"Power to the women who are venom."
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A rivalry between a secret anti-government organization and its deviant counterpart; will seven boys and a girl lead justice to be served?
2034 has brought upon the presidency of Allison Diggory, a woman both l...
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"Don't fucking touch her!"
Your brother screeched with a fiery malice, alertness and terror ripping through each syllable as he jumped in front of you. You sobbed, curled up on a tiny ball on the floor. Your eleven-year-old body was bruised, beaten and torn into a million pieces. Blood oozed out of a few deep scratch wounds and tears blur your vision.
The stench of beer reeked from the middle-aged man in front of you, wrinkles crumpling up into a distasteful expression of pure fury and violence.
Your mother wailed to the side, covering her mouth with her hands and tasting her own hot, salty tears. The older woman bit down, keeping her mouth shut; she could do nothing.
"Move, boy!" your father — if that's what you could even grace to call him by — shrieked, waving the broken bottle in his hand. Dark crimson blood dripped off the tip, his own hands bloodied by his grip on the object. His other hand was damaged from constant thrown punches.
"You won't touch my sister — You won't-!" Seokjin cried. He yelled out as he took a hard punch from his father, the punch making his ears ring as he falls to the ground — His father . . the same one who promised all those years ago to his wife that he would stop. That it would get better.
It didn't. For the Kim siblings, it would never get better.
You simply adored your brother. You would play with him, laugh with him, sneak off away from a drunken, passed out father on the couch and frolic around on the lawn outside. That lawn was uncut, unkempt and messy. It was neglected.
You hated seeing him this way — broken, beaten, and bruised. He didn't deserve it, none of it. But, alas, the majority of the times that your father would lash out in a drunk, angry daze, he took most of the hits.
Shaking like a leaf, you managed a poor glance to your mother. She was a beautiful woman, flowing black hair cascading from her scalp in healthy strands, bright, yet dark eyes holding a motherly glint — That disappeared a long, long time ago, though, and before you knew it, she became nothing more than an empty shell.
You blamed her for nothing. She provided for you as your father could not. You didn't see her much, but even at your young age, you knew she was working her ass off. Somehow, she managed to put the least bit of food on the table when she could.
Lee Jihyun, enslaved to a man and renamed Kim Jihyun.
"Stop, stop! Please, Appa!"
Over, and over, and over again. It was a routine. You never got used to it.
Fresh oozing wounds, ready to be made into scars. Ready to be made into memories you didn't want to keep.
You hated how a man could force so much authority over his wife and children, how he could use his brute strength and barking voice to tear down the same people he promised to protect — both physically and mentally.
