Beaten

13

The bell goes for second break, Yoongi and Taehyung walk up to my desk as I pack all my things, "are you SURE that your parents haven't said anything about why they would be taking you out of school early?" Taehyung asks. I nod, "for the millionth time, yes, I am sure, my parents are weird they used to take me out of school all the time," I sigh. Yoongi just nods, "we'll come with you to the office," Taehyung says, picking up my bag as I get out of my seat. I smile and walk with them, although I was scared that they would reconise my Dad as the person I wrote off a few weeks ago. 

I walk up to the office and open the door, Taehyung and Yoongi wave me goodbye, but they don't leave. I was guessing they'd want to say another goodbye after I come out of the office; I see my Dad standing at the office desk, Mum wasn't there, making me ten times more scared. I walked up and stood beside my father, head bowed. Dad gave me a sideways glance before signing me out. "Come on," he growls, I could tell he was trying not to hit me over the back of the head, it had been five minutes after the bell had rung, and my father didn't like it if I was even a minute late.

He made his way out the office, I start to trail behind him until he pulls me to his side, "where did you get that jumper you're wearing?" He growled. "I-I bought it, with my own money," I whisper, he only growled in response. He opened the office door and walked out, I follow behind him and then step up to his side. I look behind me, Taehyung and Yoongi were just looking, I wave and smile. I could see my father's hand move out the corner of my eye, I flinch, "come on, walk faster," he orders. I do as I'm told.

We get to the car, "w-where are we going?" I dare to ask, "we're going home, your mother and I are going out, I had to make sure you got home, not going out and not coming home until the next fucking day," my father snarls, looking at me in disgust. "And don't think I've forgotten about that jumper, your going to get hell for it when we come back," he growled, leaning closer to me, I shrink down. 

He walks me through the door, I instantly go to the kitchen and start doing the dishes, just hoping that this would somehow calm his anger. My father doesn't even take note, he just grabs my mother and leaves the house again. I walk softly toward the couch, sit down and watch T.V. I felt tears prick my eyes for absolutely no reason, I could feel a lump in my throat. I just started crying, the pain behind my tears hurt me even more. "It hurts doesn't it, when you finally realise that you've cried so hard that breathing hurts," the little voice whispers. "Pretty lies and ugly truths," it says, although I didn't know what it meant by that. "Is it really easier to smile than explain that your pain?" A different little voice whispers. I sit up at this new voice.

It didn't spurt the harsh truth at me like the other voice did, I wipe my tears away I look down at my covered wrists and slowly I pulled down my jumper sleeve. What met my eyes made me want to cry even more, my wrists were cut open, red, blue and sore, I shakily touched one of my cuts and took my hand away immediately. I start to cry again, how pathetic could I get? I looked at my wrist and remember some of the quotes my old therapist told me, "breath, it's only a bad day, not a bad life," I remember him saying. I laugh, "a bad day? Just a bad day?" I say aloud. "THEN TELL ME WHEN THE FUCK THIS BAD DAY WILL END? WHEN WILL THE CONTINUOUS BEATINGS STOP? WHEN WILL I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND SEE SOMETHING I ACTUALLY LIKE? WHEN WILL I LOOK AT MY WRISTS AND SEE SMOOTH SKIN? WHEN WILL I SEE MY STOMACH AND NOT HAVE BLACK AND BLUE BRUISES EVERYWHERE?" I scream at my wrists as if it was my therapist. "Just a bad day that's been stretched out my entire life, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, JUST FUCKING FUCK YOU!" I scream.

I wake up, even if I don't remember going to sleep. I look behind me, my father and mother walk into the house, I look over at the time, school had just been let out. I sigh and just wait for my father to come over to me. I feel a hands on my shoulders, I pulled off the couch and thrown into the corner of the table. "YOUR GOING TO DIRTY THE FUCKING COUCH!" My father screams at me. I try to get up but Dad just kicks my face, pushing me back down. He picks me up by the neck and slams me against the wall. "JEON FUCKING JUNGKOOK A DISGRACE TO THIS FAMILY, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? CAN YOU NOT DO ANYTHING RIGHT?" My father screams in my face. He starts to choke me with one hand and slap me with the other.

I didn't know what it was, but something started to burn inside me, a burning rage, making me want to finally bite back. I feel a rush of adrenaline, "FUCK YOU DAD!" I scream at him. I kick his stomach, and he falls back, letting go of my neck. "FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!" I scream, I kick him, hard in the stomach. "FUCK YOU, I'M NOT A PUNCHING BAG, I CAN'T TAKE THIS, YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SHIT!" I scream at him. "Because you fucking are, you little shit," my father growls, starting to get up. His words only made the fire inside me burn brighter. "I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE YOUR FUCKING SHIT ANYMORE! I AM ASHAMED TO BE CALLED YOUR SON AND I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FIRE, I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE DAY YOU REALISE YOU MAKE THIS WHOLE FAMILY MISERABLE! MUM YOUR SLAVE, I'M YOUR PUNCHING BAG AND YOUR JUST A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! AND NO ONE LIKES YOU!" I kick him one last time before running out my house.