BTS WINGS

TAEHYUNG STIGMA

"Why were you like that to me back then?" I spoke standing atop my father's grave.

All that was ever known of you now was your name engraved into the plaque. Why I was here right now, I couldn't tell you. Guilt consumed me after you had left, even after everything you did to me. Why must I be the one that has to apologize?

Because of you, you're buried six feet under where I stand. Because of you my sister is damaged beyond repair. Because of you, remorse has shrouded my entire existence.

I never told my sister how much I loved her. After you had died she was taken into foster care at only 14. How was that fair? I couldn't even talk to her without her cowering in fear, calling me a sinner. How was that fair? I never told her I was sorry. I wasn't there for her when she needed me most. I couldn't wipe away her tears and tell her everything was alright like I used to when we were young. How was that fair on her?

I wanted nothing more than to have you out of my life. I wanted my sister to live in peace and without worry, yet it was because of you she suffered. Even when you were gone she wept for you. Her love for you was incomparable even for the selfish disgusting father you were. I hated that. I hated you.

"Why were you like that to me back then?" I barked angrier than earlier. "Why did you put us through that?!" I shouted gaining looks from around the cemetery.

Tears of frustration pricked at my eyes as I glared at your grave. One second you can turn your son into a pitiful child the next a raging maniac wanting to kill again. I guess you were an amazing father for that factor. You were a puppet master and I was a marionette. You, a man whom I despised, controlled me even beyond the grave.

I took one last look at you before turning away, taking heavy strides out of the cemetery. I just barely recognized the street around me, the walls surrounding me.

The graffiti hyung and I painted into the brick slab stood at my side. Words of justice, drawings of miniature characters, that's what covered our artwork. Someone had thought it right to cover who we were. I frowned at that, gripping onto a screwdriver left on the ground I chipped away at the paint reveal what hyung at painted that night.

"What do you think you're doing!?" An angry voice called out. I didn't have to turn to know it was the authorities.

I placed my hands behind my head a heavy weight forcing me into the wall.

"You've been the one tagging up all the streets ae?! Well sucks for you son because you're coming down to the station with me!" The officer barked, cuffing my hands behind my back.

I smirked at the irony. My father who had the cops called on him thousands of times, not once was he taken away, yet one measly crime and here I am an officer of the law escorting me to his car. Where had it all gone wrong?

"Name?" The officer in front of me asked. The moment from when I was in the squad car to the interrogation room was a blur.

"Kim Taehyung." The name my mother had given me

"Age?"

"21." The number of years I failed to protect my sister.

"Parents?"

"I have none." A father, whom I killed with my own hands. A mother who left, too afraid of her husband yet not brave enough to take her children with her.

My life held no meaning, the one person I adored, who I would lay my life down for, my sister was terrified of me. Because I was a killer. I lost my conscious, the one thing that made me human. I discarded my innocence and thus brought on darkness in my heart, a black soulless pit. Like an angel who lost its wings.

Forever falling into despair.