existence | jirose

6

Rosé's POV

I quietly moved like a snake slithering on the grass to catch its prey.

I already know what is going to happen. I can already see their faces. Their faces filled with anger. My hands hesitantly reached up to the doorknob as thoughts filled my mind. Please... The words whispered in my head. 

The door opened before I could even twist it.

The 2 faces filled with anger stood before me. "I told you that you were grounded!" My mother's voice screamed loudly, piercing through me. I winced when my dad pinched my ear, dragging me to the living room together with my mother who went to the kitchen instead.

Tears wanted to stream down my face but I held it in. "Honey, hold her please. I don't think she will learn if we keep making her grounded." Mother said, making me shoot my head towards her who was holding onto something. My eyes widened and I struggled to get away from my father's grip on me.

"Eomma! Please don't!" I screamed as I struggled to push my father's hand away. The object she held let off more steam as it came closer in view. My fighting to get away was vain as my father tightened the grip on me. I winced even more.

Mother hushed me by placing her finger on my lips.

"Quiet hun. Can't you see that your brother is asleep?" She whispered to me whilst looking at me looking at the object she was holding. The one that radiated the steam.

A smirk grew on her face as she looked at my father. I looked at my father's face. A chuckle, an evil chuckle escaped his lips as he nodded at mother.

-

I feel nothing.

I walked above the stairs, walking to my room as I heard the evil laughter from my parents. I went straight to my room and shut it close. My back leaned against the door as I stared at the family photo hung on the wall just opposite me. Automatically, my body sunk and soon, I sat on the ground. I hugged my knees and buried my face, letting my tears freely fall on my knees.

I looked at the red patches on my hand and cried even more.

Tears running down my face, like the water flowing through the drains rubbing salt into my open wounds.

It stings.

Not my burnt arm.

but,

the fact that my own parents did that.

Am I not enough?

hEy!