Chapter Text
I go back to that first night I heard him over and over again. The ominous softness in his voice intruded on my mind and caressed my insecurity. He gave me visions of everything I had seen for myself. All I had to do was trust him to make it real, trust him with my soul’s journey. But instead, he graced me with greater agony than I could ever imagine.
I hated everything about my life. I hated my failed dreams. I hated my shitty home with my shitty family. Above all I hated my mother and her constant hovering. I was her baby boy, and she refused to see me as anymore. Almost every inch of this house was covered with photos of me with her clutched onto me tightly.
To some degree I understood why she was like this. I’ve heard the story one too many times of my miracle birth and how I almost didn’t make it. There was a complication, causing my heart to start failing. My mother cried out, praying to any deity, begging for me to make it. Ever since she has never let me out of her sight. Terrified that some uncontrollable force might take me away again. The worst part it all was that she was right.
One night, I remember lying in my room, glaring at a photo on my wall. A boy standing in a graduation gown scowling at the camera as his mother held onto him, her smile way too large. That day was supposed to represent me claiming my independence, yet I still can't even take a photo without her in it. I can still see her face in the crowd, tears smudging her makeup and her brow furrowed worriedly. Even after all my hard work, a diploma in hand, she still wouldn’t take me seriously. She would never see me as more than the baby whose heart wouldn’t work. But I had bigger dreams than that. I had songs I wanted to sing, lyrics I wanted people to hear, words I wanted her to listen to. But she never would. And that’s when he popped into my head.
“They never take you seriously, do they?”
His voice appeared like one of my own thoughts. It was strange. A normal person would think they’ve gone mad. But something about it was comforting, like I could trust it. So I did.
No, they don’t I thought in response.
“But if you let me help you, I can make them listen to you. They’ll hear your words, and you won’t have to try to prove yourself anymore.”
It was the perfect offer. How could I possibly resist it, people hearing my words, and finally listening to my voice, to me. I could have everything I had ever dreamed of. My mother would finally see me, instead of the fragile infant she nearly lost. She would finally listen to me, learn who I am and what I have to say. I wouldn't have to feellike this all the time. I wouldn't be filled with pure rage anytime I saw her face. It was a perfect deal and all I needed to do was say yes.
Please let them hear me
Then, it all started to fall apart.
Over the next few weeks things had gotten better. Some friends of mine had started a band together and they were more than excited to hear what I had written. My mother didn’t love the idea, but she had started to accept my need for independence. However, slowly things started to not feel right. I remember seeing the patterns for the first time, purple lines slowly climbing up my arm. Most people would probably be worried about that, but they felt like something I needed to hide. The voice had stayed in my head ever so quietly, a constant reminder of my fears, “No one takes you seriously. She’ll never see you.”
It wasn’t much longer before both of our fears manifested into our realities.
I had come home from a long day out with the boys, rehearsing for the big break we were never going to get, and there she was. My mother stood there waiting for me. One hand on her hip and the other holding open a notebook. My notebook.
“Woo-Jin, what is this?” She spoke softly, but her voice was laced in anger. That notebook was filled with verses I had written. Lyrics and poems I wrote to deal with my pain. To deal with her, “‘ And to my mother, I thank you for the pain, the screeching and the smothering helped me pave the way.’ Smothering? I just want to keep my boy safe.”
That’s when I snapped, looking into her sad eyes filled me with so much rage “Mum, I’m not a child anymore. You need to stop treating me like one.”
“But I’m worried about you. Look at some of this stuff you’re writing,” She viciously flicked through the pages of my notebook, “‘ Baby boy on the wall are you gonna cry, face your fears and no more tears if you leave ‘em all behind.’ Since when did you feel like this? Woo-Jin, you know you can talk to me I’m your mother,” her voice rose, hinted with hurt as she flipped through the pages again, “‘ Where’s he gone your perfect little boy? In the streets, I’m spitting bars. I’m not your little toy.’ I don’t like these. Why didn’t you just talk to me Woo-Jin?”
“Because you never listen!” I screamed it out without even thinking and watched her recoil, “You’ve kept me so sheltered my whole life and I’ve tried to play along but I’m so tired. I know I was lucky to be born, but I’m not a fragile baby anymore and it's frustrating to be treated like one.”
That was enough to render her speechless. So, I kept going, “I just wanna live my life, and sometimes that’s without you. Is that too much for me to ask for?”
We stood there in silence for a long while before she finally spoke again, “I’m so sorry Woo-Jin.”
She reached her hand out to touch my face, but before she could the voice sounded in my head again, “No one takes you seriously. She will never listen.”
It wasn’t like the other times; it wasn’t just there like a whisper in the back of my mind. No, this time it felt like it was screaming in my ears, bringing forward every painful memory of her that made me cringe. It was insistent, telling me exactly what I was, what I always will be, a nobody whose words were not worth listening to. He had done it, his voice had pierced through, my insecurities had driven me mad.
I smacked her hand away, “No you’re not,” the look of betrayal after I said that still haunts me to this day, “You’re not sorry, and you’ll never change how you see me.”
I glared at her, my eyes cool with rage. I stepped forward slightly, reaching over to rip the notebook out of her hand. As I waved it front of her my voice came out sharp, laced delicately with rage, “And you had no right to go through my stuff.”
Turning on my heels, I reached for the door handle, ready to get away from all of this, “Woo-Jin, where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you.”
As I opened the door and left, I could hear her pleas, as she begged me to stay but I didn’t want to listen to her bullshit any longer. I wasn’t going to be her little baby anymore. I refused to be treated like I was a fragile trinket she could display on a shelf.
Now, I would give anything to have that back. I would trade my soul again if it meant I could be swaddled in her arms once more. I wish I could tell her how much I loved her. I wish I had never left the house again that night. I wish I had never let his voice in.
That night as I walked down the street, I caught my reflection in a store window. The patterns had covered my face and the sight of them made the voice incredibly loud, “They don’t take you seriously. You will never be able to prove yourself. She will never see you.”
It was excruciating, the memories of all those times she spoke for me, all the times she made decisions for me, up until her paging through that notebook, scolding me for writing my true feelings. They all just kept playing over and over, accompanied by that voice. I crouched there on the sidewalk, holding my head in my hands willing it to stop, trying to think about anything else to drown it out. At one point I felt myself scream, but I’m not sure if any sound came out. I closed my eyes just wanting the pain to stop, for the voice and the images to get out of my head. But, it never did. So, I gave in.
When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else entirely. It was dark and desolate, an empty expanse of nothingness, only a few sad looking beings wondering around. But they weren’t human, most of them were misshapen with huge horns on their head, long fangs hanging out their mouth, or large ugly wings protruding from their backs.
I looked down at my own hands to see bright blue talon like fingers, the purple patterns now marking my entire body. The voice hadn’t stopped either, but it was muffled a constant droning in the back of my mind, reminding me how worthless I was. Then for the first time I heard it outside of my mind.
“Welcome to the demon world Woo-Jin.”
Behind me was a large smouldering fire, the pink and purple flames whispering to me. They were as ominous and threating as the voice that plagued my mind. Gwi-ma.
For far too long I trapsed around the desolate fields of demons the constant voice of Gwi-ma playing on loop in my head. It didn’t matter if anyone were to listen to me. The pain in my mind was far too painful for me to think of anything meaningful to say. I was an empty shell, my mother's precious child had been broken and twisting far beyond what any of her praying could heal. My desire to be heard made me into this. So I would say nothing.
That was until an old demon approached me with a strange proposition. An opportunity to reunite with some close friends and rekindle some dying dreams.