#iv. ❛ how much can you lie before you get tired. ( para. )

[micvhisms]

i had all and then most of you, some and now, none of you. take me                                          back to the night we met.   /    iv.

micah’s rehearsed this speech upwards of a hundred times now. he’s planned it out to the very number of breaths he takes in between words. he’s planned for every question he might get. the drafted texts to daniel sit in his phone, untouched, just in case he decides to talk himself out of this. because the last thing he wants is to start another fight tonight. when julian slings harsh words, and sofia echoes them, he’ll just let them, because the fight is all out of him. micah knows when a battle is lost, and this one was over before he was aware that it began.

he’s prepared for a lot when he walks into hq. he’s prepared for the  anger, the insults, the rejection.

he’s not prepared to lose his best friend.

the news seeps in slowly, then all at once. his breath quickens, then it stops altogether. he takes it in, closes his eyes against his grief. he doesn’t think he even deserves to ━━

blair maxwell doesn’t look like the type of girl to be found in a creative writing class. she doesn’t even look like the type to do her own work. but she sits two seats away from him, among one of the eight students called out for having outstanding papers. she sits prim and proper, with an air of superiority that even micah can’t match, on some days. she glances his way once, and micah knows they aren’t going to be friends.

━━ mourn them. he’s been AVOIDING THEM, for the past year, almost. and yeah, he’s bridged that gap a little. he’s called a truce on this one-sided silent war of his, where he’s running, running, running from daniel, from everything daniel is. he’s started up with blair, right where they left off, though that isn’t much. he’s a little worn down, but the two of them still carry themselves with a different sort of air than everyone else. and maybe he only does it when he’s with her. 

no.

only did it.

verena’s words echo in his mind again, and again, and again, and ag━━

daniel taupo has some sort of fascination with gathering every fucked up individual in school and crafting the space around them into something that can easily be called home. he does it with micah, and with naomi, and damaris, and verena, and bryce, and even cristian, and lord knows not everyone can handle cristian. but daniel does, and micah knows that he genuinely sees them all as some sort of family. it’s insane that they’re even friends, but they’re MORE now, and that.

that’s something.

daniel taupo is something, and micah wishes he were a little more reluctant to call him a friend.

━━ain, until they sink all the way in, and oh. micah needs to do something. needs to find ashley, no, fuck, naomi, oh god, naomi. but his feet stay planted. he can’t move, and even if he could, what would he do? hug her? tell her it’s going to be okay? it’s NOT. because if daniel and blair, the strongest of them all, went down, then what hope do they have?

he needs to see the twins, needs to make sure they’re okay, he needs to get them far away from here. he’ll fight mayer himself, but if he touches those twins, god so help him.

micah thinks these things, knows he needs to move, but he stands there, in the midst of the tears and the anguish and the disbelief, and he━━

two years later, they’re in college together, all eight of them, and he’s still a dirtbag, but she’s a queen, and somehow, they’re friends. she doesn’t ask him to ━━ would probably gut him like a fucking fish if she found out ━━ but he gets into a few fights for her. once in high school, when someone says some shit about her and neither she nor daniel are there to defend her, and once in college, when some guys think they can say whatever they want about her, regardless of how lewd it is. when the gang fights out that he’s been in a fight, he doesn’t say shit about blair, and no one ever mentions her, because the two are barely friends. no way would he fight for her.

━━breathes.

❛ it’s a good thing you’re so hot, daniel. otherwise, i don’t know what the fuck i’d do with you. ❜  

you think i’m hot?

❛ obviously. if it doesn’t work out with cristian, i’m coming for you, bro. blair can move on. you and me? we’re getting married. ❜  

he was going to tell them. no, no, that’s a lie, he could’ve never told them. if he was going to, he would’ve. but he wanted to. he wanted to tell daniel, because he really doesn’t LIKE ( DIDN’T LIKE ) keeping shit from daniel, and even though his fearless leader was an idiot, micah trusted him. he could’ve told micah what to do, could’ve saved micah the way he did before. and he wanted to tell blair because blair wouldn’t care the way the others would. she would call him stupid, and she would MEAN IT, but she wouldn’t be sad, or pity him.

he would’ve told them, because the more he thought about it, the less it made sense not to tell them.

he wanted to tell them so much, and he hates himself, more fiercely than he ever has before, that he didn’t. he hates that he wasted his time with them. if he’d known that his days with them were numbered, he would’ve spent them wisely.

it’s daniel’s hand on his chest, and verena’s gaze, and isaiah’s voice, and blair’s eyes across camp, and kimberly’s stricken expression. it’s everything, all of these things that are too honest, and too scary, that keep micah from attacking again. it’s all of these things, and he shoves away from all of them. he walks into the woods, hating himself and everyone, and wanting so badly for mayer to show up, just to put him out of his misery.

micah’s rehearsed this speech upwards of a hundred times now. he’s planned it out to the very number of breaths he takes in between words that he knows he’ll never say. he’s planned for every question he might get. the drafted texts to daniel sit in his phone, untouched, and he wishes he would’ve just sent them. wishes he would’ve called daniel, told him to fuck hq and just come over, so he and micah and blair could talk about this, and she could judge him, and daniel could help him.

but he didn’t.

micah didn’t.

and it feels like it’s all crashing down, all coming apart, all at once, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. but he doesn’t cry. he doesn’t cry, because it’s not fair. he doesn’t have that right. instead, he makes his way across the room, moving like a man possessed, and he pulls naomi into his arms. he knows naomi is feeling so much guilt and fear and shit he can’t imagine, and his feelings don’t compare. he hugs her, holds her tight, much like the night they cried into each other’s shoulders, except tighter, as if to keep mayer away and to keep her from falling apart. micah knows what it’s like to unravel at the seams, and he thinks that maybe if he holds her tight enough, he can keep her together until she stitches herself back up.

it feels like they’re both unraveling, pieces falling into each other, but he’s hiding it just a little better. naomi’s always been a bleeding wound, and if he can act as a bandage, and just hold her up for another few minutes, then that’s enough.

he holds her the way he wishes he’d held daniel one more time, or he’d tried to hug blair. he lets go of family, because that’s what they are, and it’s what they’ve always been, always will be, and he holds onto this one.

micah wishes, just for a moment, that he’d told them he loved them. just once. and he hopes that somewhere in the afterlife, they know that he did.

i don’t know what i’m s’posed to do, holding the ghost of you. take                                                      me back to the night we met.

[nangmaiba]

Nathan James

7 17 2015

The most Scariest and Blessed day of my life so far.

I have never been so scared in my entire life until that day came. I’ll tell the whole story here on tumblr.

My due date was on the July 15th of the year 2015. 2 weeks before the due date, my awesome OB performed and IE and told me that I should walk at least 200m to 500m a day to avoid a cesarean section. So on those past few days before due date, I managed to walk to some parts of our village and completed what the ob said.

On our second to the last appointment, I was still 2cm dilated, our ob said after the IE. Still in dismay, I asked questions on how to resolve the problem and might want other plans just in case. She said that we still have our last week to adhere to the parameters needed to have a Normal delivery. If it didn’t work, she’ll have to induce the labor to avoid stress to the baby. Also she saw some white-ish particles in the ultrasound (white ink on the ultrasound is what you can see on the ultrasound like the baby, some particles and other thing-y, and the black ink particles there is the water.) It could be the baby’s poop or the water level is too thick. (The water is too mature and starting to degrade *not a healthy sign when the baby is still inside*)

Then the next day, I started to walk twice the length of the first prescription. Then the last check up came. It was July 15, 2015. OB performed IE and still, i was still 2 cm dilated. I am expecting that I am at least 4-5 cm dilated. I was so disappointed that day.

Then, our OB gave us a choice to wait for a week or to perform an Induced Labor the next day pronto. We decided to get the baby out the next day. I arranged my things, phone, towel and the baby bag.

On July 16, 2015, Me and The Husband went to the hospital. We filled up the sheets and all, while I’m still waiting for my natural labor to come. After 2-3 hours, the nurse put on an IV on me. I can’t remember what it is I think Oxytocin. My sister came and she’s all out support. (goodie)

I was hungry so Hubs went to buy noodles. Then My OB came and said I can’t eat anymore due to the IV. ughhh. Fast forward, I was being induced that moment. It was 4:00 pm. I was transferred to the 2nd floor. where the labor room, operating room, and the nursery/NICU room are. Then there’s so many nurses and I was still in bed. Then they transferred me to another wheeled bed and I waited for like an hour outside the rooms. I can’t feel any pain. Then, they attached some things on my Belly. It’s a machine that can monitor your contractions. 

It’s like a lie detector test but attached to my belly. Once the thin needle draw earthquake like readings, I just felt some tingling sensation. Then they said, that’s it, it’s a contraction! But I said, is that it? I mean it’s not painful at all. They said, I have a strong pain tolerance. Other mum’s out there felt that painful enough to push. (I felt those tingling sensations 1 and a half weeks prior to this scenario so I guess i was unconsciously having contractions for like 1 and a half weeks until this. :> )

Next thing I know I was transferred again to another room, the Labor room where I had to be induced until the next morning. That whole day was a tiring day since you've haven't had any food, when I was inside the room, that's where all the pain started. The contractions are getting bigger and stronger and longer to the point that I'm making painful gestures with all the wires attache to me and my belly because of the IV Drip. I took a photo of my belly dull of stretch marks to ease the pain. The contractions were a 5-10minute apart. And the nurses are always there, friendly and always checking on me. They even turned off the lights so that I could sleep.

The next day came, July 17, 2015 5am and no progress yet. Still 2cm dilated. Oh by the way, I had 2 female nurses and 1 male nurse which is very friendly and all out support on me too since he knew my sister, he was always on my call. So glad! If it wasn't for him our bills had started to sky-rocket! He said it's the nurses' prerogative to check for the used meds and all but this male nurse, he came into conclusion that I wasn't even in the OR yet and still inside the Labor Room which is BTW has minimal charge unlike if I was staying in the hospital room sooo, yep, good point nurse!

Also, since I haven't eaten anything since yesterday, he said, he will give me food(thank you po lord) but it's our(and the female nurses) secret coz we're not allowed to eat in here. Lol

The monde's mamon and 1 skyflakes pack is all I got to munch on but nonetheless, it sufficed.

Then every 5 mins of all the hours remaining until 6pm in the afternoon is painful since the ob said we need to add dosage to the IV so that I could be in total-labor. That's a total bummer.

3pm, I saw a woman on a hospital bed i think she's injected with anesthesia and the sleeping drug already since she's very calm and she was just on the room for like 5minutes and after that, she went straight to the OR and then performed scheduled C-section. After about 2-3 hours, she was on the labor room again and she's groggy due to the operation.

(I think much better to go with the scheduled one so you wouldn’t endure the pain of an induced one, still, the choice is yours!)

Fast forward, I was very stressed due to the contractions and I haven't eaten anything yet since yesterday and I was all alone in the room without the husband nor the sister. We just communicate through texts.

6:10pm the ob came and said it's time to do the inevitable.

***Cesarean-section***

so I was in labor for a total of 24 hours plus+++++. 😭

I was very nervous that time. So many what if's and all. Someone gave me papers to sign for the approval of doing the c-Section procedure. And then they proceeded to put me into the Operating room. Hubby isn’t allowed at the OR idk why I think, hispital rules? The nurses transferred me to a cross like operating bed and waited for the anesthesiologist to inject some on my spine.

They said this part was a very painful one but It doesn't friggin' hurt. I think i just felt an ant bite on my back but it doesn't really hurt. I think I just had the best anesthesiologist in town.(and a pricey one too 😂)

Anyways after that it immediately spread unto the lower part if my body until the ob came and she said to fasten my arms to the crossed➕ bed and they're checking on my bp. I had High BP that time since I was very nervous. And the aircon was on my feet. Its very cold and I dont know what to expect. Also the very unexpected shoulder dance! After they injected some med on the IV, My shoulders started to shudder like crazy! It’s like I was limbo rocking in the OR ofc without any prizes and consolations. The doctors inside told me it was perfectly normal. But wth I didn’t know about and didn’t signed up for that. LOL—

Anyways, we waited for my bp to low down until the ob sent the go signal.

This time They put a green barrier on my chest and lower stomach so i can't see how they slice up my belly.

Then the ob asked what would be the type of cut I want, bikini or normal cut, she said it doesn't have a difference in terms of the price since it's always up to the doctors to put their price tag on that, so I said, “Okay Doc, Bikini Cut!”

Then she started. They were chatting while cutting me! They’re like conyo and laughing but I don’t mind, it eases my mind and their conversation felt comfortable, they’re also chatting with me a little (para mapa-kalma ako) the anesthesiologist and my ob. And then after 20 minutes or so, she said,

“Oh, that's why he hasn't gone down on you because he's had two umbilical cord on his neck!”

2 rounds of umbilical cord on his neck?!—

When I heard that, I was like, WTF! You wanna die even before you're born? Lol Anyways. I was shocked and at the same time grateful to my ob since she didn't hesitate to decide on doing the procedure later.

The I heard him crying! Goodness gracious! It was a very tearful moment but I didn't cry. Lol he was put on my chest and unto my breast to start latching but I dunno he can't but whatevs. (We did delay cord-clamping, best decision ever)

After that the anesthesiologist came and put on the sleeping drug so that they can continue to the operation and stitched my belly back.

After 1 minute, I was very sleepy and blacked out for realzz. The moment I woke up I was in the Labor room already and the pedia checked on me and told me my baby was on the NICU and my husband was with the baby and all things doctor-ish that I can't totally remember because I was friggin groggy. Then after that I passed out again, I was then transferred to my room at about 10pm that day and I can't stand nor put my upper body up because it's so painful and the doctor advised me not to get up yet.

When the baby's there, I can’t see him kasi the cot is high so I got my phone and took a picture of him while laying on the bed. Lol.

But this momma is pasaway so she got up and tried to breastfeed the bear, hence the photo below:

Anyways. That's it!

Welcome to the cruel world with your crazy yet awesome pair of parents,

Nathan James!

—

[micvhisms]

dear mother,         i’ve found the devil again. and he’s just as smart as                                                   before.     /     self-para,    iv.

                                                         DON’T  COME  HOME.

she  isn’t  there  when  he  gets  there.    but  he  is,     which  doesn’t  set  micah’s  stomach  at  ease  at  all.    he  stands  outside  micah’s  door,   tips  of  his  mouth  curled  down  in  a  familiar  frown.    he  doesn’t  look angry,    but  he  rarely  ever  did.   PREACHER MAN,    PREACHER  MAN,    how  does  a  child  run  from  the  devil  if  you  yourself  can’t  recognize  him?    no,    hyun-ki  was  always  good  at  playing  the  part  of  the  angel.   even  when  his wife  was  dazed  and  his  son  sported  broken  bones,    he  was  the  picture  of  innocence.  micah  doesn’t  think  it  was  so  much  that  no  one  saw;    no  one  wanted  to  see.   and  he  couldn’t  blame  them,     because  if  he  had  the  choice  of  ignoring  it  all,    wouldn’t  he?

                                                            ha.    if  only.

hyun-ki  leaves  when  someone  comes  down  the  hallway.     his  hand  just  a  hair’s  width  away  from  his  terrified  son,    he  draws  back  as  if  burned.     he  gives  valeria,    their  nosy  neighbor  from  two  doors  down,    a  smile  and  watches  her  until  she  walks  into  her apartment.    it  isn’t  until  she’s  locked  inside  that  he  looks  back  to  his  son,    whose  back  is  pressed  against  the  door  of  his  apartment,    SO  CLOSE  to  safety,    but  too  far  for  it  to  make  a  difference.        ❛  you  can’t  avoid  this  forever,    micah.     eventually,    you  have  to  stop  running.  ❜      he  leaves  then,   another  look  to  his  son,     as  if  their  history  was  a  normal  one,    and  micah  was  just  being  a  stubborn  child.     he  disappears  down  the  hall  without  another  word,    and  micah    ━━

        micah  runs  into  his  apartment,    and  promptly  empties  his  stomach.

                                     YEAH,    I’M  FINE.    JUST  SAW  A  MOUSE. 

the  third  time  micah  is  forced  to  face  his  father  is  just  four  days  later,     only  an  hour  after  micah  gets  home  from  hq.    he  really does  try  to  work  out  a  way  to  help  naomi  pay  her  dad  back  without  leaving  them  broke  and  homeless,    and  he  devotes  his  time  to  trying  to  figure  it  out.

the  doorbell  rings,     and  micah....    he  already  knows.   he  knows  who  it  is,    but  he  answers  anyway,     because  IT  WON’T  STOP.    it’s  been  nearly  six  months  since  his  father  starting  calling,    and  if  that  rejection  wasn’t  clear  enough,    if  a  restraining  order  isn’t  enough  to  keep  him  away,   then  not  answering  the  door  isn’t  going  to  do  shit.

he  walks  into  the  apartment  as  if  he  paid  for  it,    glancing  around  with  distaste.    the  byeon  clan  was  never  wealthy,    but  they’d  always  lived well,    considering  they  had  no  support  but  each  other.    they  would’ve  never  lived  in  such  a  small  apartment,    especially  with  four  people  living  there.    but  micah  tries  so  hard  not  to  be  anything  like  his  dad,     and  he  likes  the  home  he’d  made  here.    he  likes  it,     and  the  sight  of  his  dad  standing  in  it  makes  him  sick.

but  nothing  feels  as  bad  as  those  eyes  falling  back  on  him.    with  no  audience  around  to  make  him  behave,     hyun-ki’s  gaze  is  sharp    &    unforgiving.     micah’s  throat  feels  dry,     and  his  heart  pounds  as  if  it  plans to  bust  out  of  his  chest,    but  he  holds  his  father’s  gaze.   he’s  not  a  kid  anymore.    he  can’t  be  afraid  to  stand  up  for  himself.     if  his  demons  are  in  front  of  him,    what  can  he  do  but  face  them?

❛  you’re  still  ignoring  my  calls.  ❜       his  frown  is  deep  and  disappointed.    it  shouldn’t  mean  shit,    but  it  makes  micah  feel  low  and  worthless.    just  the  way  it  used  to.    it’s a  look  his  father  has  mastered  over  years  of  practice,    and  the  feeling  of  it  never  quite  changes.     ❛  how  long  do  you  plan  on  acting  like  a  child,    micah?    don’t�� you  have  the  decency  to  at  least  hear  what  i  have  to  say?  ❜           

with  his  arms  crossed  over  his  chest,    micah  tries  to  emulate  the  glare  he’s  so  used  to  giving  julian.    except  julian  has  never  hurt  micah;    he’s  never  been  more  than  a  minor  annoyance.    the  two  couldn’t  be  more  different,    no  matter  how  much  micah  hates  them  both.     ❛  why  should  i?   i  did  my  time  dealing  with  you.  ❜        

❛  i  came  all  this  way ━━   ❜

❛  i  didn’t  ASK  YOU  TO   ━━    ❜     the  look  on  his  father’s  face  could  settle  the  realms  of  hell,     if  he  so  pleased.    it  isn’t  nearly  as  thunderous  as  what  micah’s  used  to,    but  the  effect  is  the  same.     despite  his  bet  efforts,    micah’s  eyes  dart  away  for  a  moment.

❛  don’t  interrupt  me,    micah.    it’s  rude.    i  raised  you  better  than  that.  ❜

                                                         you didn’t.

there’s  a  long  silence,    and  micah  suddenly  misses  the  non-stop  noise  that  usually  fills  the  apartment.     naomi,     talking  and  crying  about  absolutely  nothing,     the  twins,   screaming  and  doing  all  they  could  to  make  life  harder  for  their  mother.    even  lana,    and  all  of  her  crazy.    anything  was  better  than  this.     ❛  how’s  cristian?  ❜        hyun-ki’s  lips  twitch  into  a  small  smile,    as  if  taking  pleasure  in  the  way  micah’s  head  snaps  back  to  him.    the  words  are  casual,    low  and  languid,     even  if  the  meaning  is  anything  but.       ❛  he  did  come  here  with  you,    didn’t  he?    it’s  been  a  long  time   since  i  last  saw  him.  ❜        cristian’d   never  gone  over  micah’s  house  back  then.    it  was  always  the  other  way  around,    even  before  micah  realized  he  was  living  with  a  monster  and  a  zombie.     his  dad  hadn’t   seen  cristian  since  micah  was  about  nine and  he  was  dropping  him   off  to  spend  the  weekend  with  the  ramos’.     not  long  after  micah’s  fourteenth  birthday,    he  was  careful  to  never  even  mention  cristian  around  his  parents.    even  if  they  were  well  aware  of  where  micah  was    (    when  they  cared  enough  to  notice    )    he’d  held  onto  the  hope  that  maybe  they’d  forgotten  about  cristian.     micah  would’ve  never  forgiven  himself  if  cristian  got  hurt  because  of  him.

he  shook  his  head  slowly,    glaring  at  his  father.     ❛  don’t.    don’t  bring  him  into  this.  ❜  

the  smug  smile  fades,    and  hyun-ki  stares  down  at  his  son  in  thinly  veiled  disgust,    and  micah  already  knows  where  this  is  going.     ❛  you’ve  always  loved  him  more  than  your  own  family.    i  was  hoping  you  would  have  grown  out  of  this  by  now,    micah,    it’s  embarrassing.  ❜         it  isn’t  a  new  conversation.     but  it’s  always  been  one  thing  micah  truly  didn’t  give  a shit  about.     whether  it’s  a  knock  on  micah’s  sexuality  or  his  loyalty  to  cristian,    or  both,    it   never  changes  the  fact  that  micah's  defiant.     it  only  serves  to  piss  the  man  off  more  to  know  that  he  can’t  control  everything,   but  it's  a  small  victory  for  micah.

arms  falling  to  his  side,    micah  glances  at  the  door  behind  hyun-ki.    all  he  can  do  was  hope  naomi  doesn’t  come  home  any  time  soon.    he  looks  back  to  his  father,    anxious  to  have  this  visit  end  sooner  than  later.    ❛  what  do  you  want?  ❜  

he  doesn’t  know  why  he  asked.     he  already  knows,     even  before  hyun-ki  announces  that,    ❛  you  need  to  come  home.    micah,  ❜    he  adds  before  micah  could  say  anything,    ❛  your  mother  is  dying.  ❜        

that   ━━  micah  isn’t  expecting  that.    his  eyes  trace  his  father’s  face,   looking  for  any  sign  of  a  lie.    he  wants  so  badly  for  it  to  be  an  elaborate  ruse,    another  trick  to  get  micah  to  forgive  and  forget  again.     but  it  isn’t.    hyun-ki’s   eyes  are  as  honest  as  they’ve  ever  been.    ❛  how?  ❜    no.  not  how.    ❛  what did you do?  ❜        as  much  as  micah  despises  his  parents,    his  mother  was  never  bad  to  him.    she  was  negligent,    at  best,    but  when  she  was  there,    she  was  everything  he  needed.     warm  and  soft,    a  kiss  ghosting   across  his  forehead  as  he  fell  asleep,     a  strong  force  between  him  and  his  father.    because  as  cruel  as  the  man  is,    he’s  always  loved  her  too  much  to  hurt  her.    at  least,    he  DID.   but  it’s  been  four  years  since  micah  left;    there’s  no  reason  to  believe  he  hasn’t  started  taking  it  out  on  elodie.    his  hands  clench  into  fists,     and  he  grits  his  teeth.    ❛  WHAT DID YOU D O ?  ❜        

his  father  shakes  his  head.    ❛  she’s  sick,    micah.    she  hasn’t  taken  care  of  herself  in  years.   it’s  been  too  long.     her  body  is  shutting  down.  ❜    it  feels  like  a  bullshit  answer.    like   the  EASY  one.    it’s  better  to  blame  it  on  his  sick  wife  than  on  himself.    ❛  i  understand  if  you  have  your  problems  with  me,     micah,    but  she’s  your  mother.     surely,    you  want  to  be  there  in  her  last  days.  ❜    

no.      no.

when  micah  doesn’t  answer,     hyun-ki.... changes.    it’s  a  subtle  shift:    his  eyes  seem  colder,    calculative.    his  head  tips  to  the  side,   and  he  stares  at  micah  as  if  he’s  staring  right  through  him.      ❛  and  the  children  that  live  here?  ❜     micah’s  heart  STOPS.   of  all  of  the  things  hyun-ki  could’ve  said,     nothing  terrifies  him  as  much  as  the  idea  of  his  father  knowing  about  the  twins.    but  it  makes  sense,    doesn’t  it?    his  father  somehow  knows  where  he  lives.    god,    he  knows  where  he  works.     the  latter  can  almost  be  excused.    since  the  release  of  the  movie,    they’ve  been  popular.    it  wouldn’t  be  hard  to  find  out  where  they  work.    but  micah  has  made  sure  their  address  was  always  kept  secret,    for  this  very  reason.    for  his  own  safety,    for  naomi’s,    but  most  of  all,    for  the twins.     ava  and  noah,    who  his  father  knows  about.    his  reaction  must  be  enough   to  encourage  hyun-ki,    because  he  keeps  going,    as  if  micah  doesn’t  feel  sick.    or  maybe  because.      ❛  wouldn’t  you  want  them  to  return  home  if  it  were  their  mother?  ❜     stop.      ❛  what’s  her  name.... naomi,    right?  ❜       please.      ❛  you  aren’t  setting  a  good  example  for  them.     perhaps  i  should  talk  to  this  roommate  of  yours.    i’m  sure  she’ll  understand.  ❜

❛  no.  ❜       micah’s  voice  is  quiet,    nearly  inaudible.     if  his  father  hears  it,    he  gives  no  indication.

❛  i  can  wait  until  she  gets  home.    or  i  can  come  back  later.  ❜

❛  don’t.  ❜     quieter.

❛  you   realize  that  now,   don’t  you?    i  can  always  come  back.    as  far  as  you  run,    you  are  my  son.    and  i  can  always  find  you.  ❜     micah’s   head  drops,     and  his  shoulders  sag  as  he  stares  at  the  ground,    willing  everything  back.   the  fear,    the  hatred,    the  desire  to  hide,    the  desire  to  cry.    a  cold  hand  rests  on  his  cheek,    and  micah  knows  he  can’t  win  here.    ❛  it’s  in  the  best  interests  of  yourself,    the  children,    and  all  of  your  friends  to  stop  this  rebellious  act  and  come  home.  ❜

micah  tries  to  breathe.    he  tries  so  hard,    but  it’s  wet,    shuddering,    and  shallow.     his  lungs  are  filled  with  water,      as  if  he’s  a  dam  just  on  the  verge  of  breaking.    and  he  is.    at  least,    he  feels  like  it.     ❛  please,  ❜    he  pleads  again,    voice   shaking.    his  entire  body   is  trembling,    but  he  feels  no  tears.    slowly,    he’s  starting  to  feel  nothing. 

❛  we   can   work   the  restraining  order  out,    of  course.    my  lawyer  has  already  agreed  to  talk  to  the  judge.  ❜    the  same  lawyer  that  made  sure  hyun-ki  never  spent  a  second  in  a  jail  cell,    despite  how  many  times  he  was  accused  of  abuse.     ❛  and,    to  compensate  naomi  for  your  inconvenience,    i’ll  pay  your  half  of  the  rent  every  month  that  you’re  gone.  ❜     every  MONTH.    as  if  elodie  has  years  left.    in  all  likeliness,    she  does.     but  what’s  the  point  in  arguing?    the  use  of  naomi’s  name  is  deliberate.    it’s  a  quiet  reminder  that  i  know  about  her,    and  i  know  where  she  lives.    if  i  can  get  to  you,    what  do  you  imagine  i  can  do  to  her?    it’s  a  threat,    not  just  to  naomi  or  the  twins.    it’s  to  cristian,    and  ashley,    and  every  other  mysterybuster.   

(    there  was  once  a  reason  that  micah  kept  his  distance.    somewhere  along  the  way,    he’d  forgotten.     now,     he  remembers.    his  father  has  always  been  good  at  mind  games.     he’s  always  been  a  master  of  seeing  what  it  takes  to  get  to  his  son,    and  pushing  every  single  button  he  needs  to  in  order  to  get  his  way.    micah  stayed  away  so  that  they  could  never  be  used  against him.     inevitably,    he  failed.    )

❛  i’ll  come  back  to  pick  you  up  tonight,    micah.  ❜

❛ please...  ❜     it’s  a  last  attempt   at  saving  himself.    it  means  nothing.    they  both  know  he’s  lost,    even  before  his  dad  stepped  through  that  door.

when  hyun-ki  speaks  again,  his  voice  is  tender  and  loving.     the  way  he  genuinely  sounded,    some  many,    many   lives  ago.     ❛  your  mother  will  be  so  happy  to  hear  that  you’re  coming  home.    you  are  coming  home,    aren’t  you?  ❜     

                                          DON’T  WORRY,    I  TOOK  CARE  OF  IT.

somewhere  across  the  city,    someone  has  their  first  kiss.    the  dog  in  the  apartment  upstairs  barks,    and  a  siren  wails  as  a  fire  truck  passes  by.    the  sky  falls  dark,    and  micah.... breathes.

                                                           ❛  yes,     father.  ❜    

dear mother,        

     i’m  sorry  to  say  i  lied,    and  the  devil  has  played  me  again. 

                         it  seems  he’d  never  left  to  begin  with.

[micvhisms]

                             the  placement  of  guilt.   /    task, ii.

exhaustion  had  settled  into  micah’s  bones  like  the  chill  of  winter.    he’d  barely  made  it  into  his  apartment,    closing  &  LOCKING  the  door  behind  naomi.    he  didn’t  say  anything  to  her  as  she  went  to  her  room.    what  could  he  say?    sleep  well?    don’t  think  about  our  DEAD  INTERN  or  our  arrested  friend?   somehow,    he  doubted  she  would  find  comfort  in  the  words.    he  retreated  to  his  own  room,    the  lights  still  out  as  he  collapsed  onto  his  bed.    his  mind  raced,    filled  with  images  of  ashley,    soaked  in  blood,    isaiah,    dragged  away  in HANDCUFFS,    everyone  so  lost  and  confused.    as  if  it  wasn’t  clear  as  day.    or  maybe  micah  was  too  cynical;    maybe  he  only  saw  the  worst  in  people.

(    RIDDLE  ME  THIS:   the  difference  between  the  goddess  with  flaxen  hair  and  a  smile  painted  upon  supple  lips  &  the  sinner  with  raven  hair  and  weary  eyes,    hidden  in  fear  and  oppression?

                                 simply ━━ vision.

                        where  she  saw  the  world  in  technicolor,    he  saw  muted  hues,    blacks  and  whites,    shaded  grays.    he  saw  the  worst  because  he’d  LIVED  IT.  )

miles  away,    gina’s  death  was  declared  a murder.    it  was  the  first  night  that  micah  genuinely  didn’t  attempt  to  sleep.    the  sun  rose,    and  his  phone  rang.

                           {          log entry:        unanswered:   001.           }          

a  cup  of  coffee  sat  in  front  of  him,     the  burn  still  stinging  his  tongue.     there  was  irresponsibility  there,     someone  would  say.   in  burning  yourself  on fresh  coffee.      better  to  rip  yourself  apart  on  your  own  jagged  edges,     he  mused,     as  if  that  would  make  a difference.  weren’t  you  bound  to  B L E E D,    either  way?     his  phone  rang  again,    going  unanswered,    in  favor  of  last  night  playing  in his  mind  again.       bryce’s  lost  look,    damaris  checking  the  body,     isaiah━━━━

                          {          log entry:        unanswered:   004.           }          

when  the  buzzing  started  again,     his  patience  snapped.     for  the  first  time  since  this  all  began,     he  picked  up  the  phone.    ❛  STOP  CALLING  ME.    jesus,   i  don’t  want  to  talk  to  you,     okay?    stop.... fucking  calling.  ❜    

silence  rang  out  on  the  opposite  end  and  micah  almost  thought  he’d  done  it.    for  the  first  time  ever,    he’d  stood  up  for  himself,    and  maybe  he’d  won.    then,    quietly  from  the  other  end ━━━      ❛  uh,     hello?    um,    micah  byeon?   hi,     i’m━━  ❜    

❛  why  are  you  calling  me?  ❜     but  he  knew.   god,    he  did  this  regularly;    people  asking about  the  movie,    about  silverwood,    about  cristian.     he  knew  what a  reporter  sounded like,     even  when  they  were  confused  and  scared.

❛  oh,    um.  ❜     shuffling  on  the  other  end,    the  telltale  rustling  of  papers,    followed  by  stammering  that  had  micah’s  eyes  rolling.      ❛  last night,    um,    GINA  FLETCHER  was  murdered  at  the  party  you attended,    correct?  ❜    

micah  slipped  the  spectacles  from  his  nose,    setting  them  on  the  table.      he  pinched  the  bridge  of  his  nose,    allowing  himself  a sigh  as  he  forced  down  his  irritation.    he  couldn’t  lose  his  nerve.    he  was  the  last  person  who  could.     ❛  don’t  ask  a  question  you  already  know  the  answer  to.    get  to  the  point.  ❜    

❛  what  were  you  doing  before  her  body  was  found?  ❜    

micah....    couldn’t  answer  that.    not  HONESTLY,    anyway.   he  already  knew  that.    honesty  wouldn’t  be  his  friend  here.     but  his  lies  had  to  be  CLOSE.     ❛  i  was  in  the  party  with  everyone  else.    then,   they  announced  the  winner  of  the  costume  contest,    and  i  went  looking  for  a  bathroom.    when  i  came  back,    they’d  already  found  the  body.    not  that  i  didn’t  already  say  this  when  the  police  questioned  me  last  night.  ❜    

scribbling,     half-lies,    half-truth.     it  would  get  SKEWED  anyway.     ❛  were  you  with  anyone?  ❜    

❛  how  often  do  you  take  someone  into  the  bathroom  with  you, exactly?  ❜     the  sarcasm  was,   perhaps,    unnecessary,    but  that  WAS  a  stupid  question.     ❛  are  we  done?  ❜    

❛  not  yet.     mr.  byeon   ━━━   what  do  you  think  happened  to  gina  fletcher?  ❜    

the  hands  clenched.      ❛  i  think  she  DIED.    and  you’re  questioning  her  friend  instead  of  doing  something  useful.  ❜    

there  was  a  moment  of  silence  between  the  two.    maybe  micah  went  too  far,    taking  his  frustration  out  on  someone  who  wasn’t  asking  anything  micah  wouldn’t  be  hearing  for  weeks  to  come.    he  was  tired  just  thinking  about  it.    there  was  a  weariness  in  him,     an  unprecedented  sort  of  tiredness  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  his  eyelids.    he  was  so  tired,    and  it  hadn’t  even  been  a  day.    he  was  certain  he’d  scared  the  guy  off  for  a moment.   then,    he  spoke  again.     ❛  i  apologize  for  your  loss.     one  last  question,    then  i’ll  be  finished.

                                  did    isaiah    maxwell    do    it    ?  ❜    

it  took  everything  in  micah  not  to  hang  up  then  and  there.    what  a  stupid  question.   and  they  might’ve  expected  him  to  say  yes.     ❛  no.    of  all  the  people  there,    you  REALLY  think  isaiah’s  the  one  capable  of  murder?  ❜    

❛  you  don’t.  ❜     not  a  question;    knowing.

❛  i  think  isaiah’s  convenient.     he  makes  a pretty  scapegoat,     but  he didn’t  do shit.  ❜    

all  he  got  for  his  defense  was  another  bout  of silence.     then:     ❛  thank  you  for  your  cooperation,    mr.  byeon.    i  know  this  wasn’t  easy.    on  behalf  of  the  daily ━━━   ❜    

micah  hung  up  before  he  was  forced  to  sit  through  condolences.      not  for  the  first  time  this  month,      he  shut  his  phone  off,     setting  it  to  the  side.     he  took  a  drink  from  his  coffee,    letting  the  liquid  burn  its   path  down,     scorching  away  the  remnants  of  last  night’s   misery.

            day  one  of  not  sleeping.    

                              the  sun  rose,    and  micah’s  phone  didn’t  ring.

[micvhisms]

                                                 heart of te fiti    /   self-para, ii.

micah  has  experienced  a  lot  of  things  in  his  life.     no,    not  all  of  them  have  been  the  greatest.   some  of  them  have  left  their  scars,    physical  and  otherwise,    aching  beneath  the surface.    some  experiences  have  put  blood  in  his  eyes  and  colored  his  hands  a  deplorable  color,     turning  his  stomach  in  ways  he’d  once  thought  himself  impervious  to.    it’s  always  a  heartbreaking  thing  when  the strong  discover  they  are  anything  but.   it’s  not  so  much  his  illusion  of  strength  that’s  shattered  in  those  moments;    it’s  his  illusion  of  security,    a  word  made  up  to  comfort  the  DROWNING  folk,    and  micah  has  long  since  made  peace  with  the  water  filling  his  lungs.

                                               but  this  isn’t  about  those  moments.

                                this  moment  doesn’t  hurt.

      (     by  that  logic,    it’s  better,    even  if  the  bar  is  set  ridiculously  low.   )

he’s  not  exactly  sure  where  naomi  is.    he  knows  she’s  somewhere  in  the  apartment,   along  with  an  assortment  of  others.    (    he’s  in  the  kind  of  mood  where  he’s  lowkey  glad  they’re  here,     so  he’ll  just  call  them  UNDESIRABLES  to  their  face,    knowing  they  won’t  believe him anyway.    )     while  his  plan  for  the  day  had  originally involved  calling  ahead  to  make  sure  things  were  ready  for  their  next  haunted  sleepover  and  maybe  getting  in   a  pre-nap  before  whatever  trouble  this  day decided  to  bring.    it  hadn’t  involved  a  number  of  their  friends  busting  into  their  apartment  less  than  an  hour  after  the  twins  were  put  to  sleep,      or  said  twins  waking  up  and  being  given  to  him.      he  never minds  babysitting.     micah’s  hardly  FATHERLY,     but  he  rarely,     if  ever,    passes  up  an  opportunity  to  spend  time  with  ava  and  noah.    he  can  only  imagine  how  hard  being  a  single  parent  is,    and  it’s  his  job  to  ease  that  burden on  naomi,    if  only  a  LITTLE.

          still.      his  day  off  was  not  supposed  to  go  like  this.

the  whole  break-in  aside,     he  isn’t  quite  sure  how  he  ended  up  both  covered  in  children,    and  ON  THE  FLOOR.    he  partially  blames  it  on  noah,   who  has  him pinned,     body   spread  out  languidly  across  micah’s  chest.     it  should  be  ILLEGAL  to  look  so  comfortable  atop  of  someone  whose  body  is  so perpetually  tense,    it  would  be  hard  to  imagine  them  otherwise.     his  eyes  shift  between  the  television,    where  moana  plays  for  the  fourth  this  this  week,    and  the  toys  he  bangs  against  micah’s  sternum  with  all  his  strength.     with  one  arm  around  the  boy’s  back,     the man  keeps  his  other  arm  around  ava.      her  back   PRESSED  to  his  hip,     the  infant  is  more  or  less  supporting  her  own  weight    (    leaning  HEAVILY  towards  less    )    likely  motivated  by  her  desire  to  watch  the  movie.    while  micah  will  be  the  LAST   to  denounce  the  wonder that is  MOANA,     ava’s  fascination  is  the  reason  they’ve  watched  it  so  many  times.    she’s  not  old  enough  to  sing  along,     but  she  is  at  a  stage  where  she  can  babble  in  time  with  certain  parts  of  the  song.

micah  is  somewhat  pleased  to  report  that  she  has  the  majority  of  you’re  welcome  DOWN  PAT.

the  most  fascinating  thing  is  that  instead  of  truly  paying  attention  to  it,     she  and  noah  just  talk  to  each  other  throughout  the  movie.     and  ava  does  this  WEIRD THING  where  she  shakes  when  she  gets  excited,     her  eyes  lighting  up  like  damn  fairy lights  for  absolutely  no  reason.      noah  has  always  been  rather  calm  in  comparison,    but  he  does  it,    too,    today.     case  in  point:    when  tamatoa   appears  on  screen,    they  both S C R E A M,     bodies  vibrating  with  pure  excitement.     micah hurries  to  adjust  his  grip  on  noah  when  the  boy  rolls  over,    nearly  slipping  right  off  of  his  chest.     he’s  not  even  paying  attention  to  the  movie !

with  an  amused  huff,    micah  throws  a  glance  at  ava,     lightly  tickling  her  stomach. she  giggles,     and  he  shakes  his  head.     ❛  you’re  a  BAD  INFLUENCE, you  know  that?  ❜     with  an  almost  INDIGNANT  cry,    she   brings  the  palm  of  her  hand  down  to  his  chin,    smacking  him  with  all  of  her  SEVEN  MONTH  OLD  fury.     if  he  weren’t  so  used  to  the  twins  lashing  out  every  time  he  called  them  on  their  behavior,     he  would  be  shocked.     instead,    he  just  LAUGHS.     it’s  an  honest  sound,    loud  and  musical.     (    every bit  like  his  mother’s.    )    his  hand  presses  against  noah’s  back  to  keep  him  from  rolling  over  as  a  result  of  his  ill-timed  guffaws.    ❛  smacking  me  doesn’t  change  the fact  that  i’m  RIGHT.   ❜

attention  fully  on  him,    she  lets  out  a  string  of  unintelligible   babble,      in  a  tone  that  transcends  age  and  LANGUAGE.      from  his  comfortable  perch,    noah  lets  out  an  agreeable  hum,     always  prepared  to  fight  micah.     there’s  a  mutiny  every  time  micah  babysits,    ESPECIALLY   if  he  tries  to  feed  them  pea-flavored  food.     but,    really,     is  THAT  a  surprise?     no.    micah  would  be  pissed  at  him,    too.        so  not  the  point.

❛  don’t  yell  at  me,  ❜      micah  cuts  in,      when  it  becomes  obvious  she  doesn’t  plan  on  stopping  any  time  soon.      she  slaps  him  again,    voice  rising  as  she  tries  to  scream  over  him.     ❛  you  are  just  like  your  mother  ━━  i’m  right!  ❜    perhaps  feeling  left  out,    noah  starts  screaming  in  tandem   with  his  sister,    though  his  sounds  like  one  continuous  shriek  than  anything  else.      ❛  noah,  you  aren’t  helping!  ❜  

ava,    in  all  of  her  dramatic  glory,    arches  her  back,   falling  backwards  onto  him.    noah  follows  her  lead,      FINALLY  succeeding  in  rolling  onto  his  back,  spread  out  against  micah’s  chest,     a  loud  SIGH  passing  his  lips.    he  sounds  every  bit  a  tired  old  man,    while  ava  just  looks  like  a  drama  queen.      micah  can’t  help  himself   ━━  he  laughs  again,   the  skin  around  his  eyes  crinkling  as  he  lets  his  head  fall  back,    body  shaking  in a  rare  bout  of  undeniable  happiness.      ❛  GOD,    why  are  you  so  dramatic?  ❜       that  gets  him  another  bout  of  coos,   as  ava  tries  to  twist  her  body  around  to  face  him,    or  at  least  sit  up.     she’s  not  quite  strong  enough  to  manage  the  act,   despite  her  best  efforts.      ❛  see  what  you  do?    this  is  what  being  extra  does  to  you.     now  what  are  you  going  to  do?  ❜    another  long  noise  from  the  loud  mouth princess,     and  a  failed  attempt  at  hitting  him  again.     ❛  oh,    THAT’S  mature.    next  time  you’re  hungry,    i’m  going  to  remember  this  moment.    scratch  that,  when  you’re  seventeen,    and  need  my  help  convincing  your  mom  to  let  you  take  a  bad boy  to  prom,     i’m  going  to remember  this  moment.      when  you  need  money  to  pay  for  your  WEDDING,    i’m  going  to bring  this  up,    and  you’ll  remember  that  you  should’ve  treated  dear  old  uncle  micah  better.    YOU,    TOO,   NOAH.     ...did you  fall asleep?  ❜    he  cranes  his  neck  to  check  on  the  baby,    and  sure  enough,     he’s  fast  asleep.    ❛  unbelievable.  ❜  

                           ❛   ━━━━━ right.   NOAH’S  unbelievable.    ❜  

micah’s  eyes  track  their  way  from  the  ground  up  to  the  couches,   where  his  friends  had  SOMEHOW  all  made  themselves  comfortable  while  he  was  distracted.    he  counts  AT  LEAST  two  cameras  pointed  at  him.     he  almost  comments  when  damaris  speaks.     ❛  i  can’t  believe  MICAH  BYEON  spends  his  time  arguing with ━━  ❜  

❛  threatening,  ❜   isaiah  amends  with  a  grin.

                          ❛  ━━ BABIES.  ❜

micah’s  smile  falls,    and  he  gives  them the  coldest  look  he  can  muster,     while  holding  two  babies. ❛  don’t  you  all  have  literally  anywhere  else  to  be?  ❜

❛  and  miss such  a  SWEET MOMENT? ❜    trevor shakes  his  head.     ❛  of  course  not.    this  video  is  going  on  instagram.  ❜

                                                      ❛  it  is  N O T !  ❜

❛  whatever you  say,  ❜     naomi  mutters,     fingers  tapping  suspiciously  on  her  phone.    ❛  but  if  the  video  d o e  s  appear  online,     it  was  definitely  ashley.   ❜

                    ❛  ━━━━ I  HATE  YOU ALL.  ❜

❛  i’m  sure  you  do,  but  no  one  is  taking  you  seriously  like  that,  micah.  smile!  ❜

[micvhisms]

                                       wilting  figurines.   /   self-para, i.

there  are  claws  marks  on  the  walls.   it’s  his  first  indication  that  he’s  not going  to  like  where  this  goes.    he  doesn’t  even  like  where  it  starts,    and when  has  THAT  ever  been  a  good  thing?   he  traces  them  with  his  eyes, taking  in  every  wayward  mark,     all  too  aware  of  the  blood  painting  the rivets  of  the  door.    it’s  fresh,     even  he  can  see  that.    IT  SHOULDN’T  BE.    this  is  a  ( GHOST  TOWN. )    at  best,    the  only  people  stupid  enough  to  come  here  are  senseless  tourists,    and  well  ━━  them.    but  they’re  different,    because  they  know  this  shit  is all  fake.     sure,     some  of  them  believe  it,    but  micah  isn’t  so  naive.     ghosts?   yeah,    right.

               still.    it  then  begs  the  question:

                               WHOSE  BLOOD  IS  THAT?

for  some  reason,   this  scene  reeks  of  familiarity.   there’s  a  sort of knowing  settling  in  micah’s  stomach,    the  kind  you  get  when  you’re  watching  that  movie  that’s  been  playing  on  the  tv  every  day  for weeks  so  you  know what’s coming up.    except  you  FUCKING HATE  that  movie,     and  would  give  anything  to  never  have  to  see  it  again.    this  is  micah’s  movie,    except  he can’t  recall  where  he’s  seen  it  before.    he  doesn’t  know  the  ending,     he  just  knows  he  doesn’t  like  it.     foreboding  is  a  weight  in  his  stomach,    taunting  him  with  all  that  he should  know,     but  doesn’t.    common  sense  says  to  WALK  AWAY  FROM  THE  OMINOUSLY  BLOODY  DOOR,     but  for some  reason,    micah  doesn’t  listen.

           it’s  about  then  that  micah  figures  out  he’s  dreaming.

still  ━━  it  doesn’t  make  much  difference.     not  when  he’s  already  taking  slow,     deliberate  steps  TOWARDS  the  door,     hand  outstretched.     his  stomach  rolls  at  the feeling  of  blood  beneath  his  fingertips,     but  it’s  only  when  he  pulls  his  hand  back,     getting  a  proper  look  at  it  that  he  realizes  he  needs to LEAVE.      it’s  not  safe  here.   there  are  screams  in  the  distance, growing  louder,     louder,    louder,     DROWNING  out  the  sound  of his  own  breathing,      his  own  thoughts.

              there’s  a  GUT-WRENCHING  scream,     and  it’s  in  his  ears,     and  it hurts,  and  it’s  blair,    it’s,     ❛ DANIEL ! ❜   and  oh  god,    not  this  again.    this  same  fucking  nightmare,    this  same  heartache.    blair  screams  again,   then  it’s  damaris,     then  trevor,    and  what’s  he  doing  here?      no,    no,    no,    no,    silverwood   was  BEFORE!     it  couldn’t  touch  them,   couldn’t  touch  the  new kids,      his  new  F R  I  E N D S,     because  they  weren’t  there.   they’d   gotten lucky,      the  way  the  original  gang  hadn’t.    so  why,   why,     why in the WORLD  can  he  hear  lana  screaming for  his  help?

              ( and this:     why  won’t  he  go?                why  are  his  feet rooted to this                spot,  as  if  he  has  nowhere                else  to  be,     no  one  else  to

                                                                 save? )

it’s  a  cruel crescendo,     the  sound  of  their  screams  going  up  into  the  air.    his  hands  clamp  over  his  ears,  a  desperate  attempt  to  shut  out  the  sounds  of  hell  catching  up  to  him.    there  are  footsteps,     coming  closer  and  going  farther,      LOUD BANGS  on  the  door  of  his makeshift  shelter.     in  a moment  of  weakness,    he  clamps  his  hands over  his  ears,      squeezing  his  eyes  shut.    it’s  torture,    it  won’t  stop,     I  DON’T  WANT  TO  BE  HERE  ANYMORE!    but  when have  his  calls ever  been  answered?    if  there  is  a  higher  power,    they’re  not  interested  in him.  not  as  he  wishes  they were.     no,     micah’s   always  made  his own  miracles.     he’ll  get  out  on  his  own,     the  way  he  always  has.   he’ll  get  out;   he’ll  get  out.    he’ll  get  out,    he’ll  get  out,     he’ll  get  ━━

                                               everything  stops.

the  screaming,   the  running,    the  banging,    the terror.      they  all  stop,      as  if  commanded.     silence  stretches,   uncomfortable  even  in  the  emptiness  of  this  still  undefined  space.    the  moments  are  long  and  stilted  before  micah  finally  pulls  his  hands  from  his  ears,   shifty  eyes  prying  themselves  open.     it’s  SAFE,    he  assumes.     he  doesn’t  hear  anyone  anymore,      but  that  sick  feeling  in  his  stomach  doesn’t go away.      it’s  still THERE,    still  coiling  around  in  the  pits  of  his  stomach  like  a  smug  serpent;   it  teases  him,    i  know  something  you  don’t  know.    it’s  playful,    giving  a  song  and  dance  as  the  moments,   minutes,    hours  pass.    it’s  unknown,    all  unknown,    and  how  terribly  FRIGHTENING  that  is.    for  a  long  time,      there’s  nothing.      not  a  sound  above  his  shallow  breaths,    and  it  finally  FEELS  like  the  ghost  town  he  thought  he  was  coming  to.    except  that’s  not  right,     either.    he didn’t come here a l o n e.    and  those  losers  he  came  with  couldn’t  stop  talking.       they  don’t  have  it IN THEM TO BE SILENT  for  long  periods  of time.    it  should  never  be  this  quiet,    because  they’re  never  THIS  QUIET.

              but  they                   are.

his  fingers  curl,     bitten  down  nails  biting  into  unmarred  palms.      the  silence  becomes  a  curse,     just  as  bad  as  the screaming.        he’d  give  anything,      ANYTHING,     for  one  of  them  to  laugh  or  say  something  ridiculous  or  nonsensical.     anything,     please,    just  don’t  be  dead.

he  hears  himself  breathe,      and  there’s  no  comfort  in  it.     there’s  still  blood  on  the  door,     he  notes,     but  claw  marks  look  smaller,     like  something  a  CHILD  WOULD  LEAVE:     initials  carved  into  a tree,   immortalizing  sara  +   jimmy  for  the  rest  of  time  as a  should’ve  been,    might’ve been.    but  this isn’t  a  child’s  crush,       this  is  pure  AGONY,    the lingering  side  effects  of  an  experiment  gone  wrong.    somewhere,      far  away,    a  ROYAL  ADVISER is  trapped  in  a  tower.    he’s  worked  his  way  out  of  this  tower  a  thousand  times,    why  can’t  he  get  out  now?

                 finally ━━ FINALLY,    he  recognizes  his  tower.

                           but,    oh,    it’s  far  too  late  for  that.

BANG!       BANG!      BANG!

loud,     unrepentant  bangs  in  quick  succession  shoot  him  a  foot  into  the  air, and  he  almost  thinks  not  again.     then   he  hears  it.        ❛ open  the  DOOR,    micah.    i   know  you  can  hear  me.     open  the  DAMN  DOOR. ❜    with  another  bang   to  accompany the word “damn,”    as  if  micah  had  somehow  missed  the  fact  that this  was  non-negotiable.     HE  HADN’T.    there  are  centuries  of knowing  scribbled  in  his  bones,    an  underlined  and  emphasized  note  in  his  ledger:        YOU  ARE  NOT  SAFE  HERE.    as  if  he  didn’t  already  know.

his  body  quivers,    fear  tightening  its  cold  grip  around  his  heart  with  every  second  that  passes,    every  BANG  against  the  door.     then   ━━   then,    he  notices.    the  way  those  etches  in  the  door  reek   of  familiarity,      of  something  that  feels  coldly  like  home.     even  the  strands  and  dots  of  blood  are  familiar,    and  they  shouldn’t  be.      NAUSEOUS,    he  looks  down  to  his  hands,    and  OF  COURSE.

                     it  was  always  his  blood,    wasn’t  it?

HORRIFIED  eyes  snap  up  as  the  door  opens,     and  a  hulking  figure  of  a  man  storms  in,    all  but  possessed.     and  that’s  a  joke,    because  his  father  never  needed  any  demons  but  his  own  to  be  a  terror.       it’s  a JOKE,     because  he’s  here,     in  this  madhouse  of  bad  memories  and  ruthless  nightmares,     I  WOULD  LIKE  TO  WAKE  UP  NOW!    micah  backs  away,    head  shaking,    as  if  that’s  ever  done  anything  to  stop  it.    ❛ no.    no,   please,   not again. ❜    and  what  would  they  think  of  him  NOW,    if  they  could  hear  him  pleading  for  his life?    would  his  friends  still  see  him  as  micah,    the  dependable,     if  not  callous?     would  they  still  find  reliability  in  his  eyes,    if  they  knew  just  how  weak  he  could  be?      how  weak  this  man,    his  own  f a t h e r,    made  him,     day  after  day  after  day  after  DAY?    no.    they  would  never  see  him the  same.    and  how  STUPID,    to  be  thinking  of  that  here.      ❛ dad,    PLEASE. ❜    begging,    pleading,    fighting  for  the  chance  to  wake  up.     wake  up,     micah,    wake up.

a  hand  wraps  around  his  throat,    cutting  off  his  air  flow.     micah’s  eyes  widen,     bloody  fingers  scratching  desperately  at  hyun-ki’s  wrists,    entire  BODY  quivering  in  his  firm  grip.    those  eyes,     so  similar  to  his  own,    stare  back  without  remorse,    but  overflowing  with  malice.   his  feet  dangle  from  the  floor,    and  micah  feels  like  he’s  TEN  again,    too  short  to  stand  up  to  the  bullies  at  school.    it  hadn’t  been  like  this  back  then;     his  dad  wasn’t  LIKE  THIS  back  then.    he  was  a  good  man  before.      but  these  are  not  the  eyes  of  a good  man.    these  are  the  eyes  of  a  MONSTER,     and  micah  is  left  to  drown.     useless  fingers  twitch,    the  fight  leaving  him  with every  second  that  passes.     he  can’t DO  ANYTHING,    he  never  could.    not  when  his  father  went  into  his rages,    not  when  he  was  so  intent  on  causing  pain.      it  was  always  micah.    never  his  mother,    which  was  a  blessing,     he  supposed.      sure,     MICAH  WOULD  DIE  WITH  A  COLD  HAND  AROUND  HIS  THROAT,    but  he  would  always  love  his  mother  too  much  to  want  to  see  her  harmed.

      NAILS  dig  into  his  neck,    breaking  skin  and  drawing  blood,    hyun-ki’s  grip  tightening.     it’s  OVERKILL,    because  god  knows  he  couldn’t  breathe  anyway.     there’s  a  RINGING  in  micah’s  ears,   growing  louder,     louder,    louder,    until  it’s  right  in  his  ear,    and  it’s  too  much,     too  much ━━

                     his  eyes  snap  open.     the twins’  cries  are  a  symphony,      a  beautiful  distraction  from  the  fear   still  gripping  his  heart  as  if  it’s  some  holy  grail,      and  not  the  bitter  debris  of  a  war  once  waged  against  the  very  man  he  just  narrowly  escaped.     naomi  is  pleading,    quiet  as  she’s  ever  been,      maybe  in  an  attempt  not  to  wake  him  up.    but  he  IS  awake,    and  he’d  THANK  the  twins  for  being  fussy,   if  he  could.    

                              (    he  doesn’t.    he  can’t.   )

ava  lets  out  another  shriek,    piercing  the air  and  effectively  getting  him  out  of  bed.   he  put  his  traumas  on  a  shelf,    labeling  them  for another  day,    before  setting  his  feet  on  the  ground,    and  pushing himself  out  of  bed.     it’s  HARD.    he  stumbles,   fingers  grazing  the  unmarred  skin  of  his  throat,   sucking  in  air  that  he  isn’t  really  lacking.    it’s  in  his HEAD,     but  that’s  a very  scary  place  to  be  trapped.     he  only  allows  himself  a  second  to  wallow,     to  linger  in  this  bad  place,    before  he’s  following  the  sound  of matching  screams,  watching  as  his  tired  roommate  tries  to  calm  them  down.   ❛ i’ll take  this  one. ❜    he  doesn’t  wait  for  further  directions;     he  picks  ava  up  from  her  crib,   resting  her  head  against  his  chest.    he  bounces  her  in  his  arms,    humming  as  he  exits  the  room.    she’s  still  crying,    but  she’s  a  little  calmer,    knowing  that  she  isn’t  alone.    someone  heard her  and  came  to  help,    and  it  makes  a  WORLD  OF  DIFFERENCE.

he  grabs  a  bottle  from  the  kitchen,   making  sure  it’s  warm  enough,    before  pressing  it  to  the  infant’s  lips.     she  immediately  quiets,    one  more  displeased  noise  in  his  direction  before  she  turns  her  attention  to  the  bottle.  he  continues  to  rock  her,     a  tuneless  lullaby  vibrating  his  throat.     ava’s  old  enough  to  grab  her  own  bottle  now;     she  just   DOESN’T.     she  stares  up  at  him  as  she  feeds,      and  her  gaze  is  sharp,      as  if  she  sees  everything  he’s  worked  so  desperately  to  hide.     he  knows  that’s  ridiculous,  but  his  grip  on  the  bottle  tightens,    and  humming  is  suddenly  a  lot  harder.   he  tries.    god  knows  he  tires,    but  there’s  something  caught  in  his  THROAT,    choking  him  up.     he  doesn’t  cry.     no,    he  never  does  that.    he’s  not  a  baby;    if  he  breaks  down,    no  one  will  come  to  his  rescue.    he’s  learned  to  do  this  ON  HIS  OWN,  and  nothing  has  changed.     he’s  alone,       and  that’s  okay.     he’s  okay,    he’s  okay,    it’s  fine,    he’s  never  needed  anyone  to  make  it.

                     he’s  fine.

                                   he’s   fine.

❛ ...micah? ❜  

                                    ❛ ━━she’s fine. ❜    he  glances  at  naomi,    shaking  his  head.    he  knows  that  concerned  look  in  her  eyes  isn’t  for  ava,     but  he’s  willing  to  pretend  it  is.     ❛ i got her. ❜