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Minho (It Wasn't Supposed to Happen version 2)
FOREVER, 2min, taeminho
Title: Minho (It Wasn't Supposed to Happen version 2)
Author: brokenwings2min
Rating: pg-13
Pairings: 2min, minkey, HET! (taemin and key are girls...)
Genre: angst, some gore
Summary: His life was never perfect. Mistakes were a common part of it. Most weren't even his, but that doesn't mean he didn't make any.

A/N: This is actually a re-write of It Wasn't Supposed to Happen http://brokenwings2min.livejournal.com/3979.html (i still don't know how to do that cut thingy....), but DON'T BE MISTAKEN.
Besides nearing the end, it is almost COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. The reason for is because this is a re-write I did for english class. Hope you like it~

The sun is lowering behind the hills. The last glimmer of sunset is slowly dwindling to a thin sliver streaking past an abandoned factory. Small grains of rust dance away in a cool breeze. The creak of an opening door breaks the silence. Inside this forgotten steel chateau was darkness, except for a single light bulb hidden away deep in the building’s core. This bulb isn’t a source of light or heat; it is a source of fear: the way it hangs, barely swaying from side to side; the eerie dimmed light flickering at a slow and steady pace. It brought shivers to the withering body chained in the corner, eyes straining to open. Where? Cold… so cold. The body tries to move, but is rewarded with only a sharp pain shooting down his arms. Looking back, he bores holes at the cause of his restriction. Chains. How? A dense cloud of chloroform still floated overhead keeping his mind mildly fuzzy. Focus. What happened? His thoughts drift back to the past; before he was here, before he was introduced to the world of drugs, before it all started.

  “Mommy, why is Eunhae-ajusshi in your room?” He looked up at his mother with his big eyes sparkling with innocence and held his stuffed sheep tightly in his arms, afraid that the ajusshi came to take it. His mother, clad in nothing but lingerie and absorbed on fixing her chocolate hair, barely spared him a glance. He groaned and grumbled till finally, his mother turned towards him with a sickeningly sweet smile. The words that rolled off her tongue were blatant lies, but some would call them sugar-coated truths for a child’s ear.

  “Honey, Eunhae-oppa* is helping me fix the bed. It’s very squeaky.” Her eyelashes fluttered as if there was a grain of sand stuck in her eye, but he took no notice. He was only a child after all.

  “Oh! Then he’s not here to take Shamy!” His tight grip on his stuffed sheep loosened and a wide smile spread onto his face. “Why doesn’t daddy help you?” His head cocked to the side with his newfound question, and saw the slight twitch that graced his mothers face.

  “Y-your father isn’t strong enough. Anyways, he’s too busy spending his time… at work.” And without letting him get another word in edgewise, his mother swiftly walked past him with her ruby stilettos hitting hard against the floorboards. He watched her give him a tight smile and slam her bedroom door shut. He was puzzled with her behavior, but quickly forgot when the sound  of the front door slammed shut. Daddy was home. He ran downstairs with glee still clutching onto his sheep. At the bottom, he was met with the face of his father, the body of his father, but not the eyes. The eyes were sad and glazed over. They weren’t the eyes of the man he knew and loved. Fright ran through the little boy as he stood there, staring at the hollow shell that was his father.

  That hollow shell trudged slowly to the fridge, not even acknowledging the child’s presence and took out several beer bottles. The hissing of the bottle caps echoed off the walls and splatter stained the tile floor.

  “Daddy-y?” The room became silent, but was crushed all too soon when a beer bottle went flying towards the child and shattering against the wall, missing the boy by a meager foot.

  “Go. Please son. Go.” Residue splatter still dripping down the wall, the boy ran up to his room in tears. Crying silently, he fell into a restless sleep clutching his sheep for his dear life. The last he heard was the rhythmic thumping coming from the wall.
  Too far. Pain and sorrow were etched into his features. Memories of his past filtered into his head, memories he didn’t want. Scenes appeared that were so different than one another and yet so similar. Of course he finally realized what his mother and Eunhae-ajusshi were doing every night, his father too, but he never said a word. What could he do anyway? He was only a child. It continued for 2 years. His mother would come home with that rat bastard and “fix the squeaky bed” in her bedroom. That bedroom that was made to hold the sweet dreams of matrimony held nothing but dirty, sinful, lies. It disgusted him. But then came the day he had hope for, divorce. His mother was finally leaving and he couldn’t ask for anything more for his tenth birthday, but then she came back. Sixth months later she showed up at his door and tension was thick in the air.


  A gentle smile was sheepishly placed on her face. That face… had changed so much. Lips pale and crusty, hair tangled and colorless, she was a whole different person. No she wasn’t. She said it would be different, that they would be a “happy family” again, but that was the last they saw of her. She was killed in a hit-and-run accident that very day. The authorities never found who the perpetrator was, but then again, no one really looked hard enough to find out.

  Stop! I don’t… I don’t want to remember. But you do. The memories kept coming, shooting through him like bullets. The time of his first stumble into an alleyway, dark figures surrounding him with smirks plastered on, a blur of yelling, screaming, trying to fight back, only to pass out and wake up on the sidewalk, bruised to near death. He remembered it all too well. He also remembered going back every week, seeing the same distorted mouths pummel him till eventually it changed. The hits still came, but he became faster. There were no more yelling, no more bruises, instead, a group of figures with a defeated but respectful gaze. He was no longer the tall, lanky, bug-eyed nerd, but the well defined, still lanky, bug-eyed leader of a drug ring.

  He was always careful; he had to be with the type of people in his business. The only ones that were close enough to him to be called friends were Kibum and Jonghyun, or better known as Key and Chain, such a beauty. They were the type of children that were born into this kind of life. Since as long as they could remember; they were “engaged,” for lack of a better word, to each other. No one minded, especially not them. Being the sole leaders of combined drug rings had its perks. When he came in, it all shifted. They joined to become the most influential ‘provider’ in a region where drugs carried a heavy weight. It was perfect, or so they thought. A tripod may seem more stable, but when one leg falls, everything else follows it down.

  This peace lasted for four years until he turned 19 and she came, Taemin. She was… a sheep, white, fluffy, innocent, the complete opposite of his world. As clichéd as it is, opposite do attract, and there was no exception to them. Just as normal teens did, they went on dates, talked on the phone; he even bought her a little sheep necklace. Life was at its peak for him, but after all peaks, there’s the ride down. It was no secret that of the tripod, an infidelity was born. Key and Chain might have been “engaged”, but their relationship wasn’t like that. This opened many, many doors. Key was cold, calculating, and frankly rude, but she did have a flame for him. He knew, and craved it, her fiancé knew, hell, the entire drug ring knew, but no one said anything.

  So when Taemin came along, things riled up. He missed meetings, forgot promises; he was slipping, and all throughout, one person kept a watchful eye on the disastrous couple with disgust. Then he left, and everything came crashing down. The tripod crumbled and so did the entirety of their ‘nation’. Havoc broke out and slaughter became daily happenings at the crevices of their fallen empire. That person could not just stand by and watch all their hard work die. 복수는 피로 물들일 경로입니다.

  And now the tides have turned. It could have been hours, days since he had seen sunlight. His arms and legs ached; his clothes, torn with blood stained gapes were no help against the stale draft that seeped in. Wait, I’m not bleeding. Whose blood is this? Don’t pretend you don’t know.

  The loud shriek of a door, far at the other side of the room, woke him from his reverie. It was time to face to person that did this to him. He wasn’t stupid, he could piece it together. Who was devastated when he got together with Taemin? Who had the most to loose when he left the business? No doubt in his mind it was Key. I never thought she would go this far. Of course you did. This is what you yearned for.
  But when he looked up, all of his prepared speeches were lost. Disgusting. Amazing. It was Taemin, stripped down to her flesh and chained to the ground by a collar like an animal. Her porcelain skin was replaced with an endless sea of violet and crimson. Her hair, once perfect, was now disheveled and dirty, her eyes were bloodshot, but with no color; they were dead now, just like her soul. She was just laying there, lifeless, staring straight at him but not seeing him. They saw nothing; they just stared forever reliving memories –memories of brutal torture and rape, memories that no one would ever be able to mend. The innocent Taemin was no more. Inhumane. Beauty always comes with a price.

  His eyes were watering and his head once again drooped in defeat. He heard footstep coming and lifted his head to tell Key exactly what he wanted. This is sick. This is life. But when he lifted his head, it was not Key’s face he saw. No, it was Chain’s. What?
  He stared, baffled. Key was not the one, but Chain? He then spoke words with such unrelenting malice that it was an understatement to say they were dripping with acid.

  “Surprised, Minho? Expecting someone else, Key, perhaps?” Yes! He pointed to a dark corner where two men brought out a cage, Key locked inside, as battered up as Taemin but with fresh fear still laced into her features. A masterpiece. No. Not Key. Not her too.

  “What is going on here?!” he shouted at him, the grin on Chain’s face growing wider.

  “Well Minho, I decided I was sick of this twisted game you were playing with them, and I wanted to have some fun.” He started laughing uncontrollably, like he had just heard a hilarious joke. This was no joke.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was steady.

  “Oh don’t give me that bullcrap, Minho! I know what you’ve been doing; playing god with their feelings. You’re not as good of an actor as you think you are.” Confusion washed over him.  A-actor? What is he talking about, I’m not acting! Are you Minho? Are you sure?

  “You’re not making any sense, I’m not acting.” His words sounded false even in his own ears. I am not acting, I’m not. Now you are just in denial. Embrace it Minho, it won’t be long…

  “Fine, fine, I get it. You’re committed, bravo. But, let’s get down to why you’re really here.” He walks over to the two cages, peering into both.

  Taemin and Key are staring warily at him now, with a sort of fearful understanding. You understand too, Minho, right? You can’t escape it –No matter how much you deny. Then he spoke again, “Whether you admit it or not is not my problem, but what is my problem is that Key loves you,” I didn’t know. You didn’t know? Please, you knew and you craved it. “Now Taemin also loves you; I know you played with their feelings –Taemin’s and Key’s, because you’re a sick bastard. You just love doing that don’t you? How’s your mother? Still rotting in the ground because of a mysterious hit and run? You’ve gotten away with things too long without a scratch.” He could see Chains eyes darken and he felt confused… but why not guilty? Why? You know why, Minho. It was never about your mother and never about Taemin. Never. “But now I’m sick of this game. We are going to play it by my rules now, and you’re in luck; I only have one rule: Choose.

  “What?” His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Choose? Choose what? You’re kidding yourself. You understand fully. From the second you saw them in the cages, you understood.

  “You heard me, choose. Choose which one you want to die,” Pick Taemin. You did all this for a reason. You don’t need her now.And which one do you want me skin alive in front of your eyes, right here, right now.” Wait. What? No, this wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. “I’m waiting~” No, no, this is not according to plan! This wasn’t supposed to happen! Well it did happen, and there is nothing we, no, I can do about it. “I’ll give you three more seconds before I decide for you. 3.” Shoot Key, he doesn’t need to go through this!2. And Taemin does?! Sweat dripped down his scalp. “1.That’s it!

  “I want you to kill…"

  "...Key.” I knew it, there was no choice. Taemin’s stone-cold eyes start to water, and sobs slowly start to pour out. She not only felt the fear of what was to come, but also the betrayal by the man she loved. Even so, her last moments were spent tightly clutching the little sheep necklace she never took off. I’m sorry Taemin, but you were never my choice. I’m sorry.

  “You made the right choice, Minho, the right choice.” As if there was a ‘right’ choice. A gunshot rang out, leaving a ringing deep in their ears. It’s all my fault. I did this. I killed Key. But no matter how frightening the gunshot sound was, the endless hours watching Chain slowly peel patch by patch of flesh off Taemins body was far worse. The shrill sound of her screams –of pure, unadulterated fear swelled within the room, filling their ears. He watched as her beautiful body was peeled, layer by layer until there was only a mass of muscle and vein left, clinging to fragile bones, glimmering with blood and a shining little sheep, reflecting a deep velvet shine. A pile of peeled flesh lay at her body’s side, stained crimson, it broke him and the smell flooded his nostrils, making him sick to his stomach. He vomited as the tears poured down his cheeks.

  This was never supposed to happen. They were never supposed to die. I didn’t mean for this to happen! This wasn’t supposed to happen!

  But it did, and now there is nothing left but a vile memory.

  복수는 피로 물들일 경로입니다. Revenge is a path stained with blood. But then why, why wasn’t it my blood?
This version kinda gives a background as to why Minho is so messed up... although in the end, he isn't the one doing all the killing... either way, I like this version better.


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