Destin [ON HOLD]

F I F T E E N

Taehyung's POV.

Thirteen.

Exactly thirteen cuts.

All carved respectively over my arms and thighs. My eyes are hooded as I asses the art I had created before me.

Disgusting.

Nothing would help. Nothing.

In the end I'm still the ugly boy who trailed behind others. The second choice.

Clean it up. Quickly. It is V who speaks, a tone of urgency and concern is his voice as the deep red begins to crawl and bite at my elbows, drenching the shirt I am wearing.

"I'm fine."I deadpan, eyes never straying from the pool of red.

Stop being selfish. The tiles will become stained from your blood.

I scold myself as I understand his words, stumbling to my feet as I mumble a string of apologies.

Shut up and clean this up, you worthless bitch!

"Okay."I stutter,"I'm s-sorry."

He only scoffs before disappearing, not forgetting to add a colourful insult.

______________________

I don't go down to breakfast that morning.

I remain in my bed, body rigid, breathing shallow and eyes unblinking from the creamy patch on the ceiling.

My fists are clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms and arms until the cuts that had I created which had previously begun to scab, reopen, a fiery sting erupting across my skin.

A choked sob leaves my lips, tears flooding down my cheeks. Hiccups or occasional groans of pain follow on, as I try and regain my breathing.

It had been the same dream.

But worse.

It had been the exact dream for now four night in a row. All of them would stand above me, jeering as I try and scramble to my feet. Their faces would slant, melting into the others as their uncharacteristically high pitched screams echoed of the never ending black.

Strings of insults and curses would fall from their mouth, screaming and yelling as they push out at me. Trapping me. Holding me in the world of pain. Of anguish.

It's terrifying.

Because I can't wake up from them. I can't escape. The moment I close my eyes they were back.

The screaming. The taunting.

Everything.

They would all come back, slamming against me as I try and hold onto the last specks of colour that were threateningly to fade into the dull black.

"Taehyung."

It's his voice that snaps me out of the haze of black that I have slowly fallen into.

It is only then do I realise that my fingers are curled around the base of my neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin as I gasped for breath.

"Taehyung!"he exclaims,"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He's at my side now, holding my hands that had once been wrapped around my neck. Broken cries fall from my lips, my body wracking from each sob.

Everything hurts.

My arms. Legs. Stomach. Neck.

I hate this. I hate the feeling of vulnerability I am experiencing as he holds me as I cry.