Imprisoned

Four- Tight Grip

Still holding that #1 spot for vegetarian y'all I'm so proud of myself.

Momma, I've made it.

"Thank you, Jisoo. You may go." I watched as she smiled softly at me, curtsying before exiting the large, yet empty, dining room, her heels clicking against the marble floors.

I sat alone at the oversized table, a single plate in front of me. I cleared my throat and folded the napkin on my lap.

I reached out for the silver fork to dig in to my meal when the grand doors opened, the sound of footsteps echoing off the marble walls as I watched my father getting closer to where I sat.

"Son." His voice was gruff, like it always is first thing in the morning.

"Father."

He sat down on the seat directly across from me, draping a napkin on his lap before he cleared his throat.

Jisoo scurried in with a plate of food for him, excusing herself once again before leaving the room, shutting the doors behind her.

"I figured it has been a while since we have had a proper meal together," He mumbled before reaching for his fork.

I stuffed a bite of eggs in my mouth, swallowing before taking a sip of orange juice. "Yeah, like a year or two." I spoke quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear. I knew exactly how long it had been, and at this point is was getting close to three years.

My hopes of him not hearing me failed when he dropped his fork with a sigh. "Son, we have been over this. I'm the King."

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm the Prince, I know. But have you ever considered the fact that you have a child?"

"You're a grown adult, Hoseok."

"That doesn't matter. You should think of me as an important part of your life no matter what age I am!"

"You don't need me to cottle you, Hoseok. Stop being a baby and eat your breakfast before it gets cold." I could tell he was getting angry, but he needed to know what it felt like to feel as if I didn't have a family.

I took another sip of orange juice to fill some of the awkwardness in the room.

"God, you're twenty-three and you still drink juice?" My father raised an eyebrow at the almost-empty glass next to me.

I shrugged. "It tastes good, father. It's not unusual for someone my age to drink it."

"It's unusual when that someone your age is the Prince, the future King."

I sighed, rubbing the spot in between my eyebrows. "God, I wish mother was here." I mumbled the words under my breath, but I was, once again, unfortunate for him to hear me.

"I thought I told you to never mention your mother in my kingdom again!"

I flinched at the sudden change in his voice. He was pissed, without a doubt. He reached across the table, grabbing a hold of my hair, making me yelp.

"That bitch got what she deserved, trying to run away with a servant. She knew what kind of artillery I had guarding our kingdom. She was the Queen, everyone knew what she looked like, even with a disguise on. She deserves being locked up in that wretched prison to rot." He knocked over my glass of orange juice, the liquid seeping off the table, staining the pants I wore.

"You gave her the death penalty. You're killing your own wife."

"She should've thought of that before she tried to run off with another man, a servant at that." He scoffed, spitting slightly in my face before he threw me back into my chair.

He stood up straight, adjusting his jacket, before inhaling a sharp breath. "When you're done, get Jisoo to clean this mess up. Don't forget to clean yourself up. You're the Prince for God's sake, look presentable."

He walked off before I could say anything in response. I eyed the mess on the table with a frown. I reached into my pocket, grabbing my phone and dialing Jisoo.

A moment later, she scurried into the room with her cleaning supplies, just as I was finally getting the courage to stand up to leave.

"Sir?" She spoke softly, my ears barely picking up her voice.

"Yes, Jisoo?"

She averted eye contact with me, pretending to be eyeing the mess on the table. "Is everything alright? Y-You seem a little off compared to a few moments ago."

"I'm fine." I dragged a hand down my face. "Get back to cleaning."

I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my pants as I exited the dining hall, headed back to my chambers to make myself appear more presentable.

••••

When that depression hits you like those bricks tossed at the burglars in Home Alone.