Zero only has one goal, to be human. Escaping from the cell that once contained her, the outside world, which she longed to see for so long, is filled with more darkness than she expected.
She is faced with a world that is determined to label her a...
Jimin had tried everything in his power to escape the hell he was trapped in. Banging on the door until his knuckles turned red and raw. Threatening the staff that he knew stood beyond the large white door. He had come to realise that a puppet can never be more powerful than the puppeteer. Sooner or later his hand controlling his strings would tighten and trap him in a role he wasn't fit to play.
That was exactly why he sat as still as a rock in a room shrouded with darkness. Where he couldn't tell apart day from night. He had no idea how much time passed since he got here. He could feel his body deteriorating due to eating one meal a day in protest. The world kept spinning while he was trapped in hell and there was no one coming to save him.
All for the grave sin of wanting to follow his dream of being a film director and failing. His father had given him an ultimatum. If he succeeded in making a name for himself in the film industry then he would be allowed to follow his passion. But his dream was extinguished before he was able to light the flame.
His father hated a lot of things and being embarrassed was at the top of the list. He had been embarrassed by his son's defiant career choice even when he pretended to be supportive. Making him fail was an easy problem that his vast wealth could fix. A few bribes here and there were enough for Jimin to be rejected by anyone he turned to.
His father wasn't as discreet as he thought he was. Jimin's counsellor from the university, Mr Davis, had informed him of his scheme.
There was always a price to pay when it came to his Father.
The son of the President should have been perfect in all ways. Jimin was far from that in his eyes. That's why he decided to lock his only son up until he had no choice but to be obedient. He needed him to be perfect so he could take over his position as the next president.
Jimin didn't care about that position. He never had and never would. He wished the people could see through his father's charismatic persona and generous donations.
Beneath all that was a monster who had no compassion. The state of the Mines was enough proof. The last thing he wanted to do was end up like his father.
So he became the exact opposite of his father's expectations. His father wanted him to have pompous hobbies like Polo and Golfing like the rest of his peers, he would spend hours filming everything around him, honing his skills as a storyteller. He was expected to be a sociable individual so Jimin never wasted his time on any of the pretentious snobs who spoke to him and was rude to anyone he didn't like.
His behaviour made him an outcast among his peers but he didn't care. After all, it was fitting that the son of a monster should also be a monster. He had his favourite characters. At least they were always their true selves instead of hiding behind masks of fake kindness. In the world of film, a villain was always a villain and a hero was always a hero.
His thoughts were interrupted when the room was flooded with a blinding white light. His father stood at the door, dressed to the nines in a black suit. Jimin didn't bother moving an inch. He wanted to sink deeper into the soft mattress he laid on and disappear. He wished that he was just having a nightmare, but his aching eyes told a different story. He kept his eyes on the floating dust particles in the cold air, wishing he could switch with them.
Being around his father was like being in a war. The only difference is that only one of them was armed. Jimin didn't know what he was fighting for. Did he want to change to be accepted or fight to be freed?
Sometimes his Father rained words with the intensity of a poisoned arrow. Sometimes it was nuclear bombs. All of them aimed directly at the muscle that pumps between his ribs.
'I'm getting you a penthouse in the city'.
He didn't let himself get excited about the prospect of freedom. There was always a catch when it came to his Father.
'I'll take over your lessons from now on'.
Bingo. He thought as a bitter smile tugged on his lips.
It was the usual cycle repeating itself. A temporary ceasefire that promised a fragile period of peace. At first, everything would be completely fine between them. Up until he realises that Jimin isn't the perfect son after he eventually messes up. He then retaliates with an even bigger attack.
Then finally, whatever little humanity he has in him prompts him to fill the gaping hole he left in his son's heart with a material possession. It went from expensive toy cars to real cars and now a penthouse.
It had already happened one too many times for Jimin to be swayed by the act. This event was the straw that broke the camel's back. He decided that if he left, he would never come back. Just like his mother.
'If you continue being troublesome, I'll have no choice but to cut you off', he paused to adjust the blood-red tie tighter around his throat until it was perfect.
'Do you want to live like those pathetic people in the Mines?'
'No sir', his throat forced out a response as he pushed himself to sit. Every inch of his body was aching from being immobile for too long.
'Are you now willing to cooperate with my plans for you?'
'Yes sir'
'Good, Mr Smith will go with you'.
He gave a curt nod to reply.
'Son. I love you and know that I only want the best for you', he announced his lies before disappearing into the large brightly lit hallway.
Jimin didn't bother to take a last look at his Father. He didn't even notice when the flurry of servants dressed in black and white uniforms flooded the room to tend to his aid. He was too busy planning his great escape from the clutches of the puppet master's strings. He never wanted to return to their family estate again.
A/N
Vote and comment or else🙂
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
