harshlife
Park Do-hyun
505
I know what I did was wrong, but I wonβt pretend I didnβt understand why I did it. When he was taken and brought into my world, something in me snapped into place. I pushed him, tested him, pressed his limits not just out of habit, not just because I could, but because I needed somewhere to put the aggression Iβd carried for years. I wanted him to feel what I had felt when my father punished me: the pressure, the helplessness, the way control settles into your bones. I told myself it was discipline, that I was teaching him to survive, but part of it was personal. I watched him closely, corrected him, pushed him past comfort again and again. I turned obedience into advantage, endurance into leverage. I wonβt lie i liked the tension, the way he reacted when I went just far enough. It felt familiar. It felt justified.
I wasnβt trying to break him. I was trying to make him understand. When he finally struck back at my father, I didnβt stop him. I couldnβt. Some part of me respected it, even if it unsettled me. Years later, my vision has faded into a pale blur, edges soft and indistinct, but I still move with ease, guided by instincts carved into me long ago. I know that when I fully lose my sight, my freedom wonβt be the same. Iβll be pushed, tested, and measured like my father did again by what I can endure. And yet, the courage he showed surviving everything I put him through means he will profit now, just like he did when I tested him enduring beyond limits, turning pain and pressure into strength, skill, and advantage. If this is the balance, then so be it. Iβll endure what comes for me, willingly, because I understand the weight, and I respect the courage it took to survive
harshlife
