This country was originally ruined.

From the Joseon period of three kingdoms to the 20th century, it was all ruined. It was all incorrect.

I was let go from the office. Yes, it was without notice as well. School...no, today was a weekend. It was difficult to think any further, so I didn't. Simply I chose to throw a laptop bag onto the olive couch and not think of anything else.

It was a comfortable idleness.

But only for a moment. Then it just bored me, so I began writing. It was a hasty few lines - maybe for a diary or some kind of journal. I tried to keep one in the past, but the hero eventually found out. Anyway, envying those with better lives than me, those few sentences flipped the script. Their contentment, peace and stability were words of avarice, only meant to be a parasite to this world. That confidence or 'organised' facade were the same. All of it melted into a fit pitiful despair.

I think I stopped meeting people after that. He wasn't happy I was working, anyway. It'd be a little different if my salary was higher..I went into our son's room, feeling under his bed. My ears perked at his soft breathing— he wouldn’t wake up for too long. And felt the hardened ridge of the knife.Yes, this was it.

Closing the door behind me,the corridor was quiet with only faint headlights flashing on the wall. My reflection in the steel shifted at dusk. Every time I studied myself my view changed. Brown hair strands draped downwards and shielded my eyes loosely, but from this angle.. sometimes there was warm gaze, while others it was as if I was regarding dirt. Out of habit, I raised the blade upwards. And brought it down. Only acting, of course.

If I truly stabbed him..

"You deserved it from the beginning. There wasn't anything else I could do. No, you caused this."

I justified myself. Twisting the knife in my head, it became a dance of footsteps as he cried out in my personal theatre.

"You were beyond reason. You didn't deserve to live."

Still, I couldn’t write the last sentence. Didn’t I bear with this for a long time? Why was it so difficult now? If I hesitated it’d just become like any other day. I didn’t want to relive this story. I couldn’t.

So, I stabbed and stabbed. Immersed, my foot slipped on the carpet dropping the knife with a clatter. Ah. It was just my imagination. Did I think if I killed him, everything would change? I still wouldn’t be able to repay any loans on time. Debt after debt would pile up,and I’d have no way out.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Haha..ha..”

Dry laughter filled the silence. It wasn’t that funny, but I kept gasping for air.

Reality wouldn’t be so smooth that things would end neatly after his death. Maybe one day, he would just vanish, and I didn’t need to do anything. My skirt pressed into the floorboards as an icy chill passed over me. I couldn’t look away from the knife as it’s gleam reflected the stars. It was a devilish salvation.

The only way I knew was here.

Thinking that again, again and again, I grabbed it by the toughened handle and hid it under his bed in a rush. I wonder if he was pretending to sleep then. If he knew what mother was planning, would he have tried to stop me?

What about our neighbours, that elderly couple, my reason..even that bastard, himself. I stood at the foot of his bed in that daze for what felt like years. It was years wasn’t it, Dokja? Despairing, I came to realise once more the necessity of our next. As long as I wrote that sentence, then surely there’d be a day to come where I could read this for the last time. Of this damned trauma, and the never-ending story it brought.

That day, my cheer felt oddly great. I remember pulling at my turtleneck as it revealed faintly coloured maroon spots, and my head felt filled with cotton. Still, it didn't fade even when I was threatened and dragged on the floor. My back stung with bruises while each breath was like thorns. My hair slowly fell forward, covering a fair few. It was a shame it couldn’t cover everything— then I could’ve reassured that child better. That this too, was only a ‘story’...the most terrible nightmare he’d soon wake up from.

The bang of the door was quite loud. Originally, it used to be surprising.

"..go to sleep. I'll take you to school tomorrow."

Only his white t-shirt was clearly visible. There was a faint rim-light, but it meant nothing as my vision kept blurring. That small body trembled under the table. If I listened carefully, I heard quick breathing and hiccups. His hands covered his ears, messing his hair as he was shaking trying block out the world.

"Dokja."

Crawling a bit further, I managed to pat his head with one hand. I held a butter knife in the other. It crashed while we were arguing about me getting a second job. I knew I couldn't do it now. It wasn't efficient. Even if I found what casino he was in, angered lovers were only a good laugh. Another trick of addiction. Yes, it could even end worse for me – trafficking or abductions weren’t fiction, after all.

But even then, I..veins flexed and popped from my clenched fist. Slamming it down, I shook his shoulders. The knife spun and danced into the couch. He had to shake off his fear. Yet, he flinched away from me as if I was the enemy. No,no..

"We'll go to the library afterwards, okay? After lessons. Don't let anyone realise, understood?"

"Yes."

"We'll play as well."

"I don't like playing. It's noisy…"

"Then we'll read together."

"Okay."

I spoke desperately, and he mumbled quietly in turn. If he was listening to me, he could live. Yes, he would be able to live on and walk out confidently from this doorstep. Without looking back.

I thought so.

What I didn’t want to see was how looked to the side, strands of hair falling in front of his face and with an unclear expression. I didn’t like it. Who knows their child best but their mother?

Yet, I couldn’t read his expression. It was inscrutable. Nevertheless, the world moved on and I eventually picked up the call for an ‘intervention’ of sorts.