Runaway (KTH & JJK) **EDITING**

Chapter Six ✔

| TAEHYUNG |

Taehyung was carried through a small corridor before he was taken into a new room, this room consisting of a bunch of technology that was to help the doctor get a good look at his arm.

He was gently placed down on a chair beside this metal bed, his arm being gently placed on it.

A small hiss of pain left his lips when it was lifted, a throbbing pain shooting all the way through his arm.

"Sorry," Jackson smiled sympathetically at him "It'll be all over soon."

All he could do was nod his head as tears formed in his eyes.

Yoongi pulled this thing down that he'd never seen before, hovering it above his arm before he walked over to where some computers sat.

"I'm going to start the x-ray now, when I ask you can you gently try and move your arm to the side so that I can take another one and then we'll be done with your arm," the doctor said "Then I'm going to need you to get up onto the bed and roll your top up so that I can get an x-ray of your ribs."

Taehyung just nodded his head, looking away from his arm not wanting to look at it.

The x-ray didn't take long; it only took about 5 minutes before he was climbing onto the bed with the help of Jackson, rolling his top up.

This one took another 5 minutes as well, once it was done he was being carried out of the room and back down to the room he was in before.

He was gently placed down on the bed again, his free hand holding his arm close to his chest.

Jackson stayed by his side though the whole thing, which was kind of nice but he still didn't trust this man at all.

Yoongi walked through the door about half an hour later; he was holding two x-ray sheets with a small sympathetic smile.

"So, I've gone over your x-rays and you've got a bad break on your wrist and a broken elbow, I'm going to need to wrap your whole arm in a bandage before I'm going to plaster your arm up so that we can keep your arm safe from more harm," he said "I'll like you back in two weeks so I can look at your arm again, but the healing process will take up to six to eight weeks."

All Taehyung could do was nod his head, he didn't exactly know what to say.

"And for the x-ray on your ribs, I've taken a close look at the x-ray and from what I've seen on your body, you've got bad bruising on both the left and right side along with two broken ribs," Taehyung again nodded "I'll also wrap you up there as well, but I really would like to know how you have gotten them."

The young boy just shook his head; he doesn't want to tell anyone how he had gotten them, especially people he doesn't even know and could potentially hurt him if they wanted to do so.

Yoongi just sighed; nodding his head before setting down the x-rays "Jackson, can you go get my stuff?" Jackson nodded his head with a smile, leaving the room to go grab whatever the doctor was talking about.

Once Jackson left the room, Yoongi sat down beside the bed flashing the younger a small sympathetic smile "I'm sorry you ended up in this situation."

Taehyung looked at the man, his lip caught between his teeth as he sniffled "W-Why me?"

"What do you mean?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"W-Why didn't he just k-kill me like the others?" He stuttered out.

He really didn't want to be here, he'd rather be dead then in a place with dangerous people around him.

His life has already consisted of abuse from his own flesh and blood; he doesn't want it from other people.

He ran away from that life to try and start something new even though he had nothing, but he only ended up in a place where the same thing could happen all over again but instead of it being his father it was going to be from other people.

"I honestly don't know," he frowned "He normally would but I guess you're just special."

"I don't want to be special," he whispered.

Yoongi nodded his head "Let me give you a little bit of advice, try your hardest not to piss the guy off okay? It'll only be bad on your behalf."

Obviously he'd try and not piss off the terrifying man, but what if he asked something from him that he didn't have or want to give? Would he have to give it to him anyway?

The answer is no, he wouldn't do anything that man asks of him. He's tired of being someone's punch bag and now potentially someone's play thing. He's the one who has taken him.

He didn't give anything for his father either, which was why his beatings always ended up harsher than some.

Taehyung wasn't the type to give into others, he may be a small, weak and pathetic boy but he wouldn't dare give into others.

But he wasn't that weak or pathetic.

He only has his voice to stick up for himself, he wouldn't dare lay a finger on someone else, he's not that type of person.

Violence wasn't his thing, people could get violent with him but he would never retaliate because he doesn't have a harmful bone in his body.

This is what makes him weak; this is what makes him pathetic.

With a small nod of his head, he went to say something only for him to be cut off by Jackson walking back into the room with a bunch of material.

"Thank you," Yoongi said, getting up from his place on the chair before getting straight to work with bandaging and plastering up Taehyungs broken arm.

Altogether it took him about half an hour to get the young boy all bandaged up, his arm now in a cast and his chest in a big white bandage.

Once he was done, Jackson thanked him before he picked Taehyung up once more and carried him out of the room and over to a staircase.

He walked up at least two flights on stairs before he was walking down a corridor, coming to a stop in front of a door.

"This'll be your room from now on," he says as he opens the door "There is a bathroom in there so you can freshen up and there are some fresh clothes on the bed, enjoy your stay."

And with that, he was pushed into the room the door shutting behind him before a lock was being turned.

This wasn't a room to him; this was a jail cell just like his old bedroom.

He moved from one prison to another.

Why does his life have to be like this?

This was a question he couldn't answer; this was a question no one could answer.

He hated it.

He hated his life.

And he hated himself.

He was weak, pathetic and a waste of space.

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