Your eyes

Chapter 15

*warning- slight mentions of self harm, and verbal and physical abuse, please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable

Taehyung's POV

      It hurts.

      I had told Jimin that I was fine, but I lied. I'm not okay.

      I hadn't expected Jimin to hold me so roughly like that. His vice like grip pressed right into my wounds, and now I can't stop thinking about them. I can't stop thinking about how much it's hurting, the throbbing flesh telling me of its existence. I can't stop thinking about how... For a small moment of time, I liked it.   

      The thought makes my stomach sink in disappointment and I shake my head. I don't want to think about this. Not right now.

      Trying to dispel all thoughts of my throbbing arm, I try to think about the questions I have.

       Why?

       Why was Jimin so angry?

       What happened between them?

       Why is so Yoongi so nice to me?

       If what Jimin is telling me is true, then everything just becomes that much more confusing. Before Jimin and the others had seen us, Suga and I were having a pleasant, friendly conversation. He asked me how school was going for me, and he complimented me a bit... That's it. He didn't threaten me, he didn't bully me, he didn't do anything that I would've expected. Jimin's warnings don't make any sense to me.

         I wish he would just tell me what happened.

         I let out a heavy sigh and stare at my feet as I walk down the hallway. I can feel Jimin's protruding stare burn into my back, and I desperately try not to turn around and face him. I don't want to deal with any of this right now.

~~~

        The sidewalk leading to my house is cold and unforgiving, and I know that no matter how much I want to stop walking on it, I can't. I have to return home... I have to.

        I had parted ways with my other friends about a half hour ago at some park far away from my actual house. I don't want them to know where I live, so I lied to them. I've been doing a lot of that lately.

       Jungkook knows that I live with a rich family, but he doesn't know where. I'd prefer that it stays that way.

        The rich neighborhood that I live in is just as posh as it seems, but not nearly as fun. The houses are cold, the people are cold, life is cold. Honestly... it's tiring. I think I'd rather live anywhere else than this empty lonely mansion of a house.

        My body begins to shake slightly at the thought of entering, but I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Everything will be fine. Just breathe.

       I walk up to the front door and place my hand on the handle, it's cold metal surface chilling my hand. I can do this.

      My parents' cars were parked in the road, and that most likely means that they're home. Them being home means I won't have a good night. I never do anymore.

     I take another deep breath and push the door open. As usual, I am met with nothing but a silent, dark hallway. A slight worry of being seen begins to claw at my stomach, and I quickly close the door behind me. I need to go to my room.

     My room is my favorite place to be, it's my refuge. It's the only place I can truly relax and be myself, even if "being myself" consists of crying and distractions from the destructive thoughts in my mind.