Dad. It’s all your fault that this is happening. You wanted me dead, didn’t you? Why did you trust my stepmother but not me? Did you even look at me, see me as I was? Why did you abandon Mom and me? If you abandoned me, why did you take me to that den of danger? What did I ever do to you? It’s not my fault that Hyunwoo died, you know that right? I did my best. That’s just me. I miss you. I miss you, Mother. Give me wisdom, give me strength. Take me away before I break even further. Mother!

I writhe and cry. I will not cry “mother” out loud, though. I know from experience it’s no use to cry for mother. And it’s difficult to cry because of the gag in my mouth. Get it together, Yeoul! Was my impulse to attack Sungyun really a misunderstanding of my deeper desire to run away? I felt like I had to do something, as a revenge for my whole life where bad things keep on piling on top of each other. I stop writhing and struggling and lie there on my side. The asshole is looking at the freshly printed pictures he has taken. He looks satisfied, standing tall like a large, filthy statue.

Okay, you’re gonna take pictures? Fine! Out of spite, I open my legs wide. Wider than the woman in L’Origine du monde. My labia must be fully parted, and the pink bits must be sticking out. My arms hurt behind me, but I smile with my eyes. I bring my knees together and draw them to my forehead. Do you like this pose? Does this make you hard, you fucking asshole? I can’t believe that my knowledge of nude paintings has led to this moment.

“Hmm. Good, keep going.”

I hear the sound of his Polaroid printing. But the machine in my head isn’t turning. What should I do next? Should I pose like the woman in Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe? I think my head is bleeding. Should I lie on my side like Olympia—cross my legs and look defeated? Will a black maid bring me flowers like in the painting?

The monster licks my asshole. With complete disregard for what I want, the dog licks with his nimble and wet tongue, like Nana licking her bowl. My eyes close. I feel like shitting.

“Nngh! Nngh!” I shake my head, and make a gesture asking to untie me. You fucking bastard. You fucking monster. You fucker, even the word fuck is too good for you. Answer my question. Is this what you did to Jimin? You raped her, didn’t you? Did you impregnate her? Fuck! I feel my eyes bulge out of my skull, and I dry heave.