Metanoia | J.JK

chapter fifty eight

j u n g k o o k

Spicey

Staring at the pictures and the notes written behind it, I couldn't describe how to feel right now. This burden was a day long when I came here. How can I even bring this to her? She'll just freak out like everyone us would.

But this time, things will end differently.

I take a cigarette, placing it on my lips before lighting it. Inhaling the smoke, I ruffled my hair, not liking how this is going. I really need a distraction, I can barely think straight.

Heading out of my room, I went straight downstairs while making sure that Y/n wasn't paying attention to me. It was midnight, and those words wouldn't let me sleep.

I open the door that barely noticed by anyone in the basement. Nobody goes there because I only have the key to it. It's not like they have a reason to go to the basement.

Closing the door behind me, I walk forward slowly as a glimpse of light sparked by the wall. The light wasn't bright, just an old bulb that was barely holding onto himself.

Taking myself a chair, I sat in front of him, observing how dry he looked. The only thing that was protecting his image were his clothes.

He coughed some blood when he first open his eyes. It's been a while he's been sleeping, he should be thanking me for that. He lays against the wall, breathing unevenly as he looked down at the ground, not daring to even gaze at me.

His body sliding to the side but he tried his best to sit right without failing. I knew the time is about to come for him. But I just feel like he needs more, more pain, more torture.

He whispered something barely audible. I had to get up and crouch in front of him to hear him well. Letting out a smoke against his face, I wait for him patiently for what he had to say.

"Is my daughter okay?" He chocked out, gazing painfully at me.

Leaning back, I stared down at him. Those simple words were meant for a father, not for him. Yet, he dared to ask me that.

My hand grasped around his neck, as the other took the gun, pushing it under his chin. His chest rose up and down, not even shuddering, like he was ready to die already.

"Are you fucking joking with me?" I chuckled as he tried not looking at me. Grasping his hair, I forced him to look at me, to make him realize. "How could you even think about her? When you always had another daughter that always wanted to get close with you, to understand why you're doing this to her."

This time he stays quiet, not able to even open his mouth to say anything. I get up, covering my mouth with my hand while gazing down at him.

How could he ever?

"You don't deserve to die quickly." The moment I said those words, my finger pulled the trigger right on his thighs and his shoulder. Every where beside the most critical parts.

I want him to die so slowly. Each time the bullet penetrated his body, he screamed. Anyone else would start pleading for their lives but he knows what he did was so wrong.

His body fell down the floor, he started to cough loudly, blood spluttering on the ground. A pool of red liquid formed around him, like he was doing a bath at this moment. There was so much blood and I was satisfied to see that.