𝐌𝐈 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐀 | 𝙏𝙃𝙑

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ◎ 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.•°

'Edited'

Author's pov

The night wrapped the world in silence, broken only by her quivering breaths, heavy with sorrow. Within those four walls she dwelled—a hollow shell of a house, offering shelter but no solace. It was not a haven for the heart, merely a cage where love and belonging dared not linger.

Tears welled in her eyes as time crawled on, her breaths growing shallow and erratic. Her hands trembled, her heart pounded relentlessly within her chest—a rhythm she knew all too well.

This was not new. Life had forced her to master the art of survival in moments like these. It had taught her, with unkind hands, how to confront the storm within.

Calmly, she began to count—one, two... ten. Each number was a step toward reclaiming control. The sharp edge of her panic dulled, and soon her breath steadied, though her racing heart and trembling limbs betrayed the fragile calm. Tears lingered in her eyes, but she bore them alone. Who else was there to hold her?

No one. The apartment, or what some might generously call a home, was void of life and comfort. Even if there were others, their indifference would weigh heavier than solitude. She often felt like a burden—perhaps she was. Or perhaps the true burden was the silence that turned people into strangers under the same roof.

But is that fair? To erase someone's existence with nothing more than a perfunctory "good morning" and "good night"? To let the walls absorb the connections that should have thrived within them?

Yet, after every night, the sun returns, casting its light to banish the shadows. But what if her heart chose differently? What if she embraced the darkness instead, the loyal companion that never abandoned her? The darkness was hers—not an enemy to be fought, but a part of her she carried, even as the world waited for her to step into the sun.

• • •

"Aahh... what were you all doing when he ran from here?" he growled, teeth gritted, voice thick with fury as he stared down the guards and the group of soldiers meant to help him end it all—meant to help him kill Jack. But they had failed. Jack had escaped again, and with him went Taehyung's last thread of patience. 

His fists trembled, eyes burning with rage that had simmered far too long. In a single breath, clouded by frustration and betrayal, he raised his gun. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger—twice. Two of his own guards fell to the ground. The silence that followed was deafening, but his mind was screaming.

His heart was too heavy to hold logic. Jack wasn't just an enemy. He was the ghost of every sleepless night, the reason behind the blood in Taehyung's past, the face he saw every time he closed his eyes. Killing him wasn't revenge—it was necessity.

"V, stop!" Jimin's voice cut through the air, sharp but laced with concern. "We'll find him soon. You'll kill him with your bare hands."

But Taehyung didn't stop. He didn't speak. He just walked away, swallowed by the storm he carried inside. Jimin sighed and followed, knowing exactly why Taehyung had snapped—why the desperation to kill Jack bordered on obsession. Jack had taken something no one else understood, and until justice was served, peace would be a stranger.

Later, Jimin found him sitting inside the car, head bowed, hands pressed against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees like he was trying to hold himself together. His silence was louder than his rage had been.

"Tae... don't worry," Jimin said quietly, eyes softening. "We'll find him soon."

Taehyung didn't lift his head but spoke through clenched teeth. "Next time... we're not going to lose. I promise, Jimin."

And with that, the two drove away, the night folding around them—one carrying hope, the other carrying a vow.

Her pov

Next Morning

I awoke, my head heavy with the remnants of tears spilled in silence, the echoes of a sorrow I've come to know too well. It was familiar—a companion almost—this ache of nights spent unraveling into tears and the quiet surrender to sleep.

Pulling myself from the refuge of blankets, I readied for the day. A simple outfit, a jeans top wrapped around the armor of my weary soul. Hair loose, makeup faint, masking more than embellishing.

Descending the stairs, I was greeted—not by warmth—but by routine. "Good morning, Heaven," my mother said, her voice a distant bell.

"Good morning, Mama," I replied, reaching across the chasm of words that rarely find their way between us. What else could I say, when silence fills the spaces meant for laughter and connection?

At the dining table, I sat, consuming breakfast in the solemn stillness, the taste mingled with longing. "Bye, Mama. Take care," I whispered, a parting note of love that goes unanswered.

"Bye," she responded, in that cold cadence that strips the word of affection, her heart speaking a language meant only for others—for my brother, not me.

And so I walked, burdened by the weight of why? Why does she not call me by nicknames brimming with affection? Why does her voice not sing when it speaks to me? Why am I denied the sweetness of baby  of princess Words so simple, yet so rich in meaning when given freely to my brother.

Craving what seems so small—yet monumental—I journeyed to college, feeling the hollow ache of absence. The memories of her tenderness for my brother danced mockingly in my mind, and I wondered if perhaps I am invisible to her love.

The gates of the college loomed ahead, a fortress where solitude became my companion. I stepped inside, gathered my books, and carried the weight of unanswered questions into class and there, in that room, she appeared—Elisha, the tormentor, the shadow of cruelty draped in a smirk. "Look who's here," she mocked, her voice curling around me like smoke.

Ignoring her was futile. She reached for me, her hand tangling cruelly in my hair, dragging me into pain, her actions a sharp echo of the isolation I've come to endure. The wall greeted me harshly as my head met its surface, the hiss of pain escaping unbidden. Fifty pairs of eyes watched—lifeless, unmoving, complicit in silence. Not a single hand reached out to steady me and so, once again, I stood alone in this unkind world, no allies, no shelter. Just me and the echoes of their indifference.

I bore it, as always. Alone—utterly and irrevocably alone.

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~petal