Roses - Yoonmin FF

eighth

↢ jimin ↣

JIMIN was dragged into the house by his spiteful father, getting thrown onto the couch, back being cut by the many bottles of beer below him. He winced when the remaining of the liquid seeped into his wounds, making them sting and swell. "Where were you, huh? Who said you could leave the house without permission?" Jimin pursed his lips, biting his tongue in order not to say something along the lines of 'well actually I left school, not home,'

"I-I..." he sputtered out, backing up upon instinct when his father got closer. "Fucking tell me, you little bitch. If you don't you're going to get the punishment of a lifetime," Jimin trembled, tears welling up in his eyes. "Hm... that's what I thought you'd do, dollface. Now, I'm going to make your pretty little face ugly," his father caressed Jimin's cheeks, a malicious smile playing on his lips. "And don't you dare try to resist." Mr. Park walked away, leaving Jimin to sob silently to himself. He considered getting his phone and texting Yoongi about the situation, but the poor boy was probably sleeping or enjoying his time with his friends; he didn't want to interrupt that. 

Maybe he could run away? No. His father would still find him nonetheless. He let the tears stream down his chubby cheeks, thinking of everything that his father could do. The worst he had ever done is hit him, surely he wouldn't go farther... right?

"Fuck," Jimin cursed when he saw his father emerging from the kitchen. "Don't you use that shitty-ass language with me. Get your ass over here," Mr. Park gestured to the open space in front of him, one hand behind his back. "Fuck," Jimin rasped again, getting up and mewling at the pain in his back. "Try not to make any noise, this'll hurt..."

"Wha-what are you going to do to me? I didn't really disobey you, you never told me I couldn't--!" Mr. Park slid his hand across Jimin's face, leaving a huge, throbbing red mark. "Do you want another one?"
"No sir,"
"Who said you could talk?" Mr. Park slapped him again.
"Well, you asked me a question, I-I-I thought I should--" Once more, he felt that all too familiar pain on his face. "You never know when to stop, huh?" Jimin gulped, biting his tongue. "It's time for your punishment, doll~" his father cooed in a singsong voice, using one hand to lift Jimin's chin. "What is he gonna do?" suddenly, he felt his father's chapped lips on his and he gasped, instantly trying to pull away. But alas, Mr. Park's hand on his chin forced him to stay. "Stop!" he screamed into the kiss, pushed at his father. 

It took a while, but all the air was sucked out of him, making him faint onto the floor. 

Jeez... all he wanted to do was have fun for once... why does it always turn sour?

<later>

Jimin opened his eyes and shrieked, fire engulfing his body. "What the fuck--" everything was dark; he couldn't see a thing. He breathed in sharply, lungs aching from breathing in so much smoke. The ground beneath him was burning hot, but still not yet on fire. The walls in which he was encased in burst into flames, taking Jimin's clothes and skin with it. He let out a strangled howl, clutching at his throat and coughing. "Let me out!" he screeched, banging his burning hands against whatever held him there. His palms grazed fire, but he wanted out. Now.

He kicked and thrashed, only getting himself more burnt in the process. He probably wouldn't make it out of their alive. He was going to burn to death!

He cried and cried, hoping his tears were put out the fire. "'The fuck did I do to deserve this?" he rammed his foot on the object opposite to him, hearing a small click. Whatever he did seemed to have released more smoke into his casket. "Shit," he drawled, vision getting fuzzy and brain going numb. He had no idea what to do in this kind of situation. He pounded on the wood, thinking that maybe, just maybe it might crack. "Get me out of hear!" the fire licked at all his sides, burning his skin through the fabric. 

With one final punch, the latches that bound the lid in place came undone, the cover falling to the floor. He could now breathe, and was able to see the ceiling of his room and his surroundings. He let out a cracked cry, sobbing into his hands as he emerged from the box. It was thin and long, tailored to the right size just for Jimin. The wood was thick and blackened, he was surprised it wasn't crumbling at this point. The fire was put out instantly when he opened the lid, some sort of watery substance filling the box. "What the hell..." his skin was red and irritated, blisters and cracks blooming all over his skin. Luckily, it had no white, leathery look to it, so he wouldn't have to go to the hospital. They'd send him to a mental asylum anyway if they listened to his explanation. 

He lived through the pain as he moved, eyes squinted and hands fumbling around for his phone. His back twinged all over, probably from the cuts from Mr. Park's beer bottles. When he saw no sight of his phone, he gave up searching. It was most likely in his backpack. He made his way over to his drawer and slowly and antagonizingly changed his clothes, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The only parts of his body that weren't covered in blisters were his feet and anything above his mouth. "Fuck, I'm so ugly," he exhaled as he went to pick up his bag, which was conveniently placed right by the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he nearly jumped out of his own skin at his father's deep voice, eyebrows furrowing in fear.

"No-nowhere," and with that, he was off, dashing out of his room and out the front door. "Get your fucking ass back here!"

Jimin bawled, reaching his small hand up and wiping at his eyes. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and hissed at the contact, stretching his other hand into one of the pockets and successfully finding his phone. He sent a quick text to Yoongi.

me:
hyung, what's your address?

yoongo boongo:
why are you asking?

me:
just fucking tell me

yoongo boongo:
damn okay its xxxx blah blah blah 

Jimin exited the messenger app and typed in Yoongi's address to Google Maps, nodding in satisfaction when he realized he was going the right direction. He followed the map, feet throbbing in pain every time they connected with the asphalt. No shoes, no lose, I guess you could say. 

He saw his destination approaching and sped up, wanting to be far away from his home and his father. He would block his number then delete him, just for the fun of it. Jimin stumbled onto Yoongi's porch, falling right in front of the door. "What the hell was that?" he heard Yoongi's deep muffled voice from inside the house and whimpered, wanting to feel his touch. He wanted some sort of healing comfort, some sort of affection. His head slammed into the door, making his eyes roll back into his head in pain. The door opened only a moment after. 

He heard Yoongi's startled gasp and groaned, his arms going limp. "Jiminie, what happened to you?" Yoongi squatted down in front of him, concern practically written into his features. Jimin struggled to breathe, his body thumping in the effort it took to keep himself awake. "Jiminie, don't--" Yoongi's voice faded to nothing as Jimin's vision want completely blank. 

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hell yeah bitches

- vani
august 11th, 2018, 12:29 AM