Baby Daddy | BTS Jimin

#6: Understand

Don't ask me how I ended up at his house because, I wouldn't be able to tell you. I myself, didn't know why I was here, my feet managed to take me here. I walked around the familiar neighborhood, letting my eyes take in the scene of the trees and the dark blue sky. The stars began to appear in the sky, it always gave me comfort. I let my nose take in the scent of flowers, that every home seemed to have. I was 16.

"Hey, what's going on?" He opened the door for me, he looked alarmed.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't even know, I'm having an episode."

He grabbed my shoulders pulling me in for a hug, he let me lean on his chest. "Thank you for coming here. I'm sure you had urges."

I nodded, emotionless. I hated when this happened, I hated when I felt this weak. Like I had no control over my own body. It was starting to get annoying and I felt like a burden to Jungkook. Coming to his dorm every time I felt like I had an urge to cut myself or throw myself off something.

He's been taking care of me for as long as I could remember, ever since he found out about what I was going through at home. When I was 13. He never left my side, I was always pretty vocal about my life at home. I always thought that maybe someone would listen and do something.

No one did, especially since my parents were well known. Little did anyone know where the bruises were coming from or the burn marks. My younger sister had none of that. Just. Me. She was the chosen one, I was the bratty rebellious one. Jungkook hated my sister for being the righteous one, the spoiled one. While I was starved, while I was living in a basement, I was given little food sometimes, none at all. I was the fat one, the bigger one. They did it so I could be a model, so my family would look beautiful.

I was beautiful, I've been told many times. But, I didn't have a small waist. I didn't have small thighs or narrow hips. My skin, white, my hair black and straight, my eyes a dark brown with long, dark, eyelashes. I took my father's features, his straight nose, his large almond eyes, his plump red lips, and almost perfect eyebrows. I looked photoshopped. My mother took care of our skin, our bodies, she was in charge. She was always in charge of what we wore, who we hung out with, who we didn't. I wouldn't dare tell her about Jungkook, the poor boy coming to school on a filthy bus, the boy who could barely afford our school's uniform, the boy who came to our school on a scholarship, not because his family had money.

Jimin, the school's playboy. The one with the most beautiful voice anyone has ever heard. He was the one after me. He was the one who chased me to no end. But, he wouldn't understand me like Jungkook would. I told my dad about them. I told my dad about the two boys, to encourage them to join the company. He nodded, he pitied me for being the way I was. My mother controlled him also, he knew her. He couldn't do anything but watch. He watched my skin become purple or sometimes even black. Those days, I stayed in the basement until they went away. That way, no one would ask questions. If I was asked, I should say, "I got sick." Anytime teachers asked about my absence, or "I had a photo shoot." All he did was turn away, as if it never happened. I would yell, scream, disobey. But, I was "crazy". My abuse was from being punished, for being so disrespectful. As if they gave me anything to respect.

Jungkook, that poor boy. I was here, outside his home causing him trouble once again. "I'm sorry" I whispered into his ear. He only pulled me in tighter. After an hour, he grabbed my arms, raising my sleeves. There it was. That beautiful bruise that began to turn black, on my forearm, and the green-yellow ones that were disappearing, the boils that began to appear from being burned with oil.

I was in high school. I was in middle school. I was in elementary. I was born. This was my punishment, to suffer. I stopped going to his home after we graduated.

My under eyes, black. My organs and skin couldn't take anymore abuse. They were failing me.