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Minho was crouched in a corner of his small room, clutching his favourite stuffed animal to his chest. It was dark, but he was used to the dark. At night time, Appa didn’t like him turning the lights on because it was “a waste of power”. He had been scared at first, nervous that monsters would come out of the shadows, but it was okay now. He had gotten used to the darkness.
Minho could hear the sound of the TV coming from the other room. A couple of times, when he had gotten super bored, he would poke his head out of the door and what what Appa was watching. It wasn’t very interesting and the people on the screen liked to shout a lot. Maybe that was why Appa liked it, they were just like him.
A small stream of moonlight was shining through the window so Minho shuffled over from his corner and sat the raggedy cat, Bonnie, on the cold floor. He liked playing with Bonnie. She was cute and his best friend in the whole wide world. She even hugged him back extra tight when Eomma and Appa were grumpy with him.
As Bonnie and Minho played together, Minho made sure to be super quiet because he knew Appa didn’t like lots of noise, he felt his belly rumble. He was only a little bit hungry though, so he tried his best to ignore it and continue playing with Bonnie.
A little bit after that, though, Minho was really getting quite hungry. Scooping up Bonnie in his arms, he cautiously made his way over to the bedroom door. He had to go on his tippy toes to reach the door handle, but he could reach it. He was getting pretty tall now, he wondered if Eomma noticed.
The door opened quietly, just as Appa liked it. Minho pulled Bonnie even closer to his chest as he walked out of his small room and over to Appa’s chair. Talking to Appa always made him nervous. Sometimes, Minho even felt like the words just got caught in his belly and wouldn’t move any closer to his mouth.
Minho took it one step at a time, making sure that his feet didn’t make a loud noise on the floor so Appa wouldn’t get angry. Maybe then he would make him some food.
Once he reached Appa’s chair, Minho reached out his hand and gently tapped Appa’s arm. His dad jerked his arm away and looked down at Minho with his big, scary eyes. Minho shuffled back hurriedly so he was out of reach, bowing his head.
“What is it?” Appa grunted. Minho went to open his mouth but it felt like his lips were glued shut. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his tongue to move the way he wanted it to.
“Hurry up, what is it you want, boy?”
Uh oh, Appa was getting grumpy.
Minho brought the hand that wasn’t clutching Bonnie to his belly and rubbed it, trying his hardest to tell Appa what he wanted. Appa scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and bringing a green bottle to his lips.
“If you’re not going to use your words then I’m not going to give you anything. You need to treat me with respect, not like your slave.” Minho was trying his best, why couldn’t Appa understand? He tapped his stomach again, even bringing his hand up to his mouth to mime eating something. Appa just looked at him with those scary eyes again. Minho involuntarily shrank in on himself, lip beginning to quiver and eyes filling with tears of frustration.
“I’m not going to give you anything with that attitude, get out of my sight before I really give you something to cry about. You’re pathetic.” He hissed the last two words before turning back to the TV.
Minho hurried back to his little room, not wanting to make Appa more angry. He went back to his corner and held Bonnie close, using her paw to wipe a tear from his eye. She looked at him with a smile and he tried his very best to smile back. He was a brave boy, he wasn’t going to cry.
He stayed in his corner for a long time. Minho would have tried to sleep but Appa was grumpy and he wanted to be ready just in case anything happened. Yes, he was sleepy, but was better for him to stay awake.
As he waited, Minho began to formulate a plan.
It took a while, but eventually, Minho heard the sounds of his Appa switching off the TV and heading towards his bedroom down the hall where Eomma was sleeping. Now was his chance. His belly was grumbling so much he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.
Carefully making his way over to the door, Minho opened it just as quietly as he had the last time he went out. He had a lot of practice on how to open his door without making a sound.
The small living area of the apartment was dark and empty. There was the quiet rumble of cars down on the streets below which helped to mask Minho’s shaky breathing as he tip-toed over into the tiny kitchen.
The cupboards were really high up off the ground, but Minho had thought this part through. He pulled one of the chairs from the dining table over to the edge of the bench, flinching at every noise it made against the wooden floor. Each time, he froze and listened with all his might to make sure that he hadn’t woken up his parents.
After lots of careful climbing, Minho had made it onto the bench! He still had to go onto his tippy-toes to reach the cupboards, but he was just tall enough to push them open.
Minho was so hungry that he grabbed the first thing he could see—a packet of instant ramyeon. He pulled it open and began crunching on the dry noodles, completely forgetting to be quiet. He was just so happy to have something in his belly.
Everything came crashing down, however, when a light at the end of the hall flicked on.
Minho froze.
He knew it was useless to try and run, to try and cover up his crime, so he just waited. Waited as the angry footsteps came closer…and closer…and closer.
Appa came storming around the corner, eyes angrier than ever as he spotted Minho sitting on the bench.
“Oh you little—“ he muttered as he stormed over to Minho. “What the fuck do you think you were doing? Huh?” he asked, gripping Minho’s arm so tight that it hurt. Minho tried to pull his Appa’s fingers off of his arm, but it was completely useless. He was too strong.
“Oh, now you don’t want to make sound? After you woke me up with your racket out here? Answer me, you piece of shit, what where you doing?” Minho didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, trapped by his Appa’s grip on him, but he couldn’t say anything. He knew exactly how he wanted to answer the question being yelled at him, he knew what to say, but the words were getting tangled in his throat, not even allowing air to pass them.
The only thing that escaped Minho’s mouth was a small whimper, barely audible, but Appa heard it. Oh, Appa heard it.
“What did I tell you about making noise when you’re not answering a question? Or are you too stupid to remember?” Appa poked Minho’s forehead with a thick finger. Minho tried to shuffle away, do anything to put space between him and his father, but he was too weak and Appa was too strong.
With all the effort, Minho let out a strained grunt. Appa wasn’t happy about that.
Minho’s vision became a blur as he was pulled off the bench and practically thrown across the kitchen. He banged into the corner of the small fridge on the opposite side of the room, whimpering as the metal banged against his back.
He didn’t even get a chance to catch his breath because before he knew it, his Appa’s fists were clenching the scruff of his thin shirt, practically lifting him off the floor as he brought their faces close together.
Terror filled Minho’s body as the strong smell of alcohol enveloped him. It was suffocating, he couldn’t breathe.
“If I ever catch you trying to pull shit like that ever again, you’ll be fucking sorry,” Appa spat at him. “Do you understand me?” Minho nodded vigorously, just wanting everything to stop.
“I said, do you understand me?” Appa repeated.
“Yes,” Minho gasped, the singular word being forcefully ripped from his chest.
“That’s what I fucking thought.”
Appa stood up straight, still holding Minho by the scruff of his shirt as he walked towards the boy’s small room. He swung the door open with a crash and threw Minho inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
Minho was left a crumpled mess on his bedroom floor, tears silently slipping down his cheeks as sobs wracked his small body. He didn’t even have the energy to stand up, instead pulling himself along the floor over to his thin futon.
It was then that he realised Bonnie was no longer clutched in his free hand. He must have dropped her at some point during the whole ordeal. This only caused him to cry harder. He needed Bonnie to sleep, now he was going to have to stay awake all night long. Minho then wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to find any sort of comfort, but it wouldn’t replace Bonnie.
He eventually fell asleep like that, tears still damp on his cheeks as he drifted into dreams not much better than his reality. But he had no one to comfort him when he woke up scared, no one to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. Minho just had to deal with it all on his own.
The next morning, Minho woke with a start as the door to his room was opened once more. He immediately sat up, preparing himself for another telling off from his father, but instead of the terrifying, bearded man standing in front of him, his Eomma was the one who stood in the doorway. She looked at him with such annoyance in her eyes that Minho couldn’t help but bow his head.
“Follow me, we’ve got to clean you up so the neighbours don’t ask questions,” she said curtly, pushing Minho by the shoulder towards the dingy bathroom.
Minho’s clothes were practically ripped off of him before he was dropped into the bathtub. Their bathroom was so tiny that what the bath couldn’t provide in length, it provided in depth. Even when he was standing at his full height, Minho wasn’t even able to see over the edge. It felt like a swimming pool. Eomma initially turned on the shower head, spraying Minho with icy water and rubbing aggressively to get the dried blood off of his face. To Minho, it felt like all she was doing was leaving more bruises and marks on his body.
When the waves of cold water eventually stopped, Minho sat shivering in the corner of the tub, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to stay warm. Eomma then turned on the cold tap and threw the plug at Minho.
“You can do the rest,” she practically spat at him before leaving the room.
Minho was left to shove the plug into the drain with trembling hands. But after that…what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t reach any of the soap sitting on the edge of the sink, so that left him to try and rub at his bruised skin without it hurting too much.
It was painful, of course it was painful, but Minho had grown somewhat used to it over the years. Sometimes he would find himself imagining what it would feel like to have an adult, a nice one, clean the blood from his skin and wash him with gentle hands until he was all squeaky clean.
Once the bath was full enough for Minho’s liking, he got to his feet and attempted to stop the water from filling the tub.
But he couldn’t reach the taps.
No matter how much he stretched or whatever edge he climbed on, he couldn’t reach the taps. The water just kept coming.
But that’s okay, he could just take the plug out. Eomma might get a little angry with him for wasting water but at least he wasn’t using any of their gas. Minho wasn’t exactly sure what she meant when she said she “didn’t want to waste gas on him” but that had to mean he wasn’t using any of it, right?
Crouching down, Minho tried his very best to pull the plug and let the water drain, but it wouldn’t work. The top of their plug was almost completely flat at the top and he couldn’t get his fingers around the slippery rubber object to pull it out of the drain.
Now was when the panic really set in. What was he supposed to do? Minho’s arms weren’t strong enough to pull himself out of the bath and he would make too much noise if he jumped. Plus, jumping might cause him to fall and hurt himself even more.
The water was already at his tummy when he was standing up and he didn’t know what to do. It was chilling him to the bones, making it hard to move properly. Minho tried to call out for Eomma but the words just wouldn’t come.
It was now at his elbows, splashing every time he moved his arms.
When his shoulders went underwater, Minho finally decided to bite the bullet. He splashed over to the wall and began hitting his hand against it over and over again, trying his very best to get someone’s, anyone’s, attention.
“Shut up with that racket!” came Appa’s voice, muffled through the door. Minho whined helplessly, putting all of his might into hitting his little fist against the wall.
He stopped eventually. No one was coming to help him.
Minho stood in the bath, going as high up on his tippy toes as he could in an effort to stop water from going into his mouth. His breathing was raggedy and quick as it took more and more effort to expand his chest. The water was feeling heavier and heavier around him as the water came closer and closer to his mouth.
As Minho breathed in an extra deep breath, trying to get enough air into his lungs, a little bit of water trickled between his lips. He immediately began coughing and spluttering but that only caused more water to flow into his mouth and down his windpipe.
The water was now over his head, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel anything but slick walls around him as he stretched out his hands in an attempt to grab onto something, anything.
Black began smudging across his vision and Minho couldn’t feel his limbs anymore. He tried to move them but it felt like trying to move objects across the room with your mind. Nothing was happening and the silence was deafening.
Just as Minho felt like he was about to fall asleep, rough hands grabbed him under the arms and yanked him upwards.
He coughed and spluttered as he was dropped on the hard, cold floor.
“Are you really that fucking stupid? You couldn’t turn the water off yourself? How pathetic.” The voice sounded distant, as if it was bouncing around inside his head, but he could tell that it was Eomma’s.
“Let’s get this straight, I didn’t pull you out because I love you,” she spat down at Minho, who was curled up on the bath mat, still coughing water out of his lungs. “I pulled you out because I wanted to avoid the paperwork. You’re not worth that much of my time.”
She then left Minho all alone, slamming the door behind her.
He didn’t have the energy to move, barely able to move his chest up and down enough to breathe. As he lay there, Minho began to wonder what it would feel like for someone to actually love him. His parents certainly didn’t, Eomma had pretty clearly stated that just a few moments ago, but if they couldn’t love him, then could anyone?
Served him right, Appa was always telling him that he was being too loud or too quiet. It was always Minho’s fault in the end.
Perhaps he was just…unlovable.
The End.