Stark; bleak.

#1 First meeting

My family has been unlucky since I was young.

My father, who beats my mother with all kinds of things in the house, and when he still can't calm down, he beats me too.

My mom, a bar girl who gets drunk when my dad goes out to gamble and brings a man home and yells at me to get out.

And I was 18 years old, having tasted all the bitterness of the world in that small 12-pyeong single room.

My mother died. My mother married my father when I was two. My father, who gave birth to me, ran away and abandoned her.

But my mother's body was always covered in scratches, big and small. She was stabbed with flower pot shards, hit with glass cups... And yet, my mother couldn't even go to the hospital because she didn't have money.

My mother was strangled to death by my father, who couldn't control his anger. It was because I didn't fold the laundry. She always told me. Even right before she died,

-You shouldn't live like me.

I volunteered to go to the bar in the alley next to where my mother worked. I loved the fact that they fed me, gave me a place to sleep, and, most importantly, that I didn't have to worry about my father coming.

But the price of happiness was harsh. With over a dozen guests coming in every day, my body and mind began to break down. Many of them were drunk and tried to hit me, reminding me of my father.

I felt like a reed swaying in the wind. I begged the pimp to let me out. It was impossible to endure this.

The pimp beat me to death as soon as I finished speaking. He said it because I hadn't come to my senses. I immediately pleaded with a different meaning: "I won't go out. Please don't beat me."

Three years later, I still had a client who wanted me, so I put on red lipstick and wore a simple dress. It suited me quite well. The woman next to me joked, "You look good in anything."

My situation, which made me crave even this kind of joke, overlapped with my dead mother. I miss you, Mom.

The madam, who said that it had been a while since a precious guest had come and that I could make some money if I asked nicely, sent me into the room with a bang.

“Come in, have a seat,” he said, holding out a chair to me as I began to ramble on with the now familiar explanation.

박지훈

-Huh? -Sit down, I came here to talk.