snk

[ giving back the leg and taking his decency ]

 

Name: Park Chanyeol

Age: 23

Occupation: Civilian

Background:

 

Park Chanyeol had always been some kind of lovable puppy nobody ever kept. Given away, adopted. Adopted, given away. Given away, adopted. The cycle goes on and on. It was almost as if misfortune had her miserable arms locked around the puppy, sardonically loyal to him and him alone. Heavens know how impossible their reasons were, how far-fetched were their actions compared to their first promises - to love him and keep him as their own special special special child, to never let him starve or stave off food in the streets again, to never leave him alone in the cold, to shower him with unending hugs and kisses until he grows to be an awkward adolescent who couldn't care less for physical shows of affection, to care for him like never before. None of them came true, except for one; just one, the promise made when he was nine.

 

"I'll teach you new things. Things you'll pass down, things you'll never forget.

 

"I will change your life," whispered the man with cold hands.

 

As soon as he stepped in that house, his pathetic life changed. He used to live in the streets and stave off whatever he saw on the ground, but he always managed to smile for everyone who spared him a glance. With the man with cold hands, he had a lot to stuff in his filthy mouth, things that could be eaten and things that were supposed to be kept somewhere else. He lost his smile. All he had was a bruised body that could hardly stand up, that could barely sit down. Hell, ting hurt like .

 

"Baby, baby, don't cry, daddy loves you - you and your lovely little ," would be the crooning statements from the man with cold hands. His breathing would be hot and sticky against the boy's ear. He'd have his hands all over the places Chanyeol felt uncomfortable with, his light touch grazing the boy's skin and unfailingly sending sparks to his spine.

 

Chanyeol hated this. It was absurd and strange. But the thing he hated the most was the fact that he liked it - no, he wanted it so ing much. He hated that he started responding to the man's powerful advances, to the sloppy kisses that violated and filthied his mouth every single time.

 

The advances stopped when he was twelve. His hunger for someone's intimate touch didn't.

 

For the the next ten years, children went missing randomly. Rumor said the Survey Corps took them as bait. That the Garrison hid them to be trained as slaves. That they were taken into the inner walls, safe from the titans. Whenever such rumors were passed to Chanyeol, he simply frowned in sympathy for the children, then smiled a wide grin at the variation of said rumors. Some people had the uncanny feeling of his smile being oddly manic, happy yet uncaring. As soon as the thought crosses their mind, they forget about it. Chanyeol was a simple man who sold vegetables of his house that always had its chimney happily smoking, a productive member of the community.

 

If only they knew why the chimney was smoking. If only they saw the children bound by rope, sitting on the fire. If only they saw the way their throats were crudely cut open. If only they saw their bruised lips. If only they saw how much they cried, how horrified they were when the vegetable man pleasured himself at the sight of crimson liquid trickling down the contours of their stark body.

 

If only there were someone who could stop Chanyeol.