"Woyoungie, come on out baby, I just wanna talk..." Said a voice. A ten year old Wooyoung sat in a kitchen cabinet with a hand over his mouth and tears running down his face. "Wooyoung, I won't ask nicely again." The voice said deeper. "Times up." The voice said. He practically ripped the cabinet door open. "Found you." They said. They grabbed Wooyoung's by his neck and slammed him against the wall. "S-Stop!" Wooyoung screamed. "I fucking told you it was your last chance." They said, throwing Wooyoung onto the wooden floor. Wooyoung sobbed loudly. "Shut your mouth! Shut up!" They yelled. They started to kick Wooyoung in his stomach. "I-I'm sorry!" Wooyoung whimpered. "You should be sorry! Being a fucking faggot with no use!" They screamed again, hurting Wooyoung more and more. That night, Wooyoung was thrown in the basement, freezing cold. He shakily stood up and walked to the door and walked down the dark hall. The smell of alcohol invaded his nostrils. He walked into the living room and saw the man that made his life hell sleeping on the couch. If looks could kill, the man would be dead. Wooyoung walked to the kitchen and snatched a knife from the kitchen drawer. He walked over to the sleeping man and looked at him with utter hatred. He brought his hand that was shaking over the man's chest and brought his hand down, The man's eyes shot up as blood starting to seep through his mouth. "This is for everything." Wooyoung whispered as he stabbed mercilessly into his own father's chest. When his father was far from alive he continued stabbing. It felt, reliving when he did it, like weight lifted off his chest. Wooyoung pulled the knife out and dropped it on the floor. He smiled widely at the red liquid that covered his hands. A picture of a woman hung above the fire place. "I did it eomma, I saved us." He said while giggling.