He's got the whole world in his hands | Jeongin

Chapter thirty-three

A/N: Trigger warning for mentions of sexual assault and rape.

_ _ _

The world will never stop going. The earth will continue to rotate on the tilted axis. The sun will continue to shine. The rain will pour and pour and pour. Blades of grass will sway in the wind. Flowers will still bloom and the people you love will continue to live. Life continues to go on after an assault, but it's never the same.

You can scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub. You can claw your wrists open while attempting to get rid of that grimy feeling, but it will remain embedded into your skin. With your own bright red blood oozing from torn veins, it will not go away. Every breath becomes difficult with polluted lungs. They cannot reach your organs, but you can still feel the dirt inside.

Your trauma will creep up on you while you lay in bed. After a hard day, you start to unwind and shut your eyes, but there it is. It whispers in your ear and suddenly you're haunted again. Invisible fingers trace your body, hands claw at you, and you will feel it all over again. No matter how hard you squeeze your eyes shut, you can still remember it.

Maybe it's all a blur of faint memories here and there. Maybe you still remember the exact shade of their eye color. The way that soft hands touch and grope. Perhaps, you still feel the sting of bruising. The sweet voice insisting that you're fine or one full of amused malice as they take a sadistic pleasure in your pain.

Whether you are peer pressured into it or forced against your will, it will never truly go away. You can try to heal, but when you're unprepared, it pounces. Shoving shadow hands over your eyes and latching onto you tight. No matter how hard you fight, it will always come back in full swing. Trauma cannot so easily be undone. Someone's two minutes of pleasure can be your entire lifetime's suffering.

No matter how hard you attempt to fill the gaps of trauma with other things, sometimes they will burst open against your will. No matter how hard you fight, you're not an invincible being. You're still a mortal with open wounds, an aching soul, and susceptible experiences.

People have been selfish since the beginning of time. From committing petty crimes, putting down others to seem higher on society's pedestal, or simply taking the last slice of cake due to the sin of gluttony; some people just never have enough.

The college student who assaulted Minsi never had enough. He took what he could and Minsi was naive. The innocent little college freshmen who showed up alone. He prowled around that party like a lion hunting his prey. Most people knew to stay clear of him, but some didn't. The energy was high and giddy and Minsi just looked too pretty to pass up. Doe-eyed, smoking in that tight outfit, and he couldn't help himself.

Nobody discusses what it's like to grow up with the damaging mindset of a self-fulling and narcissistic privileged man; a man who holds his head high in life. His inflated ego is only engulfed and enabled by those around him. For some, privilege is earned, for others it's injected into their blood at birth. From the way they're raised, their parents, the attitude, and the wealth.

When you grow up with toxic masculinity and nobody corrects your behavior, it stays that way. Masculinity is normal, but when it inches into the dog-eat-dog world, the belief that men are at the top of the food chain, the belittling of women, the sexism, the violence, the aggression, the list goes on and on.

They say nature vs nurture is important. When you tell a dog to obey and follow said traits with praise and treats, a dog will learn to do your bidding. The exact same goes for a boy. When you grow up being praised for belittling little girls, fighting other boys to be at the top of the class, playing your sports dirty, and bragging about your name; those same vulnerable boys will be conditioned into dominating men.

The kind of men that never understand the word no. The world revolves around them and only them. Minsi Park was just eighteen, a girl just entering the world of womanhood. College was supposed to be a fresh start, but he didn't care. She was his for the taking, no matter what. Just another body, just another use, just another object to dispose of and toss in the wind.

He didn't care that later on that night, Minsi would be found unconscious by two other guys. He didn't care that he didn't use a condom. She'd spend the hot shower at Han and Minho's dorm room trying to wash away sperm. In the morning, she'd spend too much money on plan b and pray to a God she didn't believe in that it didn't lead to pregnancy.

He didn't care that his touch would haunt her. Whatever happened after his orgasm, it didn't matter. In his head, if anything, she should have been thankful. She walked into that party with a t-shirt and a mini skirt. He was giving her what she wanted. If she dressed like a whore, she must have wanted to be treated and used like one too. The word 'slut' was practically stamped on her forehead in his head.

As Minsi fell apart in Jeongin's arms, she couldn't stop sobbing. She couldn't stop her fingers from curling into his white button down and seeking some kind of pillar to save her from drowning in her thoughts. How were you supposed to tell your own mother that you were sexually assaulted when your own mother believed in that mindset too?

Women; only good for being used by men. The internalized misogyny had been driven into her ever since she began to try to find a church to attend. The belief that women should get married and have kids. Their purpose was to be the perfect little homemakers. The kind that give up their dreams for a man. The ones who break themselves down to mold themselves into the perfect wife and mother.

When Minsi first enrolled in college, her mother freaked. She had been so determined to set Minsi up with someone from the church. Every time she tried to plan something with Minsi and a guy similar to her age, she left. She drove aimlessly around town. She sat on swing-sets alone and pondered life underneath skies full of bright blues, soft pinks, and fire oranges.

She debated if going to college was a good idea. She struggled trying to find herself. Her mother's thoughts and opinions kept her up some nights and left her sleepless. Maybe being a wife was all she was good for. Taking the last name of some man and wearing white to her own wedding. Going along with it all, birthing kids one right after the next, and staying home all day cleaning and cooking.

Her mother did it, her mother's mother did it, her father's mother did it. Everyone in the previous family generations seemed to do it. She truly considered it, but then she thought about how happy certain subjects made her. How much she wanted to study brains, to piece together happiness for some, to make the world seem a little brighter for families who lost their loved ones.

But the night of the assault, it nearly broke her. Something shattered in herself that night. Angel wings were ripped from her back and tossed to the side. The stench of bad breath and beer, a stranger's saliva, broken capillary hickies from yellow crooked teeth.

She laid on that stained mattress without a sheet and she tried to find the energy to leave. She couldn't help, but wonder if her mother was right. Maybe that's all women were good for. As she sobbed in Jeongin's arms, the thought came back and took her breath away. Here she was, a woman, falling into the arms of some strong god-driven man.

It snuffed out a small part of her, but maybe her mother was right; maybe she was meant for nothing, but a man.