As You Can See|tk

7| this "house" was no where near home

WARNING: triggering content ahead; read with caution or just don't read it at all...idk

Jungkook—

I parked my sports car in front of the huge house, and got out of the vehicle, as slowly as possible. I hated coming home. I hated seeing him. I hated seeing her. I just hated everything that lie within the structure. This "house" was no where near a home, in my perspective. No. It was as close to hell as you can get, on planet Earth. Happy memories that came from here burned in the back of my mind years ago. All that's left is the misery and longing of being set free.

At turtle speed, I approached the grand doors, and let myself in, bracing for anything to happen. Yet, for some reason, everything was quiet. With a tremendous amount of caution, I stepped into the interior, eyes darting around. Quietly, I walked around, not even bothering to take off my shoes. My gaze landed on the door to my parent's room, causing me to stop. I shuddered at the possibility of what might be; but knowing him, he'd probably do it.

I raised my fist and knocked on the door. After a moment, my father's voice rang out from inside. "Yes? Is that you, Jungkook?" His voice was muffled from the heavy wood, that stood between us, making it hard to discern what was going on in the room. Making a split-second decision, I spoke up again. "Yeah. It's me. I need you to sign something. I'm coming in now." I placed my hand on the doorknob, finding that it was locked. Cursing under my breath, I pulled out a paper clip, and bent it, to fit into the keyhole. After a bit of prodding, I managed to unlock the door.

"Hold on, son, let me just—"

I didn't let him finish his sentence, as I yanked the door open, revealing the depressing scene before me. There was my mother on the floor, dripping blood from her chest down, a towel tied around her mouth. Father was coming out of the bathroom with a new pair of clean clothes on, his hands still slightly stained red.

Anger boiled in the pit of stomach, as I saw red. "Why? I thought you've gotten over this phase," I demanded, trying not to yell. Father shrugged, "your mother had no complaints." That was when I snapped. "That's because she's a spineless idiot in love with your psychotic ass!" I yelled. "That's because she still has some perfect image of you stuck in her head, making her delusional as you! You're both fucking mental!"

In three broad steps, I closed the gap between my father and I, and swung my fist into his face. "I'm sick and tired of this!" I roared. "Don't you know how I feel when I see you two like...like...this? Don't you think your own son wouldn't care about his own parents? I guess not, since you keep assaulting her, and she keeps taking it! DO I NOT MATTER TO YOU GUYS?" My father listened to me shout, with a cold expressionless mask, and a hand on his cheek. "How dare you hit your own father?" He hissed. I scoffed, "how dare you assault your own wife?" I contradicted. "How dare you not only hurt the woman you used to love, but also your only son? How dare you, Father? How dare you?"

His eyes were cold and icy. No emotion rose on his face, as he nodded at my pathetic excuse of a mother, on the floor, watching the whole thing with wide teary eyes. "Well, why don't you take the place for your poor mother?" I narrowed my eyes, "are you saying you'd stop hurting her if I became your new target?" A wide malicious smile rose on my father's lips. "That's the suggestion, yes."

My mother began screaming through her gag, shaking her head frantically. I considered her wondering if I was the person my father wanted to hurt, but my mother was taking all of the abuse for me. I sighed and shook my head. How could she be so stupid? I turned my head, and nodded at my father. "If you stop hurting her, then you can abuse me all you want. But, only for thirty minutes. You don't want your prized son failing his classes, and making you look incompetent." Father smirked, and nodded, raising his hand.

I glared at the man before me, with as much hate as I could muster. Standing before me was the devil in a human's body. I gripped his hand harshly, while shaking it. "It's a deal, son," he grinned widely. "How very noble of you.

Now, where shall we start?"

—

Later, in the confinements of my room, I dabbed at the long cut running down my chest, with alcohol. Hissing, when I accidentally cleaned the cut too roughly, I threw the stained cotton ball into the waste bin beside my desk, in contempt. Sighing, I walked into my bathroom to stare at my body, in the mirror. There was a long angry gash running down my sternum, with purple bruises littering my stomach and my chest. My legs were cut and angry with red marks that stopped at lower-thigh level. I couldn't see my back, but I could feel the multiple wounds that stung from the cold air that pressed against my skin. My face, arms, and lower legs were left untouched, so that no one would suspect the kind of messed up family I'm living with if I were to wear short sleeves or change in the school locker room.

With some difficulty, I pulled a black T-shirt over my head, and slipped into basketball shorts. I slowly, laid down in my bed, putting my arms at my sides to avoid touching the throbbing gashes on my stomach. There was a knock on my door, but I refrained from answering, hoping whoever it was, would get the message to leave me alone.

After a moment of blissful silence, my door creaked open to reveal my pitiful mother. She had her arms wrapped around her middle, in a protective manner, as she stepped inside the room. "Jungkook," she greeted me softly. I looked away, not knowing how to address her. "You don't have to say anything," she compromised. "I just want to let you know that I'm grateful that you decided to take this madness upon yourself. I won't tell you everything, but your father was very angry with me for not aborting you, when we learned that I was three months pregnant. He didn't want to raise a child, and after I refused, he began to develop abusive tendencies. At first he'd just throw things around when he wasn't in a good mood, but then it started getting worse and worse until I had to step in before he got the chance to get to you."

She let out a shuddering sigh, compelling me to sit up from my bed, and wrap her in my arms. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook, my darling," she mumbled. "If I'd seen that it would get this bad, I would've left your father a long time ago." I rubbed soothing circles into my mother's shoulder, hoping that it wasn't a spot that got injured. "You can still leave him now. File a divorce, Mother. It's not worth it anymore. If he still resists, we'll get the law into this." Mother looked up at me, hope shining in her dark, weary, eyes. "You think so?" I nodded, "definitely."

We need to breathe newer air.

—

Can someone remind me next time to make Taehyung the messed up character instead of Jungkook all of the time? Every. Single. One. Of. My. Fanfics have a messed up Jungkook who ends up having family problems. I need to switch things up a bit.

But, who's ready for Love Yourself Answer dropping this week?

-Author-nim