somehow the thinning of the road was enough to put a smirk on his face, the corners of the hill were enough to kill, from just single careless drift of the steering wheel. his dark brown orbs turned a shade darker, wondering how it would all be better if things just ended this way, at this time, with the reason for everything dying along with him, down to the sharp barks and huge rocks.
"you make me sick. what a disgrace you are," he spat on him, yearning a clench of his jaw.
it's all he had to do, just a pull of the wheel downwards and that would be it.
pain would be no more.
with a cigarette in between the fingers of his own father—a stranger perhaps, to him. he was never at all a father, never at all a husband, let alone a brother to any of his family.
and baekhyun is utterly sick, at the age of fifteen, he's sick. sick and tired, because he's had it.
sick of being an everyday punching bag, both through his bones and through his head. he's sick of hearing the disgusting raspy voice of the man that focused on the road. with every vein in his body having the want and need to end it all, bringing the burden along with him, to end the rest of everybody else's misery.
especially his mother's.
he would do it all for her. he had to. after being ripped apart by the very hands of his father, he saw how he laid them on his mother—his poor mother, with blood rushing down her skin, and face filled with bruises. he saw with his very own eyes, his own mother losing her life in the hands of her beloved husband. at a very early age, he was forced to watch it all, forced to watch the body of his mother lying on the floor, blood oozing out of her as she laid unconscious.
and now, a pull was all it would take to end his misery.
he glared at the wheel, waiting for the car to reach a certain spot on the road, to where the road curves itself and in which the vehicle turns. he waits for that very moment.
but much to his dismay, the right moment consisted of another unexpected vehicle.
and the pull of the steering wheel didn't turn out the way he had expected. a sound was then heard right after the sudden swerve of the car.
he opened his eyes, a sharp bright light blinding his irises. he turned to the left to the sight of his father, blood dripping all over his face, but the movement of his chest still noticeable.
a thread of profanities once again trailed in his head, knocking hard on the already almost broken window, causing it to shatter into pieces.
his plan of killing himself along with the person he dragged into his attempt has once again failed.
he didn't mind the pain that stung his skin, nor did he mind the searing pain that was dripping down his skull.
everything else had suddenly turned into a blur, and in a spur of a moment, his conscience was finally back in his head. the rush of adrenaline getting ahead of him as he thought of trying to find his way out of the damaged vehicle, leaving his father alone to die. but his focus was set on something else. something that pulled him back further into reality.
the black smoke that polluted the area wasn't just from a factory nearby or from anywhere else. the aching memory of the vehicle running down came back to his mind and that was when it dawned upon him.
the pull of the steering wheel certainly did not fail to kill.
because it did, it took the lives of two innocent people he never intended to take.
