Bruises || Namjin ✔️

16

A few days had passed by, tension hard and clear between us. He tried playing it off, acting like nothing had happened. Like everything was normal.

I hadn't spoken to him all that much. Everything was all fucked up. I couldn't stand it, but I wasn't going to say anything until he apologized. Or until I was dead.

I had such mixed feelings. My heart ached, my head spun, and my hands trembled. I acted like it was nothing, though. There wasn't anything more I could do; that's what I thought. I was tired. I was so tired.

I cough into my arm, my throat sore and stinging today. Maybe I was coming down with something, I don't know. It ached, but I was too upset to worry about it.

I collect two plates, filling them with dinner, and set them down at the dining table. He'd be home any minute. Sitting in my chair, I drum my fingers on the wood. Other than that, the rest of the house was silent. My other arm was folded, holding my head up.

Minutes pass by and the front door finally opens, revealing my husband. He sends a weak smile to me before going to our room to change.

He comes back wearing a sweater. He kisses my cheek, gazing into my eyes before leaning back and squinting down at me.

"Seokjin... who touched you?"

I frown at him, "um... no one? What do you mean?"

"Why are there bruises on your neck?" He asks, making me look at him with fear in my eyes.

I raise my hand to my throat and stand up, rushing to find a mirror. I cry out when I finally see the large, hand-shaped bruise that had wrapped itself around my neck. It was a deep purple, perfectly etched into my skin.

Was this here since this morning?

"N-no, what? No, oh god, no," I sob into my sleeve, falling against the wall.

"Babe, what's going on?" Joonie touches my arm and I flinch, cowering in on myself.

"I told you, Namjoon!" I shout, "there's- there's something in this house. I can't stay here. I can't," I speak, raising my head to look up at him.

He has questions in his eyes, but there's more sympathy than anything. He comes forward and brings me into his arms, rubbing my back as to comfort me.

But it doesn't comfort me. It gives me anxiety because he hasn't said anything. He never believes me. Why would it be different this time?

"Don't you dare not believe me. Please. Please, believe me," I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I-I do. I do believe you. I just don't know what you want me to do."

"I want to leave. We can't stay here anymore. Please, Namjoon, I want to leave."

"Okay," he breathes out, "okay. We'll leave."