Mafia Love//Bts (Completed)

30

This room is so cold. I curl up into a ball to conserve my heat. The chains clink and rattle as I shift my position. I shiver, the chills starting at my feet and moving up my body. I close my eyes and try to fall back asleep. I don't know how long I had slept for before I woke up, but I still feel really exhausted.

A door bangs open above my head and a shaft of gold light splices the floors, landing on my face. I let out a small whimper and try to move away from the light and the person who has just opened the basement door.

Heavy footstep make their way down the stairs and towards me. I curl up even tighter in the ball in case kicks and punch's begin to rain down on my body. There is a pattern now to the abuse. The attacks comes in the morning when they have woken up and gotten ready. They then either drag me on the bed when someone is arriving or they just leave me on the floor. If I leave the bed before the end of the night, more attacks happen. Then before they go to sleep they drag me off to bed if I'm not off it already and throw me on to the ground. Food arrives in the morning and the middle of the day, just some bread and water.

The abuse begins as soon as the male who use to be my dad stands above me. I'm too numb though to feel the punch's and kicks. My body is just too use to the abuse to feel the pain. I just lay there on my side, curled up into a ball waiting until the blows have finished landing, wondering if I'll be left on the floor and dragged by my hair to the bed where I'll be tied down, praying I'll just be left on the floor.

A hand grips my hair tightly. I feel panic and try to struggle out of his grip but I'm too weak to do anything. I feel myself get thrown and I bounce on the bed. I try to get off the bed but I'm too slow. Cuffs quickly snap around my ankles and wrists, stretching me out. I struggle against my bonds, crying and whimpering softly.

I don't mind the hits but the sexual abuse is the worst. They are so rough and nasty. I feel so dirty even though I know I can't help it and none of this is my fault. A hand tightly grips my jaw, the nails and fingers digging into my flesh so hard. The male says something but I can't hear him. He lets go of my face and walks away. Someone else has appeared at the top of the stairs. They nod to each other the new person descends down the stairs, the male who kidnapped me disappearing through the door, closing it behind him. There are candles lit around the room so the new person can see where he is going.

He appears at the side of the bed and stares at me. He stripes his clothes off and climbs on top of me. I struggle even more against the binds, wanting free from all of this. Rough hands run all over my body and something presses against me. I turn my head to the side, tears running quickly out of my eyes and down my face into my ear and my hair. I pray that it quickly finishes and it does. He pulls out, finishes and get dressed, walks towards the stairs and disappears through the door.

All the emotions begin to boil up at that point, all the anger and sadness. A scream lets out through my lips, I can't hold it in anymore. The scream keeps going, my eyes closed, blackness everywhere.

"Min Young!"

I can't respond to my name, all I can do is scream.

"Min Young!"

I hear my name again and I feel my body being shaken. I open my eyes but I'm still screaming.

Green. That's the first thing I see. It looks like mint ice cream, my favourite. I don't know how long I've been screaming for but eventually it stops. I look around me and see that I'm in a hospital room. I feel tears falling again but not with sadness, anger or pain. This time its with relief. It was just a dream. I'm not back. I'm out.

Sobs leave my lips and the tears fall faster. My body begins to quack with the strength of my tears. Arms lift me up and wrap around me. I cling on needing the contact. I need to feel like someone is here with me and will protect me and keep me with them. I grip the shirt in my hands, my head laying on the hard chest, my tear soaking the fabric. A hand just strokes my hair and gently rubs my back. I feel my body being rocked and whispered words of comfort penetrate through the sobbing.

I don't know how long I had been like that but eventually my tears stop. My eyes dry up and so do the words. The arms stay around me though and cling on tightly still, scared that if I let go I'll be back where I was and this will just be a dream that I conjured up in my prison to escape from my torturous position.

I eventually retract myself from the warm body I'm holding on to and lay back against the pillow. I look at the person who held me. He stares at me with such pain and sadness. There also seems to be guilt and self-loathing within that gaze, as if he blames himself for what happened to me. He sits down in a chair which is next to the bed.

We don't say anything to each other. I can't talk. My throat and mouth feels dry and sore from the screaming and the sobbing. He just looks like he doesn't know what to say. And that how we stay, stares locking and not moving from the other. After how ever long, he stands up and mumbles something, heading to the door. At that point I know that I need to tell him something now before its too late, I need to open my mouth. I take a deep breathe and just let the words out.

"Yoongi. I love you."