Tranquility

Trapped

Jihoon POV

If someone were to ask me what Kim Mingyu means to me in one word, I would say freedom. Why? Because ever since the day he spilled coffee down my shirt, it's like the sun came out of hiding.

All my life I have been trapped. At first, by the man who handmade my cage for me. Then the horrid memories that said man left me to endure for the rest of my life.

The few friends I do have are the best thing that's ever happened to me, but Mingyu is different. When we officially met and talked until late that night at the coffee shop after he approached me, it was like my whole life changed direction.

The trapped feeling I've grown so used to. The negative thoughts that would eat away at my brain endlessly. The feeling of dread that seemed to follow me everywhere I went. It all disappeared, and I was set free.

Flashback

Warning: Mentions of rape and violence.

~~~

My parents died in a horrible car crash when I was only seven years old. Since then I have been living with my uncle.

For a while it was okay. I was lucky enough to have family left that could take care of me. I didn't have to live in a foster home or be put up for adoption. Nothing out of the ordinary, but nothing good can last forever. That's just not how life works.

Five weeks after I had begun living with my uncle he started to come home drunk. I may have been seven, but it wasn't hard to pinpoint that the horrible stench was alcohol.

One night he came home outraged. I didn't know this when I greeted him with a small hello. I wish I had.

Before I knew it he was yelling at me. Far too close to my face for comfort. He called me horrible things; blaming my parent's death on me. I was confused. I was at a friend's house when they were hit on the way to the grocery store. Surely it couldn't be my fault.

When I asked what he meant by that he slapped me hard across the face and stormed to his room without another word.

As time passed he began to abuse me more frequently. I began to make sense of why he blamed me, thanks to all the yelling that came with each hit.

He has loved my mother since high school, but she chose his brother. My father. He said that if she had been with him this never would've happened. As if I had any control over who my mother chose to be with. It still didn't make much sense to me.

~~~

Three years went by before he decided to try something new. He had made a game out of it. "What's the worst thing I could do to you?" he would ask, "How can I truly satisfy myself?" It didn't take him long to figure it out.

A week later he came home drunk as usual. I was in the kitchen doing the dishes when he stumbled up behind me. I froze when he placed his hands on my hips. I tried to move away, but he only tightened his grip. There was nothing I could do.

He reached around me to turn off the sink. "Um U-uncle, w-what are you d-doing," I choked out. "Shh. Don't say another word, Ji. Don't make this harder on yourself. Just enjoy it," he whispered in my ear, a smirk evident in his voice.

I was shaking under his strong grip, unable to move away. What did he mean enjoy it? Enjoy what?

Before I could ask though, he lifted me up and set me down on the counter facing him. He laughed at my confused expression after sliding his large hand under my shirt.

"Ji, listen closely. You're going to enjoy this. You're going to enjoy me, you hear? And while you are, you aren't going to make a peep. Got it?"

I nodded, terrified of what he was about to do, but even more terrified of what he would do if I disobeyed.

The next day I woke up alone, naked in my bed. When I remembered what had happened the night before I began to sob.

I had stayed quiet. Tears pouring out of my eyes. He wouldn't stop. It went on for hours until the alcohol finally took control of him and he fell asleep.

After making sure he was out cold I ran back to my room, collapsing on my bed. Surely it wasn't okay. What that man did to me couldn't be okay. There had to be something someone could do about it.

I was proved wrong as time and time again he continued doing the same thing. My body getting weaker every day. I was covered in bruises and always in pain.

Soon, he began to lock me in his room. He said he didn't want his toy running away. The house began to stink. I could smell it in the room. Unwashed clothes and dishes adding up. No one around that could clean up the mess.

I spent my days drowning in my tears until my uncle returned. He would "let me enjoy him" as he called it, until he either fell asleep or threw me on the ground, finished with me for the night. It was the same thing every day. I was trapped in a never-ending nightmare with nowhere to go. No one to run to.

~~~

I stayed like that for four years, isolated from the world. After some time, my uncle agreed to let me out to clean the house once a month under his supervision.

On my way back to the house from taking out the trash one day I heard someone shout. When I turned around I saw a boy standing across the street. He looked around my age. Fourteen.

"Hi! I'm Jisoo! How come I've never seen you before?!" he shouted. Before I could reply he was shouting again. "Why are you all beat up? Are you okay?"

At that, I ran back into the house. I didn't want my uncle to find me talking to someone. He would probably hurt me further. Not that I thought he could at this point.

~~~

Three more years of torture. Early in those three years, I started refusing to speak. My uncle only wanted praise from my lips. Anything that could make him feel better about himself. I didn't see him as worthy. All he did was hurt me, so why should I praise him?

When he had a private doctor come to the house, one that he could trust to keep quiet, he asked him why I wouldn't speak.

The doctor, after many tests, deemed me mute. My uncle was furious, to say the least. He had gotten everything he wanted from me for almost ten years, and now he couldn't.

To say I was satisfied was an understatement. Those who went mute due to tragedy supposedly never uttered another word in their lives. I had won this battle.

I wasn't celebrating for long when his actions became rougher and more painful due to his anger.

When three years came to an end I found myself in the hospital, at age seventeen. Ten years I'll probably never recover from had finally passed.

Apparently, Jisoo had gone to the police after making sure that there really was something going on. I was rushed to the hospital and my uncle was thrown in prison. I didn't know how, but I needed to thank Jisoo.

That's when it all started. When he was finally allowed to visit me I wrote down my thanks on a small notepad the nurse had brought me.

Since I couldn't trust myself to speak, I wrote.

Present

I can safely say that I am addicted to the freedom that is Kim Mingyu.