17 BORN OF ROTTEN SOUL

17 BORN OF ROTTEN SOUL

I once dreamed of having a perfect family—a perfect family that I had once experienced. A family that fate refused to give me entirely for the rest of my life.

My once LOVING MOTHER became my ABUSIVE MOTHER. My father, who always stayed by our side, became a LAB RAT who only let us see him once a week.

How did it happen?

"I don’t even know how it came to be like this."

Even my friends changed when they visited our house. Their first visit caused them to treat me differently. Slowly, their views shifted. My once true friends became tools to stab me in the back—something that was never in their nature.

I was too wounded at that time to notice that something was wrong—something running through their minds, controlling them. I thought it was just a change of heart, causing me to lose my trust in them. But in the end, I was the one who lost them. I let my feelings consume me. I let them be swallowed by the hatred that caused turmoil in their lives—and mine.

They went missing.

My jealousy became the knife that slit my throat. I once loved a guy, but he loved my best friend. There was no attachment between us, yet I felt betrayed. Without realizing it, I became dull and empty. And at that same time, I was also losing my loving mother.

She began starving me. She saw me as nothing more than a dog. She treated me as her punching bag while my father was far away from us. She became a completely different person from the one I once knew. And blindly, over time, I became one too—consumed by dark desires.

I hate life.

How I wish everything would end in despair.

I became an empty shell, lost in despair.

Then, that unfortunate day came. My father returned. He never spoke—he simply signaled for me to follow him.

He led me to his lab. However, as I stepped forward into the front yard, a rotten smell seeped into my nose, making my stomach churn.

"Where is this smell coming from?" I asked my dad. But he only smiled—briefly, eerily—before pulling the keys from his pocket and unlocking the door.

"I haven’t seen Mom at home, Dad… Did she go somewhere?"

Silence.

The absence of an answer made my gut tighten with unease. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

Then, slowly, he turned to face me. That once warm and familiar smile—the smile I had always loved—had twisted into something unrecognizable. A grin too wide, too unnatural, stretching across his face like a mask.

His eyes, dark and sunken, gleamed with something sinister. A cold shiver crawled up my spine as his gaze locked onto mine, unblinking.

"Come inside," he finally whispered, his voice carrying an edge that sent ice through my veins.

I didn’t ask. I could sense my muscles tensing up. But something pushed me to enter the lab. And darkness greeted me along with the strong rotten smell I smelled earlier.

"Are there some dead rats here, Dad? Did you call me to clean them up?" I covered my nose. The smell was so strong that I felt like puking.

He didn’t answer. I only heard his footsteps moving to my right. It was too dark because all the curtains were closed. But that didn’t seem to bother Dad—he moved as if he had grown accustomed to the darkness.

Before the light turned on, the door shut automatically, making panic rise inside me. Something was definitely wrong.

Then, for a moment, a bright light engulfed me before it softened.

"Open your eyes, sweetie."

I did as he said, slowly blinking them open. At first, my mind struggled to process what I was seeing.

Blood.

There was blood on the floor—plenty of it. A sickening mixture of fresh and dried stains smeared across the surface.

I covered my mouth as a gasp escaped. My eyes blinked in disbelief, my breath hitching. Tears welled up but refused to fall, trapped at the edge of my lids.

This isn’t human blood… right?

The question slipped from my lips in a shaky whisper.

Dad heard it.

"I forgot to clean this place. I'm sorry, sweetie. I was just too excited—I wanted you to see this first."

"D-Dad… w-what happened here? Why is there so much blood?" My voice trembled, breaking apart with every word. Though he didn’t say it outright, my intuition screamed the answer at me.

"Well… your mom was a little too stubborn earlier. She caused this."

"D-Did you hurt her?"

He didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on me, as if searching for the right answer—one that would satisfy me.

"I didn’t."

“BUT WHERE IS SHE?!” I yelled.

Dad wouldn’t hurt Mom.

I wanted to believe that.

Dad loved Mom—so much that he was always willing to sacrifice his own needs just to satisfy and cherish her.

But I couldn’t bring myself to believe that.

He sighed. Then, a noise came from up ahead, behind the steel lab table.

"It seems like she's awake."

"Who's awake?"

"Your mom. She’ll be excited to see you."

I didn't wait for another word—I ran toward the sound.

But the fresh blood beneath me was slick, and before I could reach her, my knees gave out, sending me crashing to the floor.

I hadn’t even gotten close yet, but I could already hear Mom’s mix of weak moans and thirst-filled groans.

I tried to stand, but the slick floor made it impossible. So, I crawled my way closer—toward her, behind the table.

And then, I saw it.

A grotesque sight.

She was sitting there, slumped against the wall, drenched in blood. Blood that didn’t seem to be her own.

“Mom?” I called her.

She gritted her teeth as she lifted her head in my direction. Blood dripped from her mouth, seeping through the tight gap of her lips, and her pupils were dilated. Her cheeks were streaked with blood.

She tried to lunge toward me, desperate to crawl forward, but the chains around her wrists and ankles yanked her back, stopping her just inches away. She stretched out her arms, trying to reach me, but the restraints held her in place.

I froze.

What’s happening?

“Darn, she became violent towards you while I was gone, and I don’t like it.” Dad stood at my side and then slapped my mom hard that caused her to throw herself at the wall.

“What did you do to her!” I screamed.

"She's just being punished."

Dad reached out to help me stand, but I slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me! Dad wouldn’t hurt Mom! Who the hell are you? What did you do to her?"

The hard slap he had given Mom didn’t even seem to faze her. She just sat there, staring at me with an indescribable expression.

"I'm your dad. The only one who truly loves you," he said, his voice disturbingly calm. "I even punished your friends."

My forehead creased. My friends had been missing for a week now.

"My friends? What do you mean?"

I stared at the dried blood on the floor.

Did he cause this?

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THEM?!" I screamed.

A low groan from Mom stole my attention. When I turned to her, the indescribable look in her eyes made one thing clear—they had become victims of my father’s sudden change.

My father, who now stood there, watching with that eerie, unwavering smile.

He didn’t flinch as Mom let out another moan, her breath raspy, her teeth clamping together in unnatural, hungry chomps.