MONEY TREES - yeonbin ff

eight

Like any other normal night, I couldn't sleep. Ever since I was young it's become a nightly routine of staying up for hours on end, the only good sleep i'd get nowadays is when i'm at Soobin's house.

Just thinking of his name made my body warm as I picked up my paint brush and carefully painted a small part of my wall. Whenever I can't sleep I always sketched or painted, which is why you see me here now coloring my already almost filled walls with more art.

It's honestly a great stress reliever, the way my brush would create beautiful strokes and the way the colors would pop when day would take over, it's like all of the terrible thoughts in my head are blown away once I grab a brush.

After a couple of minutes I put my finishing touches on the piece of work and yawned, taking my phone out to see what time it was.

4:03 AM, September 13th, It read,

'It's my birthday', I sighed a sigh I didn't even know I had in me at that moment, blinking the many thoughts that were in my tired mind away the best I could.

My birthday's were never special, even when my dad was in the house we never did anything great it was just a normal day, though my chest would always have that pang of unnecessary disappointment. But that feeling would always subside when i'd get shot a "Happy Birthday" text from Sky and Taehyun or when I'd go over to the redheads house and be immediately met with sweet smiles and a cupcake that had way too many sprinkles.

I sat on the floor of my room for sometime just staring at the wall, slightly reminiscing over those others would deem small memories. I can't help but feel grateful at the fact that I had such loving friends, that were more like family than anything.

Even so it feels like complete shit when your parents never really cared. It's just how life here goes I guess.

The sound of a loud 'Bang' took me out of my thoughts immediately, I turned my head to my closed door and realized it's coming from the kitchen. 'What the hell is she doing now?' I questioned in my head, already knowing my mother was up to something.

And as I walked out to said kitchen I was right, being met with my drunk mom banging her bottle on the wooden table, incoherent curses coming out of her mouth as she did so. I couldnt help but roll my eyes at this sight every time.

I'm guessing she could hear me walking out, turning her head sluggishly to look at me, her eyes the same diluted foggy brown met with my tired ones. "Well look at you," She slurred out with a strained voice as she looked at me up and down, the growing feeling of anxiousness hitting me.

I wasn't wearing much just my dads old oversized sweatshirt that reeked of cigarette smoke with worn out holes and tight black shorts that barely reached my mid thigh. You would think I was wearing nothing under the sweatshirt if the shorts were any shorter.

And even in the mildly lit room you could still see the many bruises that covered my legs, neck, and face. Without saying anything in response, I walked to the cupboard and grabbed the off brand box of Cheerios, attempting to make my way back into my roo-

"When you get home you're cleaning this house," I heard my mom say from her seat making me quickly turn around, we made the same eye contact as before though my eyes were now filled with this heavy feeling.

It's not like I hadn't heard that from her before but today it hit me, a little differently.

It was silent for sometime before I got the courage, "Do you even know what day it is?" I shakily said to her, knowing the outcome of this could go in so many ways. "What? It's Thursday," She said absentmindedly taking another chug from the bottle that was now barely filled with alcohol. I couldn't help but feel that same heavy feeling as I looked at her.