Destin [ON HOLD]

T W E L V E

Taehyung's POV.

I wake up in the bathroom, red everywhere.

It is splattered against my clothes, the tiles and my skin.

Jin will kill me for getting the bathroom dirty.

My vision is blurred, and my wrists feel as if they had been on fire.

Memories of the previous night flood into my mind and I find myself smiling eerily. The pain...the pain had been strangely comforting. As if it were made for me. As if I was destined to feel such thing.

I deserve the pain. I deserve the blood.

Because I am simply bringing everyone down. I don't deserve to be here.

I deserve to die.

Glad we're on the same page. V drawls.

I smile,"Thank you."

V frowns. For what you dumbfuck?

"For teaching me the truth of my existence. I don't deserve any of this."

For some reason V stays quiet, disappearing into the depths of black in my mind.

I glance down at my wrists.

What I see horrifies me.

Long pieces of flesh had been peeled revealing alien looking like veins below. Smudges of red paint my pale skin, hands of the colour streaking off to the tips of my elbows.

I always knew I was ugly. Very ugly. But what I see before me disgusts me.

I stumble to my feet, the world wobbling dangerously. With trembling fingers, I pull open the drawers, blindly searching for the medical box.

My hands hit the green box and I yelp as a wave of pain flashes up my wrist from the simple gesture.

You deserve this. I remind myself, firmly.

Damn right you do.

For some reason V's voice is shaky as if he is uncertain about something.

My eyebrows pinch together and I can't help but feel concerned for the taunting voice in my head who had made sure to dedicate its life to torment me.

"You okay?"I murmur quietly as I apply gauze onto my arm, after running it under water, occasionally wincing.

Yeah, why do you care? V snaps, a hint of caution and surprise in his tone.

"I'm sorry."

He mumbles something incoherent and disappears before I can question him any further.

I stay in the bathroom for maybe another half an hour, bandaging up my wounds and scrubbing away any trace of my date with the small metal last night. Tears flood down my cheeks at every pressure I apply to my arms.

It hurts like hell.

But I don't regret it.

Because it made me feel good. As sadistic as it sounds, something about the crimson blood and the fire that ignited on my skin intrigues me. Temps me.

I want more.

I want to feel the rusted metal against my scared skin, reopening the cuts as blood spilled against the white of my clothes.

I bit my lip, drawing blood as I refrained my from lunging at the razor again.

We had a vocal session today and from what I predicted with the aid of the light spilling into the toilet, I was very near late.