Mercy - Taehyung (BTS)

Chapter 16

Taehyung's pov

The ground embraced me as I stumbled and fell. The burning feeling had grown stronger as if I was being burnt alive, forever doomed to burn in the depths of hell for eternity. I clasped my hands against my ears, agitated at the ringing and begging the demon to make the pain stop. I was in the forest which surrounded the estate, a place which had become a sort of sanctuary. For as long as I could remember it would shield me from my father's anger and hide me from the lies which I was forced to live behind.

My mother was very wise but she knew little about what had happened to me all those years ago. She knew little about the torture and she turned a blind eye to the trauma which I had been faced with. She knew why I had to live out my life as someone else but she acted oblivious as if she could not fathom my reasons, despite my explanations.

I punched the hard ground beneath me, the mixture of soil and tree roots were what I took my frustrations out on. I was helpless just as I always had been, plagued by a sense of self loathing and resentment. I envied everyone who had lived their lives normally, even Jimin. The illegitimate child, who despite the colour of his eyes, was still accepted, adored by almost everyone and even cherished far more than I had ever been in the eyes of the people. My mother saw Jimin as a son and I knew she visited him far more than she did me. She would help him with the gardens, spending hours on maintaining the garden which they had grown in my absence.

I had returned after my three years of absence and I was no longer the favourite, the others had moved onto Namjoon, obsessed and entranced by the colour of his eyes. They worshiped him and I was thrown to the side, no longer their favourite, no longer who they longed to be. So I became someone who they simply could not ignore, someone who they feared so they faked their love and showered me with gifts and honour but in their hearts the very sight of me filled them with disgust.

I moved my hands to my face, desperately trying to claw out my eyes, angered by who I was. I hated my eyes because ever since they had appeared they had brought me nothing but pain and they had single handedly made me a disgrace. My nails did little damage, but the pain which had come as a result of my anger, was a blessing. It made me feel as if I was fighting back, as if I was doing my best to get rid of my cursed eyes.

My shirt was untucked and my white hair was a mess, tousled by the wind. I had already begun to miss the bright red colour that I had always hidden behind, longing for its comfort and its power. The colour white felt like a canvas, it was bare and had nothing to hide behind; it was on display with no colourful paint coat to conceal it of what it really was. My face was scratched up, but I had hardly drawn any blood. I stumbled over to the nearby stream, hoping to rinse my face with water before I would walk home. I was met with my reflection; it stared back at me with self hatred. I sighed, what a pitiful sight I had become.

The demon stirred within me, watching my breakdown with interest, calculating my every move and thought so that he would strike when he deemed fit.

"Why do you fight yourself young one?" the demon spoke as if he knew the answer to his question already.

I was shocked out of my thoughts, the demon had previously filled me with thoughts but since his appearance, he had not spoken a word until that moment.