MRS. JEON {BTS Fanfic}

F O U R

Y/N's POV

I feel lost to my senses and that's a pretty weird place to be in. It's like all of the outward parts of myself have gone blank and all that's left are my raw feelings. Everything is heightened, magnified to the point where it hurts.

Touch to the point of a sizzling pop between my fingers.

Hearing to the point of echoey, far-away reverb around me.

Sight to the point of a slow-motion drag between each picture change.

Smell to the point of a mind-numbing headache.

I can feel the slight breeze of the air conditioning blowing my hair around and engulfing my skin with tiny goosebumps. I can hear the loud incoherent voices of the people around me. I can see the light shining around me, coming from open windows, a single lightbulb above me, and one lamp on the far side of the room. And I can smell the hint of smoke coming from the generator that has been fueling the electrocutions that course through my body every few minutes, each one worse than the last.

Sweat is dripping down my body, sticking my clothes to my hot skin. I feel like my muscles are absolute jelly from tensing up and relaxing over and over. My body is exhausted, but my senses are working on overdrive, the adrenaline keeping me awake.

I look up at my father who is crossing his arms in front of his body, a firm dissatisfied look plastered to his face. However, he doesn't look angry anymore. He looks very deep in thought.

"Let's take a different approach, shall we?" He finally speaks, after multiple minutes of just watching me suffer.

I gulp down as much saliva as my mouth can produce right now as to make sure my throat isn't too dry to speak and I answer. "You're not going to get anywhere," I take a breath, "if you don't explain to me what exactly you want from me. You're trying," another breath, "to torture answers out of me when I don't know what you're asking."

He simply blinks. "Sit up when we're talking."

I hesitate. "I can't." I whisper.

My body is slumped down over itself to the point where I can't even look him directly in the eye.

"Sit up." He emphasizes each word slowly.

I bite my lip, slowly willing my muscles back to working condition. It doesn't work to say the least. I wince as my ab muscles ache and pinch together painfully, trying to pull me in an upright sitting position, but to no avail.

I sigh, slumping back down. If I had more tears to give, I'd be crying right now from the pain, but I just lie there, my throat constricting as I cry with dry eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, keeping my voice as stable as possible.

He doesn't answer for several moments.

"If you want to kill me, just do it," I suddenly feel myself saying. "I don't have any answers for you and you obviously find joy in my suffering anyway."

Footsteps on the ground and the hovering shadow over me tell me that he is walking towards me. He kneels down to my level and grips my chin tightly between his thumb and index finger, jerking my eyes up to look at him. I hiss slightly at the sudden movement.

"If you weren't so..." he trails off, gesturing at me.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much," I mumble, feeling my self-worth withering away in his presence.

"It was meant to be this way between us from the start," he replies, dropping my chin and standing back up. "I could never be the dad you desire nor the father you needed. Your mother made sure of that." He spits the last sentence out with hate.