"Please sir I beg you, don't hit my husband" You clasped your hands and kneeled before the male who is whipping your husband without showing any mercy to the poor soul.
The pitiful screams of your husband echo through the village as none of the civ...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
You sat on the edge of the bed, your body partially covered by the crumpled sheets, their soft fabric doing little to comfort the rawness you felt inside. Your hair hung in wild disarray, your eyes hollow, devoid of any feeling. As you turned your head slightly, your gaze landed on him-the man who had shattered you. There he lay, sleeping peacefully, as if last night had been nothing more than a blur of dreams, his face calm, undisturbed. The sight of him ignited a slow-burning anger inside you, a fire that was growing hotter by the second. You swallowed hard, trying to contain the fury that boiled in your veins, the weight of what had been taken from you threatening to crush your chest. Quietly, you pulled off the sheets and slipped out of the bed, your bare feet making soft sounds on the cold floor as you walked toward the bathroom.
Inside, you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment before stepping toward the mirror. The reflection that stared back at you was one you could hardly recognize. Your body, once your own, now felt foreign, marked with bruises and bite marks from the night before. They were physical reminders of the violation, of how he had stolen something from you that could never be returned. Your dignity. Your sense of self. He had taken it all.
You clenched your hands into fists, fingers twisting into your hair as a scream ripped from your throat, the sound raw and broken as it filled the small space. Tears streamed down your cheeks, burning your skin as they fell, and your sobs grew louder, angrier, as the full weight of your pain bore down on you. You slammed your fists against the door repeatedly, your knuckles throbbing with each strike, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional agony.
Desperation clawed at you as you turned on the shower, the water cascading down. You scrubbed at your skin, your hands moving furiously as though you could erase his touch. But no matter how hard you scrubbed, no matter how much soap you lathered, it wouldn't be enough. His hands had left invisible scars, and you could feel them, deep beneath the surface. You collapsed to the floor, your back pressed against the cold tiles, knees pulled tightly to your chest. Your sobs echoed off the walls, and for hours, you cried, trapped in that endless cycle of grief, anger, and disgust.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Meanwhile, in the room outside, Jungkook stirred awake, groaning softly as he rolled onto his back. The sharp sunlight filtering in through the curtains stung his eyes, forcing him to squint as he came to. His body felt heavy, weighed down by the effects of last night's drinking. His limbs ached, his head pounded, and every muscle in his body seemed to protest as he shifted beneath the sheets. Slowly, he pushed himself up, yawning as he rubbed the back of his neck. But something was off.
