Sour // ( J.J.) (discontinued)

1/escape

"No," you protested at your father, glaring up at him.

This only earned you another smack to the face.

"(Y/n), sign the papers already!" Your father ordered, returning the glare, You just stared at him. Through gritted teeth, in a more harsher tone, you stand up from the chair. "No!" You yell, eying the pen on the table.

A perfect weapon.

"Youre forcing me to do this! I'm sick and tired of living like this. Let me go!" You balled your fists together, trying not to beat your dad. "I don't care. I do so much for your ungrateful ass, so sign the papers you brat."

You closed your eyes, not wanting to fight, not wanting to argue. Every day you went through this and you were sick and tired of it. Your mind took you back to when you were little, your family got along. They would play with you, tuck you into bed. Everyone had real jobs and didn't get their money off of you. You were happy. Everyone was happy.
Your Eomma and Appa greeted you with kisses everytime you got home from school and surprised you with your favorite foods. Then, they made you drop out. and starve you.

So you could practice.

With the last burst of energy left you sighed and grabbed the pen on the desk. You didnt want to hurt anyone, this lifestyle was just horrible and toxic. You NEEDED to escape. Your emotionless eyes fluttered open as your plump lips muttered, "no."
You flared your nostrils as you swung your arm around, stabbing your dad in the eye.

And you didn't stop stabbing him.

Your dads yells in pain echoed through the room. He backed away from you and began shaking furiously, trying to grab the pen. "Fuck you," You screamed, jumping at him and shoving the pen deeper into his eye socket. He screamed even louder and fell over, tripping over the coffee table on the ground. The loud thud alerted the guards. Three of them came rushing into the room. When they saw what you had done, they had surprised expressions on their face. They were shocked, cause you were never violent. Not ever.
Two grabbed you, pinning you down on the gray sofa next to the coffee table. The third guard rushed over to your father, grimacing. He pulled out a walky talky, "There has been an incident with boss Kim, please get the medics and some pain meds. NOW, and come QUICK. Or there will be consequences and you will all be fired." He ordered in a fierce voice.

You didn't care how much trouble you were about to get in. Stabbing your dad felt good, relieving. All of the pain he has caused you over your stupid talent in order to make himself rich wasn't worth it. God, you were already rich. The reason he's wearing that gucci watch and designer shoes is because of you. Without you, he wouldn't be here.
"Don't force me to do shit ever again, you old fuck." You tilted your head back and gargled some spit in your mouth. Before shooting it out you smirked. then spit it on your fathers body.

"What are you thinking?!?Take her the fuck out of here!!!" He ordered, hissing at his daughter.
One of the guards pointed a gun at your head as the other one grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking it back so you were looking at the ceiling. You hissed in pain, it felt like they were scalping you as he dragged you by your long hair.
Once in the hallway, the guards dropped you and let you scramble to your feet. "Touch me and you'll end up like my father." You said calmly, throwing your hands up to get ready to fight. One of the men punched you in the stomach, causing you to fall to the ground, gasping for air. "Shut up you brat." He said harshly, kicking you in the back.

The other guard joined in, harshly kicking you in the face or the gut. Everytime they swung their feet at you, the more you just wanted to die. It hurt, and you were coughing up blood. The red hot liquid coming up your throat and out your nose got all over the carpet, making them kick you even harder. "Tch, Stop making such a mess!" One of the guards yelled, kicking you one last time. You wheezed in pain, clutching your stomach and curling into a ball.