tw - abuse, sh, mentions of suicide and death
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jungkook practically ran down the streets, hastily trying to get home.
'not again.' he kept repeating in his head as if it would somehow change his fate.
it wouldn't, but it was worth the shot.
approaching his small house just outside of town about 5 minutes after leaving the cafe and jimin, he stood on his porch, a panic attack already rising. he took a deep breath in before slowly turning the handle to an empty downstairs.
"YOU FUCKING FAG GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!"
the color suddenly drained from the world. not again, not again.
jungkook already felt tears welling up in his eyes as he set his things down and made his way up the stairs. everything was going so good. why now? why when i just met a lovely guy?
he huried himself up the stairs, nearly tripping with the pace he was going at. his head hung low, he entered his bedroom to see his mom sitting on the middle of the bed, a small piece of paper in her hand, and biting her inner cheek like it was the last thing she'd do.
she took a deep breath before speaking, "why did my son get a C?" she said, holding a report card from 7th grade.
of course. she's drunk again.
"mom, that was from 7th-"
"i don't want to hear it from you." she said, getting up from her position to slap jungkook across the cheek.
"if only you hadn't killed your fucking dad maybe he'd do the beating." she said, sending more slaps across jungkook's face.
she then got the belt that was hiding behind her back and started hitting with all her force at his back after he'd fallen to his knees, ruthlessly demolising the skin that lie underneath his shirt.
the world seemed to go blank. the hits shooting pain down his entire form. the metal colliding with his skin, creating gashes. the bruises from the leather accumulating over the old ones. these were the moments when jungkook wished he wasn't alive. he'd silently pray for his mom to just end him here to go be with his dad.
jungkook had heard his phone buzz faintly. and for a split second, everything was calm in his mind. someone actually texted him willingly. was it jimin?
he wished he could have at least finished the thought in his head as it brought him so much joy at the thought of someone texting, but he was soon snapped back into reality with another belt swing.
"mom," he begged through tears, "i didn't kill dad! i swear it was-"
"shut the FUCK UP." she yelled into his ear, continuing to hit his beaten back. "you know damn right your the one who crashed the FUCKING CAR INTO A DITCH ON PURPOSE."
"I WAS 15 MOM. I WAS LEARNING TO DRIVE. I DIDN'T MEAN TO. I-" he stopped himself this time, breaking down into sobs at the memory of his dad. the memory of what his family used to be. kind, caring, loving. picture perfect before the crash.
the belt no longer hurt as it was the internal pain that took its place. the shame and guilt he has felt since that night. 'i should have been the one,' he has said to himself everyday since, especially on nights like these. nights like these when he finally had a friend.
a blade.
it was the only thing keeping him sane from his mom. he wants to move out, so does jin, but their mom won't let them, threatening to take her life if they leave.
