𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘁𝗵𝘆𝗺𝗶𝗮 - TMR AU, Minho.

17 - 𝙰 𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝

⚠️physical/verbal abuse and alcoholism!!
if you're struggling with any of this, please try to get help and talk to someone.

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Three weeks had passed after that night.

I needed some time to think.
To process everything we talked about that night.

I locked myself up in my room, only going out for work.
Although Minho wasn't visiting at cafe, as I asked him to stay away for a while.

After three weeks of endless thinking, it felt like I was losing my mind.

I wasn't visiting Newt at a bar anymore, nor was I going to the theater, even though Gally's leg had already healed.

Though Hunter wasn't texting me anymore. That's good, right?

(A/N: I just realized this is the first time when I mentioned his name. Let's just forget about that.)

"Mila second table is ready to order, be faster!" Alby yells out from the kitchen and I do as he says.

"One black coffee without sugar for me and a sprite for her." Lady smiles at me and I smile back, though I doubt it looks anything like a smile.

Alby gives me one glass filled with Sprite and a mug with coffee.
I manage poor smile at him as I try to serve with my trembling hands.

I fail. I drop everything on the floor and I go down with it.

What's wrong with me?
I was able to hide it for years, now I couldn't even stop myself from having a breakdown at my workplace. Pathetic.

"You alright dear?" Lady helps me to get up. At least she's nice.

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry."

"Oh don't be sorry dear, take a seat yeah?"

At that point, Alby rushed over to check on me too.

"Do you want to call someone to pick you up? Maybe that boy from the other day? You two seemed pretty close." I shook my head.

"No, I won't leave early."

"You're pale Mila, you can't work like that."

"I'm fine. I can work." My words came out harsh. What is wrong with me?

Alby nodded, leaving me alone.
I picked up shattered glass, mopped the floor because the cleaner was on a break, and went back to taking orders.

My mind was spinning.
I couldn't think about anything but the reasons of why Minho left.

How bad were the pictures? What was in those pictures?

After I finished my shift, I went home. I wish I could stay with someone since Newt was spending a night with Thomas and I didn't want to be alone with my parents.

As soon as I entered the living room, I regretted it.

He was drunk.

"Where were you?"

"At work."

Short answers, no talking back, no looking at his face, and most importantly, no crying.

"You call that working?" Dad scoffed and got up from the couch.
"You could've been useful at home, helping your mother a little, but all you do is be outside, or in your room."

Do.not.answer.

"Your father is right you know? When I gave birth to you I never knew you would be that useless."

Her words were always sharp. Sharper than any knife and I do have experience with many kinds of knives.

I knew she was trying to make me mad so I would say things and she would cry, as always.

I felt trapped between them.
It felt like they were searching for the reasons to attack me.

"Why aren't you saying anything, hm? Defend yourself, Mila!" Dad yelled, dropping a bottle of beer which shattered right away.

"Why did you drink?" Why can't I keep my mouth shut?!

"Oh so I can't drink now?" He scoffed. "You're just like your mother."

"Yeah? Is that why you hate me, Mom? Because I remind you of yourself?" Seriously, Mila. Shut up!

I felt a hard slap across my face. Followed by another one almost Immediately.

Yelling and Calling me useless? I was used to it.
But he had never hit me before.

Before I even got a chance to get up, he kneeled and pulled my head up with my hair.

"Apologize to your mother!" His yells were louder than ever.

Didn't he compare me to her in the first place?

"Stop, you're hurting her!" My mom rushed over to us and tried to free me from his grip.

Really, Mom?

He slapped my face again and I tasted more and more blood everytime.

That will leave a mark.

That's what she-
Not the time.

"Apologize!" He held my hair tightly, pulling with force and hitting me over and over again.

"I'm sorry Mom." I cried out in pain. "I'm sorry."

He let go and sat back on the couch like nothing happened.

Well, he was wrong. I was useful in something.

Being a target.
Being their target was what I was always useful for.

I promise I'll give her a break soon))

Take care!!☆