"You left that bruise on her wrist didn't you?" Jungkook spits his words in Jimin's face.
"No. I'm not letting you run away again!" I rush up to her and grab at her wrist.
"I don't know all of the things that he told you, Ara. But I can tell you on...
A/N: Wow two chapters in a week! I'm on fire lmao. Sadly His Flower is soon coming to an end and I can't express my love for every single one of you cinnamon buns! Thanks to you we were able to hit 1.2k reads on my first real story! And I honestly wouldn't have survived this if it wasn't for my amazing friend, Laverna.
The quicker I walk home, the faster the rain pours from the dark, lonely sky. Puddles scatter the city's streets and hold the tears of the above that are a mystery to us down below. As usual, junkies gather around the alleyways near the apartment complex and as I approach the building, I hold my bag close to my chest, and dash up the slick stairs.
I stumble a few times, the drinks from the party have started to take their tiny toll on my eyes and perception of the world around me. But I stand tall and continue my ascent to the next floor. Just the thought of fuzzy pajamas and a warm, cozy bed is enough to keep me going.
My keys jingle as I take them out of my soaked pocket, and easily slide them into the golden door knob, turning every so slightly to make the least amount of noise. When I open the door, I can't see a single thing. The whole apartment is pitch black. I turn my body to close the door and flip the switch to turn on the kitchen lights.
When I go to set my bag down on the counter, I jump. A few steps ahead of me stands my mother in her bathrobe with her hair pull in a tight, slick ponytail. Her face wears a cold expression. Her eyes are narrow and thin dry lips are drawn back in thin line. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes and stand up straight when she starts to speak.
"Where were you?" She snaps, looking over my body tight dress. I can see her nose wrinkle, and then her eyes widen. "Have you been, drinking?" Her house slippers slap the tile floor beneath them in a march towards me. Like a hawk her eyes become sharp and aware.
"M-Mom I can explain-" I say, stepping back from her. She's usually never a violent person, but she tends to get in these "moods" sometimes. And I just have to let it run it's course. But, the closer she gets, the more my hands shake, heart beats faster, and my breathing quickens.
"You better have a good damn reason why mydaughter was out drinking till twelve in the morning!" She stretches her neck out and her faces reddens as her words boom through the small apartment. I take a quick glance at her hands and see them clenched into tight fist, ready to punch.
Before I could get a word out, in a flash she reaches for an empty bottle of wine on the kitchen table and raises it high above her head. Only for it to come crashing down and collide with my shaking body.
"Here! There's probably a few sips left in there! Finish it for me!" Every piece of wine stained glass pierces my delicate skin. Every piece digging, further and further not to be forgotten. Only half of the bottle broke with the first strike, leaving mom determined to continue her assault. Drilling her words in. Literally.
I bring my arms up to shield my head, but her free hand latches onto my wrist and tears it away, forcing me to be met with the bottle face to face.
"M-Mom! S-Stop!" I scream, turning my pounding head to the side.
In an attempt to flee, I kick my legs in hope to hit something, anything. But the blows just keep coming, and when she finished with the first bottle, another wasn't to far behind. Finally, I feel my heel come in contact with something. I didn't care what, but it caused my mom to stumble and grab at her leg, cursing under her breath, giving me a chance to run.
My feet rush to the bathroom where I lock the door, falling onto the cold tile. And for a few seconds the apartment is completely silent.
My head feels light, so I reach up to check if I had a fever, not thinking about the trauma that had been inflicted. I wince at the contact and bring my hand down, only to find it covered in thick red blood. I try to catch my breath, but it wasn't long till my mother was right behind me.
"No daughter of mine is coming home drunk! Get out here!" It reminds me of an evil aunt that had to take care of her nieces and nephews for a weekend, and they finally pushed her buttons the right way. Or should I say, the wrong way. I use my hands and feet to push myself across the floor, further and further away from the door. I shake my head in denial that its really my mother.
"Kim Ara, get your ass out here! Or I'm coming in!" Loud attacks are heard from the door as she tries to break it down. I wince at the noise and draw my legs further into my chest.
Everything hurts. My head, my arms, my legs, my heart. Everything.
Jimin.
I rummage through my bag like a crazy person trying to find my phone. I feel the cold metal case and snatch it out, dialing it as soon as I unlock it.
"Come on, Jimin. P-Pick up the p-phone..." I mumble to myself, rocking back and forth like a child on the floor of my bathroom, surrounded by puddles of my own blood. In between the rings, all I can hear is the pounding of my mother's hands on the door. Getting closer and closer.
"Oh come on, pick-"
"Hello?" Jimin answers casually, unaware of the situation.
"J-J-Jimin, p-please she's trying t-to g-g-get me-MOM-!" I drop my phone when I look up and see my mother holding the wine bottle, standing in front of a broken the door. She stomps over, grabbing my hair, pulling me off of the floor. I scream and kick, doing anything to keep her off.
"I knew I should of left you in Seoul. All you do, little Ara, is get in trouble!" Her hand slaps me hard. Sending me flying back to the ground, and hitting my arm on the side of the toilet.
I shrivel up. Unable to fight back any longer. The cold floor is welcoming and seems like the only thing that truly accepts me in this dark and cruel place. I stare at the blood around me, breathing in and out.
"You should have died with your father." In between each word, a kick was received to my ribs. After the third one I could feel them breaking. Shattering into a million pieces just like my mom wished. It's as if I could feel the pressure of her foot, but I was numb to the pain. That's what I've been all along though right? Numb to the people around me. Numb to my own self worth and preservation. Numb to anything resembling love.
"You."
Kick
"Are."
Kick.
"Nothing!"
But I didn't feel a third kick after. The world around me slowly begins to turn fuzzy. Then a little grey. But, before it started to turn black, I felt my body being lifted from the cold floor, and I heard someone whisper in my ear,
"It's okay. I'm right here."
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