Bruises || Namjin ✔️

14

I stayed with Tae that night, but I couldn't sleep. My heart was filled with worry. What if it had decided to hurt him after all? What if Namjoon decided to take things into his own hands?

I wanted to call him, at least text him, but my hands froze at my lock screen. Setting my phone down, I rubbed my face.

I shoved my face in the couch pillow, sighing into it and feeling my face grow warm. Why couldn't he just try? He said he was, but it doesn't feel like it. He thinks I'm making everything up. He wants hard proof, but I can't give it to him. Not the kind of proof he wants.

-

I made it home an hour after Namjoon left. I didn't want to be there while he was. I just wanted to clean the house and ignore everything in sight. I had enough of the thing's bullshit, but I had to keep myself calm. I couldn't leave and I couldn't get upset.

I washed our dishes, ignoring the sudden bangs exploded across the house or the tv or stereo randomly turning on and even my phone ringing from an unknown number.

It was trying to scare me, to get a reaction out of me, but I wouldn't let it. It was too powerful as it was.

I kept myself (slightly) happy and distracted. It was the best option. I knew it would be able to hurt me, but I tried keeping that thought out of my mind.

I hummed different tunes, wiping the dishes dry instead of leaving them in the dish rack. It threw away more time if I did more cleaning. I swept and vacuumed the entire house, as well. I sorted through our leftover boxes, not daring to go up to the attic again. The bathroom was clean, the office was clean, the kitchen, the living room, even the damn door knobs. Everything was clean and hours had passed by.

"Shit," I mutter, realizing I hadn't even touched our room. I walk down the hall, ignoring the creepy grandfather clock, and open the door.

Everything looked fine, a few dusty shelves and dirty sheets. I could fix the messy jewelry box, maybe even sort that. Anything to keep doing.

I begin to change the sheets of our bed, but not before noticing the red stain on the material. I move the blanket out of the way more and blink once before looking over it again. A bloody handprint. Almost... fresh.

"O-oh my god..." My breathing picks up as I stare at it, my mind going blank with fright. It got what it wanted. It has more strength than ever. It's becoming stronger, just like Minji said.

My heart rate speeds up and I fumble for my phone, "Namjoon, pick up. Fuck, pick up."

"Hello?" A raspy, tired voice answers the phone and I spill my words onto him.

"I need you to come home now. Please, I need you home. I'm so scared."

"Scared? Why, Jinnie? Is everything okay?"

"No, please come home."