Stigma #3 » k.th ✓

one

a/n: trigger warning.

Taehyung

Father raised a hand at me once again the moment I entered the house and attempted to show him my affection. His breath reeked of beer, his hand clutching down my throat while he lifted me up in the air and threw me hard down to the ground. He scoffed and spat at where I landed, muttering I belonged there.

Off he went back inside his room to sleep for the whole day. I was only ten, then. Lisa was a year younger, but that was no excuse to traumatize my sister. My sole reason to live longer; my strength and my weakness.

I held her hand and gave her a smile, even after what had just happened before her eyes. “Hey, your big brother isn’t crying, is he?” Although the fall hurt, twice after the slap on my left cheek. It’ll soon leave a mark, I’m sure.

“Aren’t you hurt?” She managed to utter out, her voice already shaking under her breath.

“I’m stronger than that. I’m your brother.” I held her hand in mine. “And I will always protect you.”

We didn't have a mother. We never actually met her. Father would sometimes call her a 'slut' or a 'whore' for leaving us for another man. But never did we hear her name or what she did to him that made him so angry to the state of passing the burden over to us. But it was questionable how she could bear to leave us with an irresponsible adult who does nothing but pass his chores and patriarchal duties to us. I would never let Lisa get ahead of me and do something around the house. It would be unbearable, so I would tell her to just simply focus on studying and to rely on me.

Five years passed and things were still the same. Father continued to drink and make a mess out of the house, leaving pieces of evidence of his addiction all over the floor and would expect me to clean it all up. He hadn’t been working, thus forcing me to find a part-time job for us to survive. I was in middle school, then, when it happened. My part-time was to deliver milk cartons to different houses, no matter how long the distance each houses had from the last. I had to. It was all for us--me and Lisa.

Just a bit more and we're out of here. I'm simply waiting to reach the legal age, then we'd be able to get out of here, go live in a new place I've been saving for, and get ourselves to a good college far, far away from him. Although, we had to start over and find a new hiding place since he found our money and took them to buy himself another whole box of beer.

For now, it's safe to say that Lisa trusts me. And looks up to me as her big brother. Sometimes, she’d go over to my room, pout and almost as if she were afraid to talk to me, but turns out just needs help in solving math problems and help her with her homework. Soon, thankfully, she learned to self-study and gained friends who can help her with any difficulties. I got to meet them and they were nice, so far. I hope they become friends for a longer period.

In my level, I chose basketball as a hobby or rather a sport to play whether I'm bored or needed as a representative for class. Sometimes, a replacement for when one of the varsity players in my class get sick or injured. I didn't exactly have friends. But apparently, you're counted in the group as long as you share the same club of interest. That's when I met Park Mingyo, the so-called 'leader' of the team. He'd accepted me as one of them and has been nice to me ever since; treating me like an idol and such.

One day, my friends (the members of the basketball team) decided to drag me to a secret place where no one could see or badmouth us if ever we do bad stuff like smoke and get drunk. They would keep encouraging me, trying with all their might to get me to their addiction, but I would refuse and simply observe by the corner. Not because I'm scared to lose my friends, but because they're my team and I can't just leave my team; no matter how uncomfortable I am to be witnessing this both in school and at home.