Sanctuary

Chap 6: don't deserve it

Jungkook couldn't shake this uneasiness, anxiety he felt every minute that past. Jimin had been gone for seven hours, thirty four minutes and twelve seconds. Jungkook was counting, eyes wondering to his watch in desperation. No one he asked would tell him where he was, simply brush him off or ignore him completely.

His anxiety only grew, worsened with every minute that past. Jungkook struggled with abandonment issues, hated it when someone left him. So loosing Jimin even more than an hour was killing him. In the depths of his mind nightmares were claiming him, devouring his thoughts. He knew it was stupid, Jimin wasn't dead and he was going to come back but what hurt was he didn't know when or how he will be when he's back.

"Where is Jimin? I haven't seen him all day." Jungkook asked for the billionth time, fear clear in those dark eyes of his.

Jin sighs out of tiredness, he was aware Jungkook had been going around bombarding the stuff with this question. Driving them crazy with the constant mantra that seemed to be the only thing that slipped his lips. Where is Jimin?

"I've told you Jungkook, he is in isolation. His aggression and negativity was getting the better of him. He kept defying us, insulting us. This was the only way to get him to listen, realise the error of his ways." Jungkook stops himself from scoffing, finding their solution to Jimin's outspokenness stupid.

"You really think keeping him locked up, away from everyone will be good for him? How is that supposed to stop him being gay? Being homosexual isn't caused by being surrounded with other boys. This will do nothing but anger him or make things worse." He didn't know where this sudden courage came from to argue back, he's never stepped out of line in the two months he's been here.

"Enough Jungkook, I do not need your advice on how to do my job. You are here as a patient nothing more, now go to your room and get ready for bed it's almost curfew." Jin crossed his arms sternly, staring Jungkook down.

Jungkook huffs in defiance, not liking that his thoughts and opinions didn't matter. They pretend to listen to you here but they don't really. Just filter it out and talk to you like you never said anything. But he ultimately knew nothing he said or did would matter or make a whole lot of difference. They were set on turning you from gay to straight any way possible. Even if that meant hurting you psychically or mentally to do it.

So reluctantly he turns on his heels, stomping down the hallway. His stomach ached, he felt awful for letting them do this to Jimin. Felt like he failed him, he's supposed to protect him. He had to especially after everything he's been through. Jungkook didn't hate many people but Jimin's father was one of them. He despised the man, hated him for what he did to such a kindhearted boy like Jimin. Parents were supposed to look after their children, love them not beat and shower them with insults. Jimin didn't deserve that, didn't deserve any of it.

Though Jungkook didn't know what it felt like to have parents he certainly knew how they should act. He dreamt about having them his entire life, having a mother to hold him, kiss him. A father to read him bed time stories, teach him how to play catch. That's all he really wanted that and to be loved. It was probably a cliche-hell it definitely was a cliche but all he wanted even as a kid was for someone to love him.

———

Jimin's hands ached, stung from the brutal force he used banging on the permanently locked door. The silence, the emptiness of the box sized room was pushing him to his limit. The white light was searing, it never seeming to fade or dim. His throat was raw, the constant screaming did nothing but strain out his vocal cords and dry out his mouth.

"Let me out! Let me fucking out!" His pointed shoe slams against the door, his warm breath fogging the small peeping window.

It was pointless, no one came for him, no one listened to his pleas. The only time they came was to give him his breakfast and lunch which always ended up as a mush on the floor. He'd kick the food, throw the dish around the room in a fit of rage that resulted in him being tackled to the ground and forced feed. One guard would stuff his fat, chubby fingers into his mouth, prying it open while the other poured the brown glob down his throat. He'd gag, choke but they wouldn't stop until he had eaten every last drop, including what dropped on the floor.