Preface

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Everybody tells you to be thankful for what you have.

Jungkook is just thankful he isn't dead.


His father silently packed his bags, dropping them out the window before following after them. He slinked away into the dark leaving 10-year-old Jungkook and his drunk mother alone in the house. She woke with a jolt, stumbling into her son's bedroom. She grabbed a fistful of Jungkook's dark hair, yanking him from his slumber.

"Get up you worthless slut. Get to work." She stormed out, grabbing an amber bottle of beer.

"But it's only 3:00." He whispered, rubbing his scalp.

Five years later...

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