Lush... |BTS OT7 x Y/N| F.F | 18+

10 - Beep~ Beep~

You wake up to the sound of keys falling on tiles, the morning light barley coming through the curtains.

It's morning... Death didn't come.

You've been in the same spot Hwan left you in, on the carpet in the lounge, too scared and writhed in pain, to move a muscle and you can feel the stiffness of you body when you lift your head to the direction you heard the keys fall. You don't see anything but you can hear footsteps dragging in the kitchen. You close your eyes hoping that he wouldn't come back and finish what he started.

You finch when you notice the footsteps coming closer squeezing your eyes shut, hoping to anyone or anything that might be listening, that he thinks you're still sleeping and leaves you be but, Murphy's a dick.

"I know you're awake, sweet." Hwan's voice is monotone. "Get up and get ready for work, dear. I know you will be greatly missed if you miss one day."

He gets down to his knee next to your ridged form and you feel him wipe the stray hairs from your face before he chuckles once. "You've made such a mess last night. I truly hope it will be cleaned up before I get home today."

You can't react to anything, you're frozen in fear but you can feel the tremors running up and down your spine. Hwan thankfully gets up without saying anything further and heads for the connecting garage door, leaving you in your spot.

You don't know how much time has passed before you attempt to get up, sucking air through your clenched teeth when your leg stings anew. You muster up enough courage to look at the result of your husband's assault and weep at the shear sight of it.

He carved a letter 'H' in the flesh of your upper thigh, deep enough that the wound blossoms out from the swelling. There is dried blood all over your leg and a small pool on the cream carpet the sight making you nauseous. Looking away you try and see if there is something that you could use to cover your leg. The small movement causes pain to rip through you, it being enough to make you cry out and heave drily.

Come on, Y/N, you can get up... You encourage yourself.

Sucking in a deep breath, hoping your air filled lungs would somehow make you lighter, you scoot to the edge of the couch and with wobbly arms pull yourself up from the floor. The action pulling at your open wounds and causing it to bleed anew. With shaky hands you lightly touch the edges of the 'H' getting your fingers stained with your own blood in the process. You heave again causing your stomach to contract painfully as a result of it being bare of any content. 

You've never had an issue with the site of blood or wounds, if you were completely honest, it fascinated you in some way. Not in the way it did Jeffrey Dahmer, of course, but it never bothered you before today.

With great effort you lift yourself into a standing position after your abdomen realized there's nothing to spew, and head for the kitchen to get a dish cloth. Every step is excruciating. You being a girl with some extra meat on her bones, every step makes a ripple affect up your leg causing a few whimpers to escape your lips with every advance.

It takes you longer than usual to reach the kitchen wash room, where you grab a clean dish cloth and place it gently against your now bleeding wound. Once you see the blood has stopped you dump the bloody rag in the basin and take another to wrap it around your thigh. You then make your way to the kitchen island to get your phone to see what the time was.

5:26 a.m.

It's really early and you sigh in relief knowing that you'd only be expected at BigHit at 9. Placing your phone back in your handbag you take a deep breath and make your way to the staircase.