MATURE RATING: Warning: This section of Ringing the Belle is a complete departure from anything I’ve written before. It deals with much more serious topics. I would definitely give this a very serious mature rating. This chapter, in particular, is quite graphic and explores extremely sensitive topics. Please proceed with caution. To my faithful readers: if you find this story too disturbing to finish, I will not be offended. It was very difficult for me to write it. And its ending is very different from the ones I usually write. However, the last book in the series will not make as much sense without this story.
Chapter 2: The Creating of a Monster – June 1998 – February 6, 2022
She was standing on the very edge of the lake. Her dark head bent. Peering down into the water. As sunlight glinted off her long, midnight tresses…
The memory had faded, but he had never forgotten it. She was the reason his life had always been so out of control. The reason the rage had filled his soul. The first time. And so many others. It had all begun with her. At least, as far as he could see…
She’d been alone when he’d first caught sight of her that day nearly twenty-five years ago. But soon enough – too soon, in fact – his appa had joined her. The innocent boy had watched his father’s lips claim her plump, red ones. His eomma had never worn lipstick, but that painted lady had. She’d stolen several kisses from his appa that day with those ruby lips of hers. While his eomma’s sweet presence had still graced the earth.
At the time, the tiny boy hadn’t understood what he was seeing. But, even then, it had struck the wrong chord in his soul. He had known that his appa’s kisses should have belonged solely to his eomma’s soft lips. Tender lips that the little boy adored. Why would his appa have sought the touch of any other?
His eomma had always given the sweetest kisses. A delicate brush of butterfly’s wings across the young boy’s cheek. Or a tender touch against his forehead as she tucked him in at night, her whispered words floating through his soul to bury themselves deeply within his heart. Way deep down to a depth even he was afraid to disturb in the coming years. Still, that dulcet tone echoed over two decades later. At the most unexpected of times. Like now.
“I love you, Eunho.”
But all too soon, that precious voice had ceased to whisper in his ear. A few weeks after he caught his appa stealing kisses from the painted lady, his precious eomma slipped the bonds of the earth to pass into eternity. And with her departure, Eunho lost his compass. And his heart.
Over the coming years, the little boy watched his appa run through women like wine. Like the wine of which he drank glass upon glass. If his appa had felt any grief over the loss of his wife, he had drowned it in alcohol and in the kisses of his painted lady. But Eunho had never seen any sorrow in his appa’s eyes.
He’d never seen any compassion there either. Only a violent sort of intensity. It had most often translated itself upon his tender skin through his appa’s belt. Occasionally, through the toe of his boot or the palm of his hand. His father had possessed more respect for the family dog than he did for either Eunho or a single one of the women he brought home. They were clearly in his life simply to bring him pleasure. Though, Eunho doubted he had ever brought his appa pleasure. Perhaps that was why the little boy suffered at his hands so often.
In the years to come, Eunho would begin to emulate his appa in these behaviors. Operating occasionally out of an intense rage. Born of a despair he didn’t even recognize had overtaken his young soul. With each passing year, he had grown to become more like the man he despised. Drinking to excess. Using girls to his advantage. And to his advantage alone.
Eunho had learned another fatal lesson from his appa. Hot anger could hide under cold ice. His appa was a silent man. A chilly one. But when his temper was sparked, his hands could become deadly weapons, his voice a sharp sword. Eunho had been lanced repeatedly as a tiny child by that piercing tongue. Until he’d learned to hide in his room. But, even then, he couldn’t always outrun his appa’s rage.
Most of the time, he found himself imprisoned by his appa’s indifference. It was preferable to his appa’s fury, though. Still, it was a cold existence. Eunho began to erect walls to keep any softer emotion from touching him. He had learned that those feelings hurt. Life was much more manageable when he remained numb. And booze helped him to deaden every finer feeling. It was easier to mistreat a woman under its influence too. No whispered echoes of a still, small voice haunted him then. And the distant image of his eomma’s beloved face was also difficult to access then.
Shortly after his eomma’s death, Appa had taken another wife, that polished woman at the lake, the one he’d kissed when he should have been kissing Eomma. But even this horrid adulterer was just a figurehead. She was soon replaced in his father’s affections by a younger, even more prettily painted, woman. His new wife became just another chain around Appa’s neck. And a womb to give him another child. This time, a girl. Heejin.
Eunho had been five years old when she was born. She had come into the world a tiny and defenseless creature who echoed his own heart back to him. She had been his earliest weakness. His only one. For a while anyway. But, as his father’s affection for her mother had palled, the woman had turned her spite against his son. And Eunho’s own heart had become hardened against her daughter. He then closed the whole world out of his tiny heart.
Until the day a frail girl named Haewon had entered his life. This tiny girl had reminded him of his beloved eomma. Some odd echo of his mother’s had bubbled up to the surface of his soul the moment of their first meeting. Perhaps Haewon’s possession of a delicate constitution – much like his eomma had owned – had made him vulnerable to that wee lass. Haewon was two years younger than his sister.
Haewon had been achingly lovely as a small child. Like the porcelain doll that sat upon a shelf in Heejin’s room. Eunho had found her fragility breathtaking. A reminder that life was short and should be lived to the fullest. Only his interpretation of that proverb was lacking.
Her appa was a rich investor who had befriended his appa. As a small child, Haewon had spent hours in his house. Playing with Heejin. Or, at least, existing around his sister. The two girls had never become very close. It seemed to Eunho that Heejin had always feared the delicate girl for some reason. Had she been afraid she would befriend her only to lose her to a premature death? They had all known that her weak heart made Haewon susceptible to such a horrid fate.
But such a fear had never stopped Eunho from befriending the tiny girl. He had always been drawn to Haewon. She seemed to exist in a class by herself. Untouched by time or trauma. Or the things that soiled other girls for him. She hung in a tentative balance between life and death. All the time. For she was susceptible to a life-threatening condition. Her doctors had early informed her parents that her heart could give out before she reached her majority. As a child, she had never qualified for the donor list. She couldn’t receive a new heart. So they had moved to Seoul the year she turned fifteen to try some controversial, new therapies.
But in the intervening years between his meeting her and her moving to Seoul, Eunho had watched Haewon grow up. He had never been attracted to her in the traditional sense. He had always seen her as his baby sister. Why he had such a soft spot for her had remained a mystery. But he did. He had a very soft spot for her. Untouched by his proclivities.
Even as he abused other girls, that one small corner of his heart watched over Haewon. Protecting her from life’s harsher realities. He had – more than once – redirected both his sister and her tiny friend when, as teenagers, they’d been headed to a party. Eunho had repeatedly steered them into safer waters. He had made sure that they always avoided the parties he attended too. He hadn’t wanted any of his friends turning their attention on Haewon and her fragile beauty.
However, concerning the remainder of life, his heart was hard. The passing years simply hardened it further. He began to believe that every girl he desired should be served up to him on a silver platter. Whether or not she wanted to be. He had pressed the point with several unwilling girls. Bullying them until they surrendered. Or plying them with roofies and alcohol. But most of the time, his wealth, influence, and good looks were all he needed to coax a girl into bed with him.
Only two girls had outright resisted him. One of his first girlfriends had. Yunyeong. She had vociferously begged him not to take her virginity. She had teased him for weeks leading up to that fateful night. Wading into deeper and deeper waters with him. Finally, the night she’d claimed she wanted him, she’d let him remove all of her clothing. Except her last layer. However, when he’d sought to take her all the way, removing that final veil, she had protested. But he had remained deaf to her cries. And to the fists that had pummeled his chest. None of the servants had paid her screams any mind.
The other woman who had challenged his will was a girl he had obsessed over for months. Years, really. He’d almost had her too. But for a fist in his face. Those knuckles – along with her own teeth – had damaged his lip before he could ever taste more than Minha’s kiss and his own blood. For he’d felt the sword of her teeth cutting through his lip before the back of his hand had bruised her cheekbone. Her boyfriend had then finished the job, splitting his lip. Completely open. His face gushing blood, Eunho had rushed out the door, headed to a clinic to have his lip sewn back together.
Every time he looked into a mirror, he was reminded of that night. Of his defeat. He would have sworn he could still taste the metallic tang of his own blood whenever he ran his tongue over that scar. Girls hadn’t looked at him quite the same since. Money still talked. So did influence. But his face no longer did as good of a job at coaxing girls into his arms. That was when Forget-Me-Pills and alcohol had come to his rescue. He’d begun to rely on them more over the past year.
But he found himself falling back on old comforts more of late. He’d lie in bed with his phone open. And his laptop too. Often watching more than one girl on more than one screen bringing pleasure to some other guy. And he wondered why he had never quite found the same level of satisfaction those guys seemed to. Despite reenacting many of their scenarios. Especially when he could find more than one willing girl.
He had been seven years old the first time he’d found his appa’s magazines. Eunho had been riveted from the first image. And had ignored the still, small voice that had told him those girls deserved better than to be ogled. His eyes had slid along every curve, into every nook and cranny, memorizing every detail.
Two years later, late one night after his appa had gone to bed, Eunho had gotten onto his computer to play a game. But he had discovered a whole new world. One that fascinated him from the first video. He’d found it more scintillating than video games. And he had begun to believe that girls and their sexy bodies were his chosen outlet for his pain. They were the key to his pursuit of pleasure.
As his exposure had progressed from simple images to full-fledged videos, he had learned specific ways that women were objects to use for his own pleasure. His satisfaction was king. Every woman should bow down to him and open herself to him. Give herself willingly to him. That was always what happened in the videos he and his appa watched. Without fail, those girls were delighted to satisfy the guy. Sometimes, more than one girl at a time. And so, Eunho’s thinking became bent in the wrong direction. His beliefs, particularly about women, became skewed by those tantalizing images.
So he began to expect such treatment in real life. The first time he slept with a girl he was twelve years old. She’d been a couple of years older than him. He’d had to pressure her a little, but he’d decided to bribe her with a dress she’d wanted. His appa had given him a spending account. She had finally given in to his pressure and the promise of that pretty garment.
Eunho had been sixteen the first time he’d forced a girl. She’d been drunk. So she had retained no memory of it. But he had. From a very early age, he had well learned how to abuse women.
But some little kernel of truth must have remained in Eunho’s heart because he never let his appa know he’d found those videos. He would wait until the house was silent in the darkness of the night before he opened his appa’s computer and sat for hours engaging with those stultifying images. And, as a teenager, he had done his best to hide his sexual activities from his father.
—
The first time he’d ever seen Yunyeong, he’d been momentarily riveted. All that long, golden hair. Her big, emerald eyes. Her curvaceous figure. She’d been absolutely gorgeous at sixteen. And so exotic. She’d stood out among the crowd of midnight eyes and raven heads. He had been instantly attracted to her.
But she’d been a quiet one. He had instinctively known that he would have to treat this one differently than his usual fare. So he had approached her softly and attempted to woo her with sweet words. And he’d given her little gifts too. He’d stolen soft kisses but not asked for more. Then, slowly, over the course of several weeks, he had led her along into deeper levels of intimacy.
He often led with the words he knew girls liked to hear. By the time he was twenty, he had learned what words moved a girl in the direction he wanted to take her. Especially an innocent. He treated those girls differently than the more experienced ones. Virgins required a softer touch. They had to be convinced to climb into a bed with him. Still, he enjoyed the challenge with which they provided him. And the variety.
“I love you” seemed to be the way under a girl’s shirt. And into her pants. It had worked too. Even with Yunyeong. Her emerald eyes had glowed every time he’d spoken those words softly into her ear. She’d happily given him her kisses. After a while, she’d let him remove her shirt so his lips could reach more of her skin. His hands had followed suit. Then her bra had joined the growing pile of her clothes on the floor. Her pants ended up there one day too.
Finally, one night a few days later, she’d planned to return to his empty house with him. To give herself to him. His excitement had been growing for weeks. He had anticipated being with this girl with more enthusiasm than he had looked forward to the others. Maybe because this one had been an investment of his time and patience. He had poured a lot of effort into wooing her.
But that night hadn’t gone as expected. Not for either of them. She had balked when he’d attempted to remove her panties. She’d backed away from him and mumbled something about changing her mind. His temper had frayed. He’d been out of patience. The girl had been driving him mad for weeks. Didn’t she know that he was never as patient with a girl as he had been with her? Didn’t she recognize what a catch he was?
She should thank him for choosing her to share his bed. He was wealthy, handsome, and popular. Any girl would be lucky to say she’d been his girlfriend.
He had come for her that night. He had made sacrifices for her. He had invested money in her and hours of time and effort. He had given up other girls to be with her. He wasn’t about to walk away unrewarded.
He’d been sure she’d change her mind. No girl had ever really resisted him before. Not when push came to shove. She was just nervous, that was all. He’d take her all the way, and she’d finally capitulate. So he had pushed her down on the bed. He hadn’t meant to rip her underwear off of her. That had been an accident. He’d just been eager. And she’d been fighting him.
But as he’d heard the fabric ripping, an odd thrill had filled him. He’d felt her trembling beneath him, and he had known he was in control. It was a feeling he’d felt so seldom in his life. He reveled in it. He could do as he liked with her. A few moments later, he took what he had come for. He was so overwhelmed by his own satisfaction in that moment that he paid her tears no heed. And his mouth caught any screams she’d released.
She had fled from him as he lay satiated on that bed. He had felt no need to seek out her company again. A different girl had come looking for him at a party the next night. He’d been greatly distracted by both her beauty and her willingness to make out with him. Her eagerness had soured Yunyeong for him. He had happily left her in the past and moved on to the next in a long line of girls who were eager for him to lavish his wealth on them. It was amazing what they would do with him when he was freely spending money on them.
A few months later, he had seen that his best friend was becoming bored with the little beauty who had been warming his bed for months. She was a bright, little thing. Eunho had been attracted to Minha from the moment he’d met her hanging on Beopdung’s arm. He had just been biding his time. He had known that Beopdung would tire of her charms after a few months. They often traded girlfriends. This was nothing new.
Eunho had been quite hopeful that she would seek him out on New Year’s Eve. He had caught Beopdung kissing a different girl early that evening in the kitchen while Minha sat in the living room watching a movie. But Eunho had made no move. He had, in fact, found a pretty girl who was only too willing to join him in one of the rooms upstairs. After their tryst, he had lain in the darkness of that room and napped. He’d been up late the night before too, and his appa had dragged him from bed early that morning to take him to a board meeting to begin his training as future heir of the company. So that night he had caught some sleep where he could.
Eunho had awoken when she’d opened the door. The hallway light had illuminated Minha’s face as she entered the room. He had still been hidden in the shadows, so he’d had the advantage. He was on her in a flash. Ecstatic that she had sought him out. He’d hauled her up against him, his mouth descending to claim her own in a passionate kiss. She’d pulled away from him and teased him about being unfaithful to her boyfriend and his best friend. He’d simply laughed at her innocence, knowing that as soon as she discovered her boyfriend’s own perfidy, she’d be back for Eunho.
Girls had seldom resisted him. He rewarded them so well when they gave him what he desired. He had the means to do so. And he loved to spend his appa’s money on them.
He had been certain Minha was no different. After all, she’d moved in with Beopdung quite quickly once he’d taken her to bed. And that conquest had taken him just a short time to accomplish. She had melted under his touch. Eunho had been sure she’d be putty in his hands too. So he had released her. Certain she would return.
Only, she hadn’t. She’d proven elusive for several years. But he’d continued to be intrigued by her. Even in her absence. He’d spun several lurid fantasies around her figure. He had searched for her for many months. Always looking for her lovely face and her even more gorgeous body at every party he attended. But years went by with no sighting of her.
He had nearly given up hope the night he’d finally run into her. Having a baby hadn’t ruined that hot body. If anything, she appeared even more desirable now. From across the room, he’d watched her until he saw his chance. She had ascended the staircase alone to enter a bedroom. A clear invitation to him to pursue her. There was sure to be a comfortable bed awaiting them in this luxurious house. So he had padded silently up those stairs and crept into that bedroom behind her.
But she had scoffed at his suggestion. Once again, she had taunted him with the excuse that she had yet another boyfriend. But Eunho wasn’t one to let a little thing like fidelity stop him. And he’d told her so. He’d made it clear that he was going to take her. He’d keep it a secret between the two of them.
But after creeping back towards the bed – another clear invitation for him to join her – and falling under his weight onto that soft mattress, she had begun to resist his advances. He had matters well in hand anyway. Despite her protests. His mouth was hot and heavy on hers while his fingers found lovely handfuls of her soft flesh. But she had shocked him by suddenly sinking her sharp teeth into his lip. Hard. He wasn’t a stranger to girls nipping at him.
But this girl had been ruthless. She had bitten him hard enough that he had tasted his own blood as a lancing pain had rocketed through the bottom portion of his face. Startled and angered, he had pulled away and brought his hand up hard. Until it had contacted her cheekbone. He’d been so enraged that she had dared to hurt him physically that he had reached out and grabbed a fistful of her dress before yanking it downward.
She was going to pay for hurting him. He would show her who was in charge. She dared to tease him in that sexy dress and then deny him! She had another think coming. He would take what she had clearly been offering him.
He had reached out towards the goods that had suddenly popped out of the gaping hole he’d created in her dress. He had thrown all concern for her out the window. Blood still oozing into his mouth, he had wanted her to feel pain as she had inflicted it upon him. So he’d grabbed another handful of her soft flesh and squeezed.
But the next thing he’d known, he was being pulled backwards by some unknown force. Another mysterious force suddenly plowed into his already hurting lip. He felt it burst, and blood seemed to gush into his mouth and down onto his shirt. Apparently, her boyfriend had discovered them and not taken kindly to his girlfriend attracting another man’s attention. He had threatened Eunho. And demanded he leave. Eunho had been only too happy to surrender to that suggestion.
At that moment in time, he had been quite concerned about his lip. He had made a beeline for the door and headed out to his car. He had known he needed stitches. He’d headed for a clinic. He’d gotten stitches, all right. Much-needed stitches. But his lip had never been the same.
However, nothing he had endured over his entire lifetime could compare to this moment right now. As he faced Haewon’s parents over her listless body. As he faced the monster he had become. And all the monsters he had come to call his friends. Despicable men who would break a woman’s body just for the fun of it. And devastate her heart as a cruel vengeance of sorts. But whom exactly had he been seeking to punish?
