𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐍

jimin

in celebration of my two 100% scores in history, here's another imagine for you all

WORTHLESS

- in which jimin finds out that you live with an abusive father; trigger warning

Dread crawls up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as your hands begin to tremble. You clench them into tight fists by your sides, staring at the front door to your house as if it's the source of all evil.

And it very well could be for what's behind it is worse than anything that hell could possibly conjure up.

You heave in a deep breath of the icy air outside, ignoring the way it chills your insides and makes you crave the warmth of your blankets, your hands unclenching their fists to hesitantly wrap around the knob of the door.

Your mind screams at you to stop and run before you make a grave mistake, but you can't keep running from the things that keep you up at night.

Gently, you twist the knob and stick your head in from around the corner, your breath hitching in your throat as the vile scent of alcohol and sweat immediately sticks to your clothes and skin; making your nose scrunch up in distaste.

He's home.

The thought allows a bone chilling fear to rest upon your shoulders; your breathing getting heavier as you silently shut the door behind you and slip your shoes off, tucking your trembling hands into the worn out pockets of your jacket.

"Y/N, is that you?"

You flinch, your heart rate increasing as you pick up on the obvious slur in his question and the way each word holds an angry resentment to your being. Stifling a sob of fear, you don't say a word and continue to silently move throughout the house; knowing that if you get into your room, you'll be somewhat safe.

Just a few more steps.

"I asked you a question," you hear from behind you, your posture straightening as you freeze in the middle of the hallway, vision blurring with unshed tears. Soon enough, you feel a hand drop onto your shoulder, nails digging into your skin as the grip gets tighter, forcing you to turn in an attempt to rid yourself of it.

You manage to get him to release you, a small sounding whimper escaping from your throat before you even have the chance to stop it. The corners of his dry lips lift up into a smirk, the mouth of the bottle of rancid beer he holds pressing against them as he chuckles drunkenly.

"Look at you," he hums, grabbing onto a lock of your hair before you can move out of the way. "You think you're so important, huh?"

He tugs harshly on the lock, the action making you wince as the sting from him pulling at your scalp causes the hot tears building up in your eyes to cascade down onto your cheeks.

"You think you can ignore me? Your father?" He hisses, gritting his teeth together as he carelessly tosses his bottle to the floor, not even flinching when it crashes onto the hardwood floor and sends pieces of glass skidding across the hallway.

You, however, react to the sound, your eyes squeezing shut as he runs a cold hand down the side of your face with a menacing laugh.

"You'll regret what you did, princess," he warns, pinning you against the wall in one move, your breath suddenly ripped from your lungs painfully as a grunt falls from your lips at the sheer force of your back hitting the solid plaster behind you.

"Please," you beg in a breathless whisper, clawing at the arm that presses against your chest to hold you against the wall desperately. "I'm sorry."