Perpetual Rain ✓

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Weary feet tread against the wet pavement as you walked down the street, just a few blocks from home now. Your actions to get yourself back into your home town were less than legal. Having stumbled upon a Greyhound bus station not too far from the hotel you fled, you snuck your way on with the help of a woman who had far too many kids and an already annoyed bus-driver who stopped counting after three. Guess you could thank your average height that you passed as a teenage girl with your hood up and head down. Either way, it worked and you were finally away from that town, from him. 

You'd be walking from the town's center, much as you did the night you had met Taehyung in the first place. It wasn't a sizable walk, but your drained energy made it seem like miles. You were dragging your feet as your lifeless eyes stared at the ground, replaying what you had heard when you stood behind that painted white door in the hotel room. You still didn't understand a thing, completely clueless as to whatever sick game that he and his friend had been playing with you. You wanted answers, but at the same time, you couldn't stand to even ask him. You were much better off just figuring it out on your own. 

Though, you knew one thing for certain. Something was wrong with you, that was made crystal clear. At this point, you figured you had no other choice. You had to tell your parents what had been happening and throw yourself to the mercy of whatever psychological or medical testing they decided to put you through, even though the idea of spending countless hours locked away in cold white rooms with fake smiles terrified you. You could practically feel needle after needle piercing your skin while another man asks repetitively 'How does that make you feel?' as you'd sit in a somehow soft yet so uncomfortable psychiatric chair. 

It was either that or continue to lose sections of time. You couldn't even be sure how much time you had lost this month already. A week? Maybe two. 

Finally, your body sluggishly pulled to a stop as your vision caught sight of the tented up red mailbox that was stationed at the end of your driveway. You raised your head, letting your lashes flick away the droplets of rain as they drowned the exterior of your body in their constant downpour. 

Your car was in the driveway, though Father's was missing. Maybe he was still at work. Well, at least you could guess your mother was likely home, and though you felt a heavy pit in the core of your stomach that was turning at the idea of having to tell either of them all this, you started forward. 

The floorboards of the porch cried under your weight as you headed for the door, the legion rain ceasing as you dipped under the cover of the awning. You were still clad in that silk dark blue shirt Taehyung had given you, as well as the coat you had stolen just before your escape. All of which were now plastered against your body like ink on paper, making you look like a drowned rat. 

You reached for the handle and gave it a twist, thankful that it was still unlocked given you didn't have your keys nor a single thing to your name in that moment. The door pushed open and you stepped through the threshold, greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and the warmth of the heated air as it blew against your chilled skin. 

For what it was worth, you took your soaked black trench coat off and hung it up on the hook by the door, though you still dripped water as you began to head into the house in search of your parents. You could hear the faint sounds of the T.V. in the living room, a local weather report about the continuous storm that showed no signs of stopping. 

Rounding the corner, you popped your head through the archway to see who it was that was in the living room. The lamp was off, only the dim light of the T.V. illuminated the room and you could see your father's short, dirty-blonde locks of hair just above the couches back rim. 

"Dad?" You called out softly, keeping your voice low. You hadn't spoken to him since that fight, that you were now aware was almost a month ago. So, you kept cautious. You had never given him the silent treatment that long before, though this time it might not have been by choice. 

He didn't answer, he didn't even move. Perhaps he had fallen asleep on the sofa again. You inched a little closer, noticing light glistening off something on the end table beside the couch. You became more aware of the stench, the thick scent of liquor, rum to be exact. 

You noticed the empty, tipped over bottle sitting on the little corner stand beside the couch. Empty glasses were scattered about, some still containing ice as it slowly melted from the heat. Had he been drinking? 

"Dad." You called out, this time raising your voice a bit louder as you neared his sunken frame. Inwardly, you were surprised. Had stress really driven him to drink? He wasn't a 'dry' man but he normally only had a glass of whiskey here and there, mostly on special occasions. You would see the same bottle of drink in the cabinet for a year straight, sometimes two. But here he was now with a bottomed out bottle and seemingly passed out drunk on the couch, and he still wouldn't answer. 

"Dad!" You yelled this time, your voice rattling over the volume of the T.V. Reaching forward to grab a hold of his shoulder, you gave it a firm shake in attempts to wake him from his drunken haze. 

Quickly, he sat up with a gasp. Almost as if he had been brought back to life, his eyes rounded in shock. He stared forward, looking at the T.V for a minute before letting his eyes wander in search of something. 

"God, how much have you had to drink?" You questioned, tilting your head to the side as you still tried to gather his attention. 

But his eyes never met yours. He never even looked your way, but his eyes did fall onto his shoulder where you had touched him. You rolled your eyes, he was blitzed off his ass. Turning, you rounded the couch and moved between it and the coffee table, choosing to sit on the glass rim of the table as you planted yourself in front of him, just off to the side. 

"Dad." You said one more time, raising your hand you snapped your fingers in front of his face. It was something he used to do to you as a child to get your attention when it would wander. "Seriously, how drunk are you? Where's Mom?" You asked with an exasperated sigh. 

Though, despite you sitting right in front of him, he still didn't look at you. Your brows frowned, narrowing your eyes as you stared at his tired expression. Though he was just asleep, he looked as though he hadn't actually rested in days. Dark circles hung under his eyes so deeply that the hard lines of his face did little to stop the drooping. His pale blue eyes seemed lifeless, staring ahead, looking straight through you. He wobbled, struggling to even keep himself upright with the level of toxic liquid that coursed through his veins. 

"Dad!" You yelled one more time, the volume of your voice this time around rising far beyond that of the T.V. and booming off the walls with a sizable force. But... nothing. You began to feel worry creep into your bones like ice, crawling through your muscles as you watched the old man before you, who now looked double his actual age, not acknowledging you in the slightest. 

"Mom!" You screamed, jumping up from your seat and quickly darting out of the living room in search of her. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. You raced down the hall, using the corner of the wall to slingshot yourself in the direction of her room as you nearly slipped on the carpet in your speed. 

You reached her bedroom door and pressed your body against its frame as you ripped it open with force. "Mom, something is wrong with Dad, ple--" Your words cut off, hearing sobbing coming from within the pitch black room. 

"Mom..." You whispered, slowly approaching the bed as you felt your heart sink closer to your feet. You neared the bed, just as cautious as you approached your father, reaching out your hand as your eyes tried to adjust to the light. All you could see was her curled form sitting atop the bed, hugging her knees close to her chest and her head resting on top of her knees, hiding her face away. 

"What's wrong, Mom? Talk to me..." You whispered as you reached the side of her bed, the tips of your fingers gently brushing against her shoulder. You could feel the coarse cotton of her yellow nightgown against the tips of your fingers. 

You tried to slip your arm around her, to wrap yourself around her and pull her into a hug in attempts to comfort her, as you should had done that night she ran away crying in the kitchen. Your palm barely met her body before she shot her head up and wailed in pain, her chin pointed to the ceiling as she cried to the heavens themselves.