Spray painting 'murder' on a mansion's door seemed like a fun idea to the group of teenage rebels. Clearly high on drugs, they didn't expect to be watched by a man standing on a balcony above them with a glass of whiskey in his hand and an amused sm...
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It was a stormy night. Thunder, lightning and rain pouring down the street, wind hitting the many leaves on its trees and forcing them to let out terrifying screams. A few cars, some old— some new, drove along the road with people sitting inside, that were just waiting to get inside their cozy homes and out of the heavy storm.
Waiting, to be with their families again, sitting together in their kitchen and eating a warm meal, chatting about their day at work and school with their dog or cat sitting beside the table. Wiggling it's tail, eyes wide and cautious in hopes of the people letting some food fall down for them to steal and eat.
Laughs filling the houses, gentle smiles and happiness on the people's faces. Must be nice, Taehyung used to think. Having someone to come home to, tell them about his day and see their eyes begin to shine in interest at whatever he started to talk about it. To have someone who would wrap their arms around him, even just for once, to feel someone's warmth and closeness against himself. To feel, that someone cared about him, even after all the things he did.
To know, someone would always be there for him, listen to his rambling about unnecessary stuff, but also to his worries. Someone, who would hold him in his sleep, when the nightmares would start crawling their way up his spine, feeling like blades of ice piercing through him and forcing him back to the day of his mother's suicide. To the day, his father got arrested. The day, his parents had the fight. Even the day, Mrs. Rousseau was found dead.
It was always there. The monster, that others might call memories. To him, it was just a cruel and evil monster, that lured people into self-hatred. Made them think about everything over and over again, not letting them forget even once. It whispered sweet nothings into their ears, sometimes seeming like an angel sitting on their shoulders, showing them the most beautiful things. Making them smile and remember.
And then the little angel would turn into the devil. Smiling manically and turning the gentle memories into a hurricane of cries and screams, watching these people trash around, pulling on the strands of their hair, scratching off their skin while tasting their own salty tears. The monster would sit there in satisfaction, torturing them by letting people remember. Made them remember, what they simply wanted to forget.
Taehyung didn't want to remember his mother's dead body. Didn't want to see her hanging from the ceiling in his head every single night, when he just begged for sleep with his breath going rapid and eyes squeezed shut in fear. Tears still rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto his old and cheap pillow, that reeked of his mother's old perfume. Dior— Hypnotic Poison. It's always been her favorite.
He still remembered her wide smile and eyes, when she opened the birthday present Taehyung got her. It was tough to save up that much money, but he would do anything to see her happy. Only that she wasn't. And she made it quite obvious, once he saw her feet in the air, a few inches about the floor with her toes having become a purplish dark shade.
