Framed

Chapter 3: Hope Is Foresight

(In this world, let's just pretend there was no such thing as a housing crisis. Ok? I wish we could do that in real life too.)

(Present Day)

-Minho's POV-

I tuck my legs into my chest, rocking from side to side despite the tight walls restricting my movement. My nails dug deep into my arms as I hugged myself tightly, eyes squeezed shut to give my mind a break from the hallucinations I saw in the darkness.

My stomach growled painfully, and I muffle a whimper, trying my best not to annoy the man on the other side of the door. Despite my best attempts, quick and heavy footsteps made their way closer and closer, and dread began to knaw at my stomach.

I could hear my dad stop on the other side of the door, and it opened with an ear-splitting creak. My eyes jolt open on their own accord, and I wince as the bright light from the hallway flooded into the small closet. I stare intently at my father's legs, well aware that any less effort would lead to me looking into his eyes.

"Leave."

My brows furrow in confusion. That isn't my dad's voice, and it's way too early into the punishment for him to let me go. My curiosity won over my fear, and my eyes dart up to lock gazes with whoever spoke.

"Leave." Chan's voice seemed enraged, yet oddly empty. His eyes were blank, but the ugly snarl his lips were twisted into was enough to make me panic. 

I need to leave. But how do I do that when he's blocking the door?

"LEAVE." I scramble to my feet, refusing eye contact with him as I try my best to control my breathing.

"B-but you're blocking the door." My head is snapped to the right as pain envelopes the side of my face, and I stare dumbly down at the ground. He hit me?

"Pathetic. Pretending to love someone as awful as you is incredibly draining." My eyes water at the sound of my mother's voice.

"Leave." She hisses, and my two siblings quickly join her on either side. 

"Leave." They order in sync.

I feel something appear in my hand, and I smile down at the sharp blade. 

"Gladly," I mutter, voice empty as I test the knife's weight in my hand.

But wait. Who do I kill? Them? Or myself?

I jolt up suddenly as the sound of my alarm blared loudly in my ear, and I wince as I blindly reach out to turn off the annoying sound. My fingers find the off button and I press it, only to sigh in relief as my room was once again enveloped in silence. 

I stare up at the ceiling with a blank expression before finally gathering the energy to slide off of my bed, and I let myself flop lifelessly onto the floor before letting out a huff.

I'm too tired to deal with people. But unfortunately the bills don't pay themselves, the lazy fucks. Which means I have to work today if I plan on saving my little nest egg for emergencies. 

Mumbled curses spill from my lips as I stand and stretch my achy joints as my body moves for the first time in eight hours. I lazily make my way to the bathroom and go through my morning routine, and I sigh heavily as I look into the mirror.

My reflection looked dead. 

I had eye bags despite the eight hours of sleep I got, and my eyes were bloodshot and dull. Unfortunately I can't exactly put make up on my eyeballs, but I make sure to cover the bags with concealer. Once this was done, I pull on dance clothes before grabbing my bag and exiting the one-bedroom apartment.