Dark Alarms || kth

Chapter 2

~2~

Taehyung's pov.

I slam the door shut, locking myself in.

I hear him screaming to himself, banging the walls.

''WHY DID I DO IT? STUPID, STUPID FUCKER THAT'S WHAT I AM!'' he shouts angrily, before sobbing hysterically.

I walk over to my bed sighing, before sitting down with my hands on my head.

''no...nO. SHE DESERVED IT. RIGHT? RIGHT.'' I hear the fridge door shut.

The air is suddenly rent by the sound of glass being shattered into pieces.

I wait for him to say something - anything, but I am only met with the piercing sound of nothingness.

Grabbing the doorknob, I fiddle with the lock desperate to get it open as fast as I can.

I swing the door open, bolting down the stairs before running over towards the kitchen. He's slumped against the fridge, a broken beer bottle clenched in his hand muttering things to himself I can't quite put together.

Sighing, I walk over and help him get up.

''..my fault. all my fault.'' he slurs, wobbling in my grip.

''ssh.It's okay, dad. I've got you.'' I say more to myself than him.

Ever since mum passed away his physical and mental health has begun to slowly deteriorate. He's gotten weaker.

It's not the same as it was. You would think most single parents would care much harder for their child, but some don't, not if they can't.

So instead, I look after him.

I look at my fathers face. He grows more wrinkly within each day; looking as though he has too much skin to cover his wilting frame. His face has lost its healthy brown colour fading to an ashy grey, as if dust has begun to gather on his withering body.

His eyes begin to shut; his closed lids make his bare face look even more empty. He smells like cigarettes and alcohol; the way broken people do.

His body grows limp in my arms and I can feel his warm raspy breath. I shuffle over to the sofa, making sure my grip is strong so he won't fall out of my arms.

I lay him down on a pillow before heading to the toilet and grabbing a soft towel. I wet it with warm water and take the first aid kit.

I dab the towel lightly on his cut lip which he must've gotten from trying to drink out of the broken bottle.

He mumbles before rolling onto his side and I pull a blanket over him.

Before my mum died, I'd never seen my dad cry.

I always knew him as a cold and heartless person. But when he was stood in front of her gravestone, I saw his eyes turn glossy with tears. I saw him break down when he found out, we found out. Ever since...it's all changed.

I blink, unleashing the pearl-shaped tear down my cheek. I wipe it off quickly, I can't start now.

We've just moved here, a week or two ago. I couldn't stay in that house with him any longer, the screams, the cries. They'd just get louder and louder. Especially the constant reminders, memories of her. I couldn't handle it anymore, so I told my uncle it'd be better off if we move and he sorted out the rest.

As much as I hate moving, I knew I'd have to deal with it instead of focusing on myself and my problems.

I guess I'll just have to get used to it, it's for the best.

yess, it's short. idk what to write-

comment pls (: