Taehyung/The Notes

**The Notes** by **Taehyung**, written in the form of diary entries.

I entered the living room after taking off my shoes and dropping my bag, and my dad was inside. I didn't think of how long it had been since I last saw him, or where he had been. I just ran into his embrace. I can't recall clearly what happened afterward. Did I first smell the alcohol, hear him curse at me, or get slapped by him? It didn't know what was actually happening. He reeked of alcohol, his breathing was rough and he had foul breath. His eyes were bloodshot and his beard was unkempt. Then he used his big hand to hit me, asked me what I was looking at, and hit me again. Then he lifted me high up in the air. Although his bloodshot eyes were scary, I couldn't cry because I was too scared.

That was not my dad. No, he was, but he didn't feel like it. I kicked my leg in the mid-air. In the next moment, my head hit the wall and I fell to the floor.

I felt like my head was going to explode.

My sight became blurry and gradually darkened, and all I could hear in my mind was my dad's breathing.

I slid down the corridor, a rhythmic sound on the floors. And then I stopped. I could see Namjoon standing in front of our classroom. Our classroom. Though nobody knew, I called that place our classroom. Me, and the others, the classroom for us seven. I approached silently. I was thinking of surprising him.

"Principal!" As I took my fifth footstep or so, through the slightly open classroom window, a hurried voice could be heard. It seemed like Seokjin.

Was it that Seokjin was speaking to the principal? In our classroom? Why?

Then I could hear Yoongi's and my name, and Namjoon sucking in a surprised breath. As if he could hear my noiseless footsteps, Seokjin threw open the door. I couldn't see Namjoon's expression. I hid and watched them. As Seokjin opened his mouth, as if to deny something, Namjoon held up his hand and spoke.

"It's okay." Seokjin made an expression as if confused.

"There must have been a reason for you to say." With those words, Namjoon swept past Seokjin.

I could not believe it. Seokjin told the principal about the things Yoongi and I had done in the past few days. He explained everything, that we had skipped class, jumped over the barrier, and had fought with some kids. But Namjoon had told us we would be okay.

"What are you doing here?" Turning around in surprise, I realized it was Hoseok and Jimin. Hoseok pretended to be even more surprised as he hung his arm around my shoulder. Suddenly, he dragged me into the classroom. Namjoon and Seokjin were speaking to each other before looking back to see us. Seokjin awkwardly stood up before saying he had to take care of something, then left. I studied Namjoon's expression. He watched Seokjin's back as he left, and then looked at us with a smile as if nothing had happened. At that moment, I realized something. There must be a reason why he is acting like that. He knows more than me, is smarter than me and is way more of an adult than me. And this is our classroom. I posted a square smile on my face, the one everyone laughed at me for saying I looked like an idiot and walked into the classroom.

I decided not to tell anyone that I had heard that conversation.
 **29 March Year 22**

The owner of the gas station spat on the floor and left. I laid crouching on the floor still. I graffitied the back wall of the gas station and was caught by the owner and got hit. I rolled on the floor. Being hit was a familiar thing, but it still hurt.

It was a while ago when I started graffiti art. I had picked up the leftover spray. It looked like it was yellow. I just sprayed it at random and bright yellow on the gray wall. I gave the wall another spray. I only stopped my hand after all the spray cans were empty. I couldn't wait to go back. I did not know significance of the colors I'd put on the wall yet. What I did... why i did it... I did not know yet.

Just one thing I could say as that I felt the colors in my heart. At first I thought I was ugly. It was stupid, useless and pitiful. I did not like it. I rubbed off the undried paint that was on my palms. I wanted to erase everything. Instead of the paint being erased, it mixed into different colors and formed into different shapes.

I sat against the wall. It was not the matter of heart and soul. It was not the problem of being beautiful or not. It was just me. I coughed when lifted myself up. Blood poured out from my mouth. And then I saw someone's hand pick up the spray can. As I followed the hand, I saw his face. It was Namjoon Hyung.

I laughed. I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought it was an illusion. I must've been hit pretty hard. Hyung extended his hand. I just looked up. Namjoon Hyung took my hand and pulled me to my feet. His hands were warm.

I looked down at my hands. There was blood on them. My legs suddenly lost their strength. I was going to crouch down but someone hugged me from behind. Through the windows, a misty sunlight was filtering through. My sister was crying and Hoseok was standing there without speaking. Dirty household goods and blankets were, like always, spread around. Where my father had stood, nobody was there. How he had fled the room, I could not remember.

The anger and sadness that I could not contain as I rushed towards my father still remained. I personally did not know what it was that had allowed me to control myself as I charged to stab my father. I also did not know how to calm my turbulent heart. It wasn't that I wanted to kill my father; I wanted to kill myself. If I was just able to do it, I wanted to die right now. I didn't even have tears. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to kick and break everything, I wanted to break, but I couldn't do any of those things.

"Hoseok. I'm sorry. I'm okay so. Go." In contrast to my turbulent heart, my voice came out dry. It did not seem like my voice. I sent away my friend that was loathing to leave and I looked down at my hands. Blood was seeping through the white bandage. Instead of stabbing my father again, I hit the floor with the liquor bottle. As the bottle shattered, my palm ripped. As I closed my eyes, the world spun.

What I was supposed to think, what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to live. As I came to my senses, I was looking down at Namjoon's phone number. Even in such a situation, no, more so because it was such a situation, I was desperate for his's presence. I wanted to tell him. Namjoon. I, my father, the father that bore me, the father that beat me up daily, I was about to kill him. I was seriously about to kill him. No, in actual fact, I killed him. I killed him countless times. In my heart, I killed him repeatedly. I killed him. I want to die. What I have to do now, I don't know at all. Namjoon.

I just want to see you now.
 **20 May Year 22**@Smeraldo\_Books: I wanted to kill myself instead of Dad. I could, I wanted to drop dead right then and there. |  | **22 May Year 22**

I passed by the area of trees again where I received Namjoon's call. Recently that thing had continued to happen. I moved to a place where no one could hear me. I purposely slowed down my pace and hid near the sea. He didn't see me and simply passed by.

"Aren't you just one year older than me? Whatever. It's not something you have to be responsible for anyway. I'll take care of it."

There was something cold that climbed up my back only to disappear. Everything in my world seemed to have collapsed. It was as if I was struggling in the deep sea, making others feel cold and scared, tragic and lonely. I was angry. I felt that I couldn't tolerate it anymore. I wanted to stop everything. I wanted to hit him, but that smaller part of me was still scared. My Dad's blood inherently flew in my veins as well. His DNA was my DNA. Was there violence in me too? There was something that wanted to burst out of my tightly wound body.

I purposely slowed my footsteps and perked my ears up at the sound that someone walking behind me. Today was the third time we had met at the convenience store. If there was something that was different, it was that today they had run away as soon as they saw me. Then they hung around in a small vacant lot behind the store. As soon as I appeared they hid again. They hid well, but their shadow was reaching far towards the front of the abandoned lot. I laughed. I passed by pretending not to see. They started to follow me.

I entered a narrow alley. This was the only place in our neighborhood where the street lamps weren't broken. The alley was long and the streetlamp was located somewhere in the middle. When the source of light was ahead of my shadow stretched behind. My shadow probably stretch all the way to the feet of the person who was following me with bated breath. As I passed beneath the streetlamp, my shadow disappeared beneath my feet. I started walking a little faster. Not long after a shadow that wasn't mine appeared on the cement road. I stopped my steps. The presence behind me stopped too. The two shadows of different heights stopped side by side.

I spoke. "I'm going to wait until you come here." The shadow jumped. It held still as if saying it wasn't there. "I can see everything " I pointed out the shadow. The sound of footsteps started to grow closer, purposefully noisy. I laughed.
 **17 July Year 22**

I thought my side was going to rip apart in pain. My sweat dripped. The hiding place in the railway, the empty lot behind the corner store, underneath the overpass, the girl was not to be found. I ran even to the bus stop but here too, they were unable to be seen. Those waiting for the bus stared at me strangely. What had happened? We hadn't promised to meet, but it was still strange. She always turned up somewhere and followed me wherever I went. Even if I said she was annoying, it was useless. But in any of the places we'd been together, his shadow could not be found.

Having arrived at a familiar wall, I stopped my footsteps. It was graffiti we had done together. It was also the first artwork she had completed. On top of it, a huge X sign had been drawn. It was that girl. I hadn't even seen them, but I still knew. How? There was no answer, per se. But on the wall, there were many images superimposed on each other.

The way they laughed on the day I lay on the railway and hurt my head. The way they had helped me rise after I fell trying to help, the face as they were mad when I stole their bread to eat it. The way their expression would dim when we passed a family portrait store. The way their eyes would unknowingly trail after passing students. As we sprayed this wall, I said this. "If something's hard, don't just suffer alone, and tell me." The X was drawn over all our memories. It felt like they were saying all of those things were fake. It felt like they were saying everything was a lie. Without knowing, I curled my hand into a fist. Why? There was no answer, of course. I turned and walked away. I was alone again. That girl, and myself, both alone.

I found a small letter. The person who had written it addressed
them self as 'X'. It was a short sentence that someone had mulled over for a few minutes before writing it down. It was her. I did not see her write the letter herself, nor did I know her font,
but I knew. The letter was like a last greeting.

"Many things have happened to you... know that I am not leaving you because you are a bad person." It seems like she is telling me to be courageous and to not suffer.

When I got home I felt sick as I heard my sister scream. I threw open the front door, stopping short as I saw an all too familiar scene in front of me. I stopped my father from hitting her again by grabbing his arm, looking straight into his face. He was surprised. I took that to my advantage as I swung my fist at his face.

My sister screamed again as he punched me back. I tasted rusty iron in my mouth. My chin hurt. I grabbed my father by the waist. He screamed angrily at me. I ruthlessly punched at his back and shoulders. The more furious I became, the harder my punches got. It was not painful and it was not scary, but the same cycle would be repeated if I put my hand on my father any more than I already had.

I wanted to change. I really wanted to change. No, I'm not like my father. I will protect my family.