Unheard

•1•

Another tear rolled down the boy's cheek as another kick met his stomach. He kept quiet. He wasn't weak. He would never, never. Let his father think he was. After years of this he'd thought that it would be less painful...he was wrong. After years he'd thought it would stop....he was wrong. His hair was tugged as he was pulled to his feet. His eyes opening, tears stinging them. They were filled with hate as they looked at the man infront of them. His jaw set as he looked at the man, hatred and anger evident as their eyes met. The adult chuckled.

"Don't look at me like that, it's all your fault you brat, you brought this on yourself.' The older hissed at his child, pushing his head towards the kitchen counter. The younger was able to put his hand up before his face met the counter.

That was close.

The thought ran through his head quickly as his father kicked him to the ground again.

"Get up." And he did just that. He despised his father and wanted nothing more than to slam his head into a concrete wall, but he was far to weak to do so. He was slammed into the closet, hearing it slam shut and lock afterwards. He sat on the ground and cried silently again. All of this because he hadn't finished dinner quick enough. All he needed was five more minutes but his father got home a half an hour early. He pulled his knees to his chest not caring that it hurt when he breathed. The bruises on his skin most likely getting darker by the second. He put his head down on his knees and cried himself to sleep. It wasn't unusual. This happened all the time.

~

"Jungkook! Grab the rest of the boxes please?!" His mother yelled from the doorstep of their new house. Jungkook nodded and smiled at his tired mother, who smiled back at him and left the doorway to sit on their couch. He lifted a box out of the truck and sat it on the ground. He lifted the last one and sat it ontop of the other, picking up both boxes and walking inside. He shut the door with his foot and carried the boxes to their new kitchen. He sat them down and walked to his mother, heaving a heavy sigh as he plopped down on the couch. She rested her head on her son's shoulder while he smiled and rested his head ontop of hers.

"You excited for tomorrow?" His mother asked, tiredness clear in the woman's voice.

"Kind of, I'm glad they let me join the soccer team so late in the year." He sighed again thinking of his first day at his school. A high class private school, with alot of floors and glass walls.

"Well, Kook, time for bed. I'll see you in the morning hun." She pulled away from her son's shoulder and smiled at him, kissing his forehead before he got up and left to his unpacked, box filled, room. He fell asleep quickly, waiting for the sun to rise.

~

He woke up to his face hitting the carpeted floor.

"School's in thirty minutes, get up fag." His father spat at him. The boy nodded and left to his room. This room seemed foreign to him now, he barely slept in here. He pulled out grey joggers and a black T-shirt. He pulled out a white hoodie pulling it over his head along with T-shirt and left out the door, not saying goodbye to his father. Why would he. He hated him. He hated the way he kicked him. Slapped him. Let his friends do whatever they wanted with him. He hated how he couldn't escape him, how no matter how much he wanted to kill him, he would never be able to. He walked to school with his head down, holding the straps of his school bag firmly, praying and desperately hoping no one saw him. That no one payed him any notice. He stepped into the cafeteria, waiting for the bell to ring so all the students could go to their classes. He turned when someone sat next to him. A tall, built boy. Jet black hair, sharp jawline, full lips, doe eyes. He looked intimadating despite his soft features. The boy looked at him, to where he quickly averted his gaze. He heard the other chuckle.