내 곁에 있어줘

"What are you going to do during the break?" Seonyoung asked, pulling his arms through the straps of a backpack that probably weighed as much as he did. Jinyoung sat quietly on the ledge in the window, looking at the tiled floor.

"The same thing I always do: nothing."

Seonyoung smiled. I ignored what he said next, and what came after that. His voice passed over my ears like a television playing an unfamiliar and irrelevant show in a different room. Jinyoung glanced at me, his eyes prying a painful emotion out from my heart's depths, and quickly looked away. I wished he wouldn't have.

"...the second year our church has held it." Seonyoung finally paused in his long, uninterrupted flow of words. "Jinyoung! Let's go." I watched the silver SUV pull up too quickly to the school and slam on the brakes just as it rounded the curve closest to the front doors. The driver, a short and dour-faced woman with bright makeup, lurched forward in the car and stared at me with small, cold eyes. In that face, I saw his nose, the shape of his eyes, his high, pronounced cheekbones, and the curve of his lips. That so much resemblance existed between this harsh-looking woman and my friend was unsettling. Jinyoung looked back at me before leaving, his face already an emotionless mask.

"Jinyoung..."

His eyes softened a little, but he couldn't summon a smile. "See you soon, Emiko."

I swallowed uncomfortably, remembering the marks on his back while fingering the bruise on my wrist from that morning. He followed his brother toward the car, his body looking so slim and fragile in the cloudy afternoon. He sat in the passenger's seat with his head down and face angled away from me. I watched the car speed through the parking lot and around the corner.

My stepfather drove up soon after. As I slid into the car, he unleashed a storm of accusations and spite. I had stolen money from him. I had sneaked out of the house. I wasn't doing my chores. I had said bad things about him to my friends. I was worthless and stupid. I would never leave this city. It continued all the way home, but I had dealt with such things for years and become accustomed to dealing with it... This was different. I had been affected by something that I didn't know how to deal with.

Richard followed me into the study, into the basement, out onto the patio, and back into the living room several times. Each time I picked up something to do, he slapped it out of my hands. A book. A newspaper. My phone. My mom's laptop. Even a stack of unclipped coupons. Sensing a fruitless battle, I waited motionlessly as he yelled into my face for an hour. Only after his voice became hoarse did he give up. As he stomped back into the living room and turned on the TV, I returned to my room.

I lay on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. The pipes and wires and exposed insulation skated across like veins and arteries. Boards that crossed the ceiling looked like a picked-over corpse. I lay like that until my mom came home, thinking of Jinyoung and his pain. When she did, I heard my stepdad start an argument with her. She began cooking dinner while yelling at him, slamming cupboard doors and pots and pans together. Whatever she was making began to burn. I flitted out of my room and into the kitchen to watch my mom.

For several moments, she was quiet. She put spices into the pot two at a time. She poured in some soy sauce, and then some sesame oil. The burning smell hung in the air thickly, but the food itself smelled good. She was still dressed in her slacks and blazer from work, but her hair had been pulled back into a bun.

I cautiously waited at the door frame. "It smells delicious, Mom."

"I'm so tired of everyone's bullshit!" she yelled suddenly as if I had somehow caused her argument with Richard. "He's an asshole and you're a little bitch. You two can rot here for all I care!"

I watched her almost rip the knobs off the oven as she turned and stormed out of the kitchen. She slammed the bedroom door and reopened it moments later, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. As she tore the front door open, I scurried outside behind her.

"Mom, please don't leave me with him. Please." She slammed her car door and almost ran into a car parked across the street on her way out of the driveway. I called to the closed driver's side window as she put the car in drive and hurled her bag into the back seat. "Mom, please!"

She sped down the street, turning as the tears began to spill down my cheeks. I stayed outside until the sky darkened, afraid of what Richard would do to me if I went back in. Eventually, I had to go inside. He threw the remote at me as I hurried toward my room.

"It's your fault she left, you little shit!" he called after me.

I fell asleep, but not before hearing him mutter that no one loved me... not even my mother.