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Jeongin was so sleepy. Last night, his parents had been awake for a very long time, staying in the living room and keeping the lights on for what felt like years. All he had wanted to do was curl up under his blanket and fall into a deep sleep, but the voices of his parents echoing off the walls had kept him up. Every time his eyelids had drooped or his posture wasn't perfect, one of them would always snap their fingers in front of his face to wake him again. It was exhausting.
When they had finally gone to bed, Jeongin couldn't even sleep. Although his body was exhausted, his mind wouldn’t let him relax. His muscles were tense and his throat felt dry.
So, instead of sleeping, he lay on the uncomfortably lumpy couch and stared out the window across the room. He imagined being a ninja who had snuck into his own house through that very window, able to do all sorts of tricks and jumps without making a sound. He even imagined what he might look like in the cool ninja outfit, only his eyes visible. But that might not be such a good thing, his eomma always said that his eyes were much too thin, always completely disappearing into his face when he smiled. So Jeongin had learnt not to smile, at least not with his eyes. Maybe when he grew up he could become a world-famous ninja like the ones on TV that had their own unique costume, one that didn't even show his eyes.
As sunlight slowly began to illuminate the room, something that was happening much earlier now the summer months were upon them, Jeongin knew that he had to get up. Eomma and Appa would be expecting him to have done half of his chores by the time they were up. If they weren't done, or if he took too many breaks while doing them, they would punish him. Jeongin didn't like being punished, especially by Appa after he came home from his proper job. He was always tired and irritable, which meant that he was extra rough with Jeongin.
Just the thought of his appa getting angry with him so early in the morning was enough to get Jeongin off the couch.
The walk to the cleaning cupboard was practically muscle memory for Jeongin at this point. He sometimes tried to test himself and close his eyes as he did it, just to make it a slightly more enjoyable task for him. However, there was one time that he had accidentally tripped over a dirty shirt that had been lying on the floor and he had made a loud crashing noise as he hit the ground. Jeongin had cried and cried, unsure what else he could do about the immense pain in the wrist he had landed on.
Eomma had been the one to get angry at him that time.
And so Jeongin had learnt not to cry.
There were a lot of things he had learned not to do. When it felt like you were punished for every little thing you ever did, there wasn’t much else you could do. Jeongin avoided doing things that made him a kid, not because he wanted to, but because it was what he was forced to do in order to survive.
Jeongin then got into his usual routine of taking out the trash that had somehow piled up over the last 24 hours. He was always told to do this job first because apparently he took too long to open the big trash bin under the apartment complex and it would inconvenience the other residents if he did it at the same time as them.
He always secretly enjoyed this part. There was something about going down the elevator by himself, big black bag in hand, that made him feel so grown up. This was an adult job and he was given the grand task of completing it. Or at least that was what he told himself.
Once Jeongin made his way back into the apartment, he picked up the cleaning products he had left neatly on the living room table and began to clean.
He cleaned and he cleaned until his arms felt sore. When the burning in his shoulders began, Jeongin knew it was only the start. He still had so many more things he needed to do, and that was only counting the jobs that needed to be completed by the time his parents woke up.
The living room table was wiped down until it was sparkling, the couches were brushed in preparation for their vacuuming later, any bottles left behind by his father were picked up and put into a box to be taken to the recycling later, food left out on the kitchen counter was put back in the fridge before the entire bench surface was scrubbed.
When Jeongin had done all that, he leaned against one of the kitchen cupboards and slid onto the floor with a sigh. The tiles were cold beneath his toes, but it was enjoyable since his body felt so hot after working so hard.
He could close his eyes for a few seconds, he thought to himself. It wasn’t like anyone would get upset with him for taking a short break, look at all the things he had done already!
How wrong he was.
Only a few moments after his eyelids had closed, there was the sound of angry footsteps storming towards him. Jeongin’s eyes flew open and scrambled to his feet, straightening his back and crossing his hands behind his back.
“What on earth did you think you were doing?” his eomma hissed at him through her teeth. Jeongin had to fight off a flinch.
“Well come on, speak up!”
“I—I was just—“ Jeongin stammered, staring pointedly at his eomma's feet rather than her face.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses! They’re all lies anyway. All you do is lie, lie, lie.” On the three final words, she poked Jeongin hard in the chest. He had to try his very best not to show how much it hurt. Her finger then trailed up his chest until it reached his chin, where she forced him to look her right in the eye.
“You know what I think needs to happen?” she asked him, her voice sickly sweet and a toothy smile on her face to match it. “I think you need to be taught a lesson. This place is still filthy and you thought you deserved to rest? That’s just ridiculous.”
His eomma then grabbed him by the wrist and began dragging him down the short corridor of their tiny apartment. Jeongin knew what was coming, he knew he needed to be punished for slacking off, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Eomma threw him against the wall of her bedroom, where Appa was still fast asleep in bed, and she towered over him like a predator approaching its prey. Jeongin pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes tight as he prepared himself for the pain.
The first blow was always the worst. His eyes watered and his cheek tingled as his eomma’s hand made contact. But she didn’t stop. She kept slapping and hitting and punching every part of his little body she could reach. With each hit, she spat some disciplining words at him, but there came a point where Jeongin couldn’t even hear her over the ringing in his ears. He could already feel that these bruises were going to last for days. They always did.
By the time his eomma was satisfied with the beating, Jeongin was left to stagger to his feet and walk hunched over out of the bedroom.
With tears blurring his vision, Jeongin limped back down the hallway and back into the kitchen, picking up the cleaning chemicals he had left on the floor with shaking hands. Back to cleaning he went.
Now Jeongin had learnt that he couldn’t take breaks, even when he was tired.
Jeongin barely paid attention as his parents walked around him, preparing themselves for their long days at work. His father had his dress shirt and pants on as he examined the contents of the fridge. Huffing, he stood up straight again. Jeongin could feel the man glaring at the back of his head.
“If only he were old enough to send to the supermarket by himself without people asking questions,” his appa muttered to himself. “Only another reason you’re fucking useless.” He cuffed Jeongin around the head as he walked past and chose an apple from the almost empty fruit bowl. Usually, a light cuff around the head from a parent would be a comforting thing, a light tap as a joke, but not this one. Jeongin was nearly thrown onto the floor with the force his appa hit him.
As his father walked away, Jeongin could hear him chuckling quietly to himself before taking a bite of the apple. At the sound of the crisp apple being munched, Jeongin felt his belly rumble. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he had eaten something proper. He had been given a pitifully small bowl of rice and half-cooked egg the night before, but that wasn’t enough to keep him going for the whole day. Perhaps he would be able to find something that his parents wouldn’t notice to be missing while they were out of the house.
The boy continued to clean every surface in the house long after he heard the sound of his mother’s heels disappear down the hallway of the apartment building. There had been a couple of times in the past when his parents had come back unexpectedly early, having forgotten a file or other, and caught Jeongin sneaking something he wasn’t supposed to. Those beatings had been some of the worst he had ever experienced, along with lectures about breaking his parents’ trust.
Once all of his morning chores were complete, Jeongin was swaying on his feet. His legs felt like jelly and his hands were shaking so badly he could barely pull back the trigger of the spray bottles. Everything ached and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but he knew that if he didn’t eat something now, he might not get the chance before his parents came home from work.
Using all of his energy, Jeongin climbed up the little step ladder he used to reach the kitchen bench and stood on the very top step, stretching as far as he could in order to open the kitchen cupboards. There wasn’t much inside them, but he would have to make do. Whatever he had didn’t need to taste good, it just needed to fill his empty belly.
It was then that he spotted a packet of rice crackers hidden in the back corner of the cupboard. Going onto his tippy toes and stretching his arm out as far as he could, Jeongin just managed to wrap his little fingers around the plastic wrapper. Grinning, he jumped down onto the floor, rice crackers in hand, and took off the clip, shoving his hand into the packet and stuffing his cheeks.
The crackers were definitely stale, being more chewy than crunchy, but if it worked it worked. He didn’t even really pay attention to the taste of the crackers anyway, being more focused on chewing and swallowing before shoving the next handful into his mouth.
Soon enough, the packet was empty and Jeongin’s belly was a little less painful. The crackers certainly weren’t enough to keep him going for an extended period of time, but they would work for now. All that was left was to dispose of the evidence.
Picking up the spare key from its hiding place, Jeongin opened the door to the apartment and made his way towards the elevator. He would have taken the stairs but he didn’t think his legs could handle the strain of climbing back up them.
Pressing the down button, Jeongin waited idly as the number above the elevator went up and up and up.
The door opened with a ding and he trotted inside, pressing the basement button and waiting patiently for the doors to slide close.
Jeongin was alone for the majority of the ride down to the basement until he reached the third floor. The doors slid open and a halmeoni walked inside, a flowery bag over one of her arms. Jeongin smiled at her, bowing deeply before shuffling sideways to give her more room.
“Are you quite alright, dear?” the halmeoni asked, looking down at Jeongin with creased eyebrows.
“I’m alright, thank you, ma’am. I’m just taking out the trash,” Jeongin told her, smiling.
“Isn’t that your parents’ job? Why are they making you do it, you’re far too young to be doing it all by yourself.” Jeongin shook his head.
“It’s really okay, ma’am. I take out the trash every morning and every night, I know how to do it.” He even held up the crumpled-up wrapper to show her how truthful he was being. The halmeoni hummed. It wasn’t a happy hum, but Jeongin couldn’t quite tell what type of hum it was exactly.
“Where are your parents? What apartment number do you live in?” the halmeoni asked after a few moments.
“They’re at work right now, I’m just getting my jobs done before they get home. We live in apartment 704.” Before the halmeoni could say anything else, they had arrived at the ground floor–the button she had pressed when entering the elevator.
“Well, I’ll come bring you some yummy food as a treat tomorrow,” she said as she exited the elevator, scanning his body once more.
“Thank you, ma’am, thank you very much,” Jeongin said, bowing deeply again.
The rest of the trip to the trash bins under the apartment building was uneventful, Jeongin disposed of his rubbish without any problems before heading back up to the apartment. He then moved on to completing his afternoon chores before his parents came home from work.
Hours later, the lock of the front door clicked and the sound of his mother entering the house could be heard. Jeongin hurried towards the entranceway, bowing deeply.
“Welcome home, Eommeo-nim,” he said to the floor. He felt his mother’s hand on the back of his head and had to try his hardest not to flinch away from the touch. She stroked his hair with an unusual softness before tilting his head up by the chin with her finger. She smiled down at him, not her usual, terrifying smiles, but a soft, kind smile.
“It’s good to see you again, my beautiful boy. You’re exactly who I needed to see after a long day at work.” His mother then planted a kiss on his forehead before sliding on her slippers and heading towards her room.
Jeongin didn’t know what was happening. His eomma had done this sort of thing before, acting super nice after punishing him, but it confused him each and every time. It was such a dramatic switch up from her usual demeanour that he wasn’t sure how to react. She would inevitably go back to her usual, strict ways so Jeongin knew not to trust a word she said while in this mood.
His mother came out of her room a couple of minutes later, having changed into some more comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Oh, my baby, your face has a little graze on it, how on earth did that happen?” she asked, kneeling down and cupping Jeongin’s face in her hand. It was you, wasn’t it? Jeongin thought to himself. You know how it happened, why are you pretending?
“I’ll get that all cleaned up for you, just wait here a moment.” And just like that, she disappeared again, this time into the bathroom.
All Jeongin could do was just stand right where she had left him. If anything changed, she might be snapped out of her happy mood and start hitting him again.
Shortly after entering the bathroom, Jeongin’s mother came back, a small, colourful plaster in her hand. She smiled down at him, holding it up to his eyes.
“Look at how cute it is, so nice and bright with all the colours on it. It matches perfectly with my precious little boy.” She then opened the plaster and placed it gently on his cheek. The touch was unfamiliar to Jeongin. It was rare that he was ever treated with such care and gentleness, so the feeling of his mother’s fingertips lightly grazing his cheek were unusual to him.
“I’m going to make us some yummy food now, how does that sound?” she asked him, still smiling that odd smile. Jeongin just nodded, too scared to say anything that could upset his mother.
The apartment was soon filled with the smell of delicious fried kimchi and vegetables as Jeongin’s mother stirred the fried rice in one of the pans. Jeongin just watched with a watering mouth and grumbling belly, the rice crackers he had eaten earlier that day long gone.
The boy was given a generous serving of the now-finished fried rice and shuffled over to the couch happily. His mother joined him a few moments later, a bowl in her own hand. The two sat in silence as they ate. It would have been comfortable in any other situation, painfully mundane and domestic, but Jeongin’s body was tense. His arms felt stiff every time he brought a spoonful of rice to his mouth, fearing that his mother would take the bowl away from him at any moment. Even though he had no reason to, he was preparing himself for the worst,
Once his bowl was empty, Jeongin still wanted more. He wasn’t sure when the next time his mother would be so loving would be so wanted to make the most of having food while he could. He turned to face her on the couch, kneeling on the cushions in an effort to seem extra polite and good.
“Eommeo-nim?” he asked nervously. His mother turned to look at him, smiling.
“Yes, my love?”
“Could…could I please have some more?” Her expression changed in an instant. As her eyes flashed, Jeongin knew he had made a mistake.
“You really want more? I gave you so much, and cooked for you even after I was exhausted from work, and you still want more? What kind of child have I raised to be begging for more when they already have so much? No, you can’t have more, you stupid brat!” With the final words, she smacked the bowl out of Jeongin’s hands, the last remaining grains of rice being thrown all over the carpet.
“Clean it up! Clean it up, I said, clean it!” his mother shrieked at him. Jeongin scrambled off the couch and hurried to pick up each and every grain of rice off of the carpet.
“This is exactly what your brother did,” his mother muttered as she glared down at her son. “He begged and begged for more until we threw him out onto the streets. That’s where greed gets you, the streets. Do you want to end up on the streets? Then you can beg all day every day. Wouldn’t be much different from now, would it?” Jeongin shook his head.
“What do you say?” she spat once he was finished cleaning up the mess.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Jeongin said, bowing deeply to his mother. She tsked, shaking her head.
“I’m sure you are. Now get out of my sight.”
Jeongin scurried out of the living room and down the hallway, running into the first hiding place he could find–the hall cupboard. He pulled the doors closed behind him and shuffled into the corner of the cupboard, knees pressed close to his chest.
He stayed there for a long time. When his appa came home, neither of his parents came to look for him. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps hiding was the best thing he could do.
Hiding in his little corner of the cupboard, he was safe.
The End.