JUNGKOOK
Terror. Bloodshed. Abuse. Torture.
These were only a few of the things that Jungkook's wife had gone through.
Jungkook stood on his balcony, the cold and body numbing air encasing his injured body. With every breath he took, way looked like a frozen cloud appeared from his mouth, softly dispersing into the air.
He looked out into the distance and watched as his home lay tattered. Debris, discarded weapons and even a few bodies, injured and dead, lay on his doorstep, as if it was a sign.
A bad omen.
And an omen it was, for he did not know what would be of his angel.
His wife's family had been evacuated to another area, without being shown what was around them. Jungkook had ordered blindfolds to be placed over them, and for them to be escorted out a clear path so they would not notice anything whilst they walked out. He knew he should have let them see Jennie, but by the lord above, he could not live seeing them break at the sight of his wife.
Images of his wife flashed through his mind being taken out of the room they were previously in, rushing her downstairs to the medial area of the home, underground. Luckily for being a man in the Mafia, a leader, Jungkook was able to have a doctor on scene as soon as he asked. Within a small time period, an elderly man arrived at his broken doors, ready to assist Jungkook in whatever his needs were.
Without saying anything, Jungkook had pointed in the direction he needed to go, not turning around to watch as one of his men escorted him to the area his wife was in.
His muscles were tense.
Thoughts of the past ran through his head at a slow and taunting pace. Each and every small detail tormented him, slowing at each heart breaking moment, as if deliberately trying to break him down. Being tortured physically was less painful for Jungkook. His wife's screams haunted his ears, and rang away as the clock ticked.
Seconds on the balcony turned to minutes, which gradually turned to a couple of hours.
The night began to set in, and as Jungkook looked down to the back garden of his home, and gazed at it longingly. He wished that this state was the state his wife was in. Frozen.
He didn't want her to die. No. He wanted to see her flower and grow into a beautiful rose, just like the ones he had in his garden. No one knew how much he admired his garden. Something his father and mother used to do together when he was a young boy. His mother used to help his father plant the most beautiful flowers and plants, filling up every corner of his parents
haven.
His life was the garden, and he knew the beauty of his garden would come from the flowers within. His woman. His wife.
He felt as if he was Jennie's bad omen. If he hadn't had acted in his dominant and selfish ways, he would not have kidnapped her, and forced her into these things she never had wanted. She had been so scared of him, and of his men the morning after he had hurt her that she didn't even physically fight her way out of marrying him. She signed her life away, shaking at the sight of the guns and intimidating males. She didn't even think about poisoning the dinner or cake she had made for him not days after. Although she had tried to run away, he pierced a panic so frightful down her spine that he ended up petrifying her into a state of submission. Even if her thoughts ran wild with eagerness to get away from him, he made sure that she knew that he would find her.He made sure that she knew who he belonged to. The reflection of the past only sickened him.How he managed to clip a bid of it's wings. How he managed to lock away a young woman's life, with all but one small key.
He hated himself for what he had done and what he had inflicted onto his wife, and never had he felt so disgusted. As a leader he always knew what was going to happen, but since he had found a weakness, what he knew was decreasing, and the worst part was what he did not know now. For he did not know if his angel was going to make it through the night.
