reef knot

four

December 2, 2016, 9 p.m.

"Jiyoung-ah!" is the first thing I hear the moment I step into the house.

I look up to see Dad rushing towards me, his strong arms engulfing me into a warm embrace. I freeze, not pushing him away, but not hugging back either - just standing there a little awkwardly as my father proceeds to rake my body for any signs of injury.

"Dad, I'm fine," I assure him, though my tone is flat.

"I was worried sick!" he exclaims, before pulling me into yet another hug. "I'm so glad you're alright. Don't go off on your own next time, alright?! Imagine if Yoongi didn't take the initiative to go after you. You would have been dead by now!"

At the mention of Yoongi, my gaze subconsciously flits behind me, towards my mint-haired bodyguard. I feel like thanking him, but considering his ego, he'd probably take advantage of my gratefulness instead of appreciating it.

"He told you about Hoseok and Namjoon?" I ask, gently pulling away from Dad's embrace.

Dad sighs, whether in relief or in exasperation, I do not know. "He doesn't need to tell me for me to know that they attacked you," he tells me, a little mysteriously. Pinching my cheeks, he adds on, in a more lighthearted tone, "I always have my eye on you, so don't you dare do anything stupid!"

I give him a small smile. "Stop being a nag," I tease, before turning to Yoongi. "We should go get your wounds treated," I say, about to bring him to the kitchen where the first aid kit is, but Dad interrupts before I can put in another word.

"Yoongi got hurt?" he asks, concern written all over his face. Walking towards the green-haired boy, he grabs Yoongi's hand and pulls it into his line of sight. "Your joints are all jacked up," he mutters, "You must have hit really hard."

"I'm fine, Mr. Park," Yoongi assures him, but Dad shakes his head.

"Jiyoung is right, we need to get these treated," Dad pauses, snapping his fingers as a gesture for one of the maids to come forward. "Get the first aid kit and help Yoongi wrap up his fist," he orders her, and the maid nods, leading the boy into the kitchen.

"I'll be in my room if you need me," I excuse myself, before heading upstairs.

Dad opens his mouth, as if to say something more, but thinks better of it, deciding to bring it up another time. "Good night," he says with a small grin.

"Night, Dad."

***

A ear-piercing clash resonates throughout the apartment, the sound of glass shattering into a million pieces. The clash is immediately followed by the fearful cries of a woman, her voice all too familiar.

Even though I haven't heard her voice in almost six years, I recognize it immediately.

Mommy.

Widening my eyes, I dash out of my room, to see my mother cowering in the corner of the living room, her knees hugged to her chest and her head buried in her hands. In front of her, the glass vase has ruptured into a million crystals, as if a gigantic glacier vomited all over our carpet.

At the sound of my footsteps, my mother, shivering in utter terror, turns towards me, her face streaked with tears. "Jiyoung, baby," she forces a smile, "Go back inside the room, alright? Everything will be fine."

Although her voice calls my name, her eyes aren't staring straight into mine - she's staring behind me. Matching her gaze, I turn to see a little girl standing beside me, a stuffed bear in her hands.