The Dark Side Of The Spotlight/ The 8th BTS Member

The Bruised Puppy

A/n: Grossmutter (Oma) is Grandmother in German and Grossvater (Opa) is Grandfather. For this chapter German is spoken unless said otherwise.

This is set in Germany when Eunji is young.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sit on the floor unwrapping my bruised knuckles. Yellow and purple covers most of my knuckles from both day-old bruises and fresh ones. Screaming from the battle cages echo through the rundown building and the smell of sweat and blood cling to the walls. The place where desperate people are treated like fighting dogs. We fight and are given a few moments to lick our wounds, then thrown back out. I've done this since I was ten, and even then I was better than many of the other children. When I was twelve I was already fighting sixteen year-olds, now I battle against full adults. Of course, I lost my first few fights so they dragged me away and beat me until I passed out. After that I never lost a fight.

"Farina!" A deep voice bellows, calling my name to fight. Farina is my German name. I chose it so I didn't stick out more than I already did. Quickly, I rewrap my hands and jump up. The other fighter is already in the cage when I reach it. A large man stands at the entrance waiting for me, his arms cross over his chest in a serious manner- just like always. Once I step through, the chained gate slams and rattles the cage behind me. My last battle was with a woman who fell quite easily but I don't think he'll be as easy. A tall, well-built man, stands in front of me and he doesn't look like he wants to lose.

"1...2...3...Kampf!" And the fight begins...

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

I stand in the mirror staring at my fresh black eye. There is pain in my right side. I lift up my shirt to see scratches and bruises stretching along my side. Now that my grandfather is gone there isn't enough income to take care of my grandmother and me. I have to find a better job, but there isn't anyone who is willing to pay a fifteen-year-old, a family man's paycheck. And if I don't get out of these fights then I'm sure eventually I'll get seriously hurt or even killed. I need to save money now for when Oma needs it for medical bills. I get sucked into all of our problems I barely hear Oma calling me for dinner.

I quickly lower my shirt and rush out of my room. The ceiling is low in our little house so I have to duck my head coming through the doorway. She's already sitting and waiting for me. As a good granddaughter, I should have helped her cook and set the table but I had only gotten home a few moments ago. The table is only a short coffee table. We had to sell our old table and chairs, along with some other things, when I got sick with pneumonia and needed medical help.

Half of the dishes are Korean and the other is German. Kartoffelkloesse, Knipp, Kimchi, Chamchijeon, and Rice don't seem like they would go together and they probably won't but it's the end of the week, and all we have right now. I sit on the floor across from her and we silently begin eating.

After a few moments of silence, she asks, "Did you put ice on your eye?" She says it without looking up from her food. We usually speak Korean in private so that I stay fluent but lately we've been talking in German.

"Yes Oma," I reply. No words are shared after that. To fit in I used to call my grandparents Oma and Opa like the other children would call theirs but now it's natural and halmoni and haraboji seem foreign. 

Oma used to be talkative and bright before Opa passed but now we have little to discuss. Two years. For two years we've been like this, barely making it and spending every penny of every paycheck.  Everything that was Opa's is still here. His little wood projects lie around the house. Nothing of his has been touched, you could actually think he might come through the front door any moment.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊