Chapter 10: Teach Yo Man How To Squable
Goh's words cut through the air with a venom that stung more than the physical blows exchanged. "I thought you were different, but for you to have any sense of feeling for those monsters... you're just like the rest of them." His accusation hung between them, bitter and condemning.
Fueled by rage and a desperate need to assert his changed identity, Franklin grabbed Goh by the hair and delivered a forceful headbutt to his nose. The impact caused a sickening crunch as Goh's grip loosened. The old man staggered back, hands flying to his bleeding nose.
"I've changed. I'm not like the others," Franklin asserted, panting from the exertion and the emotional turmoil that racked his body.
Goh, blood trickling between his fingers, laughed scornfully, shaking his head. "And yet you still think you're better than us," he taunted, his voice dripping with skepticism.
As Franklin aimed a kick at Goh's stomach, the old man reacted with surprising agility, catching Franklin's leg. With a swift motion, he lifted Franklin and slammed him onto the table, the wood groaning under the sudden weight.
"You know I never cared about the killing. It's war. Murder was no longer a crime that we held a grudge against," Goh explained, his voice cold and distant. "But each time I saw the massacres, you monsters had smiles on your vile faces; there was a sense of pride in your evil deeds. It was as if they enjoyed killing my precious wife."
In a desperate move, Franklin grabbed a plate and hurled it at Goh's head. The plate shattered upon impact, sending shards flying as blood began to seep from a cut on Goh's forehead.
"My china! That was a very generous offertory donation that was imported from—" Bach exclaimed, his voice a mixture of distress and irritation over the destruction of church property.
Sumi, witnessing the escalating violence and Bach's concern over the material loss, grasped the blind priest's hand, her eyes wide with urgency as she silently pleaded for him to understand the gravity of the situation rather than the loss of china.
Unaware of her silent communication, Bach continued to express his dismay and walked over to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, his attention divided between his concern for his belongings and the chaos unfolding around him.
Franklin, his emotions raw and voice strained, insisted, "You're wrong! I only did what I had to." His hand clutched the photo of his wife tucked in his breast pocket, a vivid flashback of the burning city flashing through his mind, reminding him of the horrors he had witnessed and participated in.
In a fit of rage, Goh grabbed Franklin and threw him onto the table with such force that it snapped in half. The impact caused a wooden splinter to tear through the fabric of Franklin's pocket, nearly reaching the cherished photo within. Groaning from the pain, Franklin scrambled to retaliate, his hand closing around another plate.
The ceramic noise caught Bach's attention. "Oh no you don't," the blind priest interjected, trying to navigate towards the sound in an attempt to stop the escalating violence.
But as Franklin reeled back to throw the plate, Goh made a calculated move to stop him by stomping down, aiming for what he thought would be Franklin's stomach. Instead, his foot connected disastrously with Bach's throat. The priest crumpled, coughing violently from the unexpected and brutal hit.
The violence abruptly halted as both Franklin and Goh realized the severity of what had just happened. They stood frozen, their anger momentarily forgotten as they watched Bach struggle to breathe. Sumi rushed to the priest's side, her hands gently supporting him as he knelt over.
Through a hoarse and strained voice, Bach managed to address the chaos, "Are you finished destroying my holy dining area?" His tone was tinged with both reprimand and disbelief at the sacrilege that had unfolded.
Franklin and Goh exchanged a tense glare, both men realizing the gravity of their actions. Sumi shook her head in dismay, while Bach, still unaware of the visual cues, awkwardly waited for some response.
Goh, breaking the silence, walked over to the stove and placed his tea kettle on it, trying to return to some semblance of normalcy. "I just wanted to relax and drink some tea," he said, as if such mundane desires could erase the violence.
Franklin, incredulous and still fueled by a mixture of anger and disbelief, countered sharply, "How could you say that when there are hundreds of men drinking your poison just a couple of kilometers away?"
As Goh quietly wiped the blood from his nose and forehead, the tension in the room simmered. He remained silent, his focus on the ritual of brewing his tea, creating an eerie calm in contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. Franklin, unable to contain his frustration, paced back and forth. His foot accidentally crushed another plate underfoot, eliciting a sharp gasp from Bach.
"Wow. Unbelievable. How can you care about broken plates in the midst of a murderer? Aren't you supposed to tell this guy he's going to hell for the sin he just committed?" Franklin's voice was sharp, his anger and disbelief directed not just at Goh but now at Bach for his apparent concern over material things.
Bach responded with a calm that seemed out of place in the heated atmosphere. "I am not called to condemn. I am only here to listen to your transgressions, if you wish to confess." His voice held a soothing quality, an offer of peace amid the storm of accusations and guilt.
"That's right Franklin. Do you wish to confess your sins? Am I the only murderer here?" Goh interjected, his question hanging heavily in the air, challenging Franklin with a mirror to his own past.
Franklin stopped pacing, struck by the words. He stood still, the room moving around him—Sumi and Bach quietly cleaning up, Goh focusing on his tea as the kettle whistled sharply, cutting through the tense silence. He was left motionless, contemplating the weight of his own actions.
Goh finished brewing the tea and poured it into three cups, deliberately excluding Franklin. He handed one to everyone but him, a symbolic gesture that did not go unnoticed.
"Do you know why I think of myself better than you?" Franklin finally broke the silence, addressing Goh with a pointed question. Goh looked at him, a single eyebrow raised in query.
"We may both be murderers, but I don't hurt the ones I love; I've only done everything I could to protect them," Franklin continued, his voice firm, trying to distinguish his actions from Goh's, to separate his sins from what he perceived as more heinous acts.
Goh simply shook his head and sipped his tea, his expression unreadable, the gesture dismissive.
"You abuse your daughter. You force her to be mute and you hit her." Franklin's accusation was direct, his voice carrying the weight of his convictions. He turned towards Sumi, whose eyes reflected a profound sadness. Her expression mirrored the look of betrayal that had once crossed Franklin's face at the campfire—only hers was tinged with a sense of brokenness, contrasting with the vengeful fury Franklin had displayed.
The tension in the room escalated as Goh, visibly furious, started to defend himself. "I do not—"
Sumi interrupted, her voice small but clear, "That's not true... Father does not hurt me." It was a rare moment, her voice breaking the long-imposed silence, causing a visible reaction in Goh. He winced, pain and sorrow momentarily overtaking his features, a stark contrast to the aggression just moments before.
Franklin, however, remained skeptical. "But I saw your bruises..." he insisted, trying to reconcile the evidence of harm with Sumi's defense.
Sumi responded by shaking her head and rolling back her sleeves, revealing the bruises that marred her arms. "I got hurt in the city during the bombing. We are victims of war, these injuries are common," she explained, her voice steady, trying to dispel Franklin's suspicions.
Goh, still backing away, seemed deeply disturbed by hearing Sumi speak, as if her voice stirred memories or feelings he struggled to contain.
"Okay, then... Why did you lie about Sumi being mute?" Franklin pressed, seeking clarity amidst the conflicting signals.
Goh's response was heavy with emotion. "I did not lie. She was mute. A couple of years after my wife passed, she stopped speaking. It's been years since I've heard her voice..." His voice trailed off, lost in the painful memories that hearing his daughter's voice had resurfaced. He looked broken, his gaze distant, as if seeing past the walls of the church to a time long gone.
Franklin turned to Sumi, seeking answers directly from her. "Why are you scared to speak? You told me back at the forest—"
Sumi interrupted, her confession quick and fraught with tension. "Yes. I did. I said he doesn't like it when I speak—"
"That's not true, sweetheart..." Goh interjected quickly, his tone soft but the strain evident. His face, however, betrayed the complexity of his emotions, the subtle expressions revealing more than his words could hide.