape.
Finally the monster stepped away from the closet and the door opened. Yoochun fell out of the closet, welcomed by the fog of gray. His eyes were tearing and he couldn’t tell if the moisture was caused by his emotions or the stinging of the smoke.
He saw that the monster had only stopped holding the door shut because his mother had grabbed a weapon to attract the monster’s attention. The monster grabbed the weapon (his empty beer bottle) out of her tiny hands and threw it into the fire on the other side of the room. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slapped her.
Yoochun quickly grabbed for an old broken chair and ran towards the monster. With all the strength he could muster, he aimed for the monster’s head.
Yoochun heard the roar of pain. He ignored it and ducked under the monster’s arm to grab his mother’s hand.
“Run!” she shouted as they headed into the small kitchen. The fire was engulfing half of the living room and would soon spread to the other half of the small house.
“You little brat!” the angry roar came again and Yoochun was pulled backwards. The strength of the pull caused pain in his shoulder.
“No!” his mother cried just as Yoochun’s small body was thrown back towards (not quite into) the fire. His head hit the edge of a table and blood dripped from the wound. The fire was so close that his body burned from the heat.
His mother attacked the monster again as Yoochun pushed himself up. The chair he had used before was already burning in the fire. He tried to find another weapon of defense.
He saw another empty beer bottle on the ground and grabbed it. He ran towards the fighting couple and hit the monster (his own father) hard on the head with the glass bottle. The sound of shattering glass and his mother’s gasp was muffled by the sound of raging fire. The fire was growing.
“Chunnie! Run!” his mother grabbed his hand and tried to lead him through the kitchen and out the backdoor.
When Yoochun tried to run with his mother, he felt the hand on his ankle. It tugged hard and Yoochun fell, releasing his mother’s hand so that he wouldn’t pull her back with him.
Yoochun fell face-flat on the burning floor, sweat covering his undernourished body. He felt the big hand on the back of his ripped shirt that dragged his whole body back.
“I’ll make sure you burn before I die!” the monster roared as he picked the skinny ten-year-old up and threw him back towards the fire that had eaten up half of the house already.
Just when he thought this was the end, he felt his whole body being dropped. He landed on his left side and his face hit an object on the ground. He didn’t know what it was, but it was so close to the fire that the object was heated up to an unbearable degree. Yoochun’s head fell on it, causing it to come in contact with the left side of his face and the burning of skin could be heard, mixed with the cry of pain in the form of a ten-year-old boy’s voice.
“Chunnie!” his mother sobbed as she grabbed for him and hugged him tightly.
Squinting his eyes, Yoochun could see his father’s still body lying next to his feet. There was half of a broken beer bottle sticking out of his back. His mother had stabbed the monster in the back with a broken beer bottle! The monster was dead! His father was lying there, dead, next to his feet!
His tears of pain were stopped by the shock and the numbness of the discovery was enough to help him ignore the excruciating burn on his face.
“Let’s go! Quickly!” his mother gasped as he pulled him up.
Yoochun tried not to look back at the corpse that would soon be eaten up by the fire. He followed his mother and bit down on his lips to prevent from voicing the painfulness of the burn.
Nearly the entire house was blanketed by the fire by now. Pieces of the roof were falling and soon the house (the home) would be completely broken.
Only one exit was left and it too was hardly spared.
“Go!” his mother ordered, trying to push him out of the backdoor. He would have to crawl because the fire had spread on the roof and the top half of the door was blocked by a fallen piece of wood.
Yoochun gripped his mother’s hand tightly to make sure that she would be escaping with him.
He’d barely stepped out when he heard the cackling sound of breaking and broken wood. His mother’s scream echoed in his ear (and in his heart) when the large piece of wood crushed her lower body.
“Umma!” Yoochun cried as he grabbed her hands and tried to pull her out. She was halfway out. Just a little more. Just a little more and they’d be able to go find Se7en at the orphanage; to go be a happy family again.
Blood leaked through her dry lips, caused by the internal wounds. Her body was in unbearable pain, but when the numbness took over her body soon after, she knew that she would not make it.
“Yoochun! Yoochun!” she tried to breathe.
“Help me, Umma! Help me! Help me save you!” Yoochun sobbed as he tugged and pulled on her arms, kneeling and even standing up to allow more strength.
“Yoochun! Listen to me!” she stopped talking to blink away her tears and try to take in as much oxygen as possible.
“Umma!” Yoochun begged. “Just a little more!”
“Listen to me!” she pleaded.
Yoochun’s lips quivered as he fell on his knees (in defeat). His whole body shook and even though he was so close to the fire, he felt cold. He didn’t pull anymore.
“My only regret in life is that I did not escape him sooner, that I did not take you and Se7en away from him. But…but…” she tried to breathe and it looked to be so difficult. Yoochun clenched his teeth together to prevent himself from releasing a sob. His tears still fell. “But at least now, I can leave this world knowing that I was able to save you and Se7en from him. You two are free from him now. Take care of Se7en, Yoochun. He’s still young. Take care of him and take care of yourself.”
“Umma…” Yoochun squeaked in a cracked voice and knew he couldn’t say anymore. He gripped tightly onto her hands. Should he try to pull her out again? Could he?
His mother shook her head from left to right, slowly and weakly. “Don’t be like me. Don’t live a life full of regrets. Life is too short for regrets. Continue living life to the fullest. Always look on the bright side and be strong. My parents always told me that: to always look on the bright side and be strong, but I couldn’t do it. You have to be able to do it. You and Se7en…”
Her own hoarse voice cracked and she cried hard. She looked up at her eldest son: blood covered half of his face, tears were causing his burn to sting, and those wet eyes would become dry with time to heal. The burn would leave a scar. She knew. But he was still her beautiful son.
It just made her so, so sad that she wouldn’t be able to see her younger son for the last time.
“I’m very lucky to have a son like you. You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’re strong and courageous. You’re kind and smart. Don’t ever change. You’ll be able to live life to the fullest. You and Se7en. Always stick together, love each other. Take good care of him, Chunnie,” she choked on a sob and couldn’t breathe properly anymore. “Turn around, Chunnie. Turn around and run. Don’t look back.”
She didn’t want him to see.
“Umma,” Yoochun cried, new tears forming again.
“Do what I say,” she struggled to grasp for air.
“I love you, Umma. We love you,” he whimpered as he gave her hand one last squeeze.