Cutter || Vkook

*Preface*

(this story is pretty old, it's sad, cringey, and it moves too fast but i don't have the energy to fix it. I wrote this when I was eleven lmfao)

Giant front doors, long hallways, small rooms, people who pretend to care about you, these are the things that fill my senses as I walk into the small brick building on the corner of the street.
I've been forced to go to group counselling to break my habit of serious self harm issues. 
Walking into the first room on the left, I see a group of unfamiliar people sitting around the table. I sit down in the only empty seat after closing the door quietly behind me. 

"Hello, and welcome everyone to the first meeting, I'm sure we will all get to know each other well as we travel through this journey called life," the big guy at the front of the table began, "Let's start by getting to know each other. "

He started at the other side of the table, going around in a circle towards me. We had to tell our names, what we were struggling with, and a fun fact about ourselves.
It finally reached my turn.
"Hello, I'm Kim Taehyung. I'm a chronic cutter, and I like to express myself through art. Is that good enough?

"Yes Taehyung, that's good enough. Remember we are here for you."
He reached over to grab my hand, I pulled it out of the way. 

"Please do not touch me." 

I don't even know why I was mad. I didn't have any reason to be, except for the fact that I was sitting in group counselling against my will.

I stood up, bowing my head, and turning around. "Thank you for your time but I simply do not want to be here."
I begin walking towards the door as I feel someone grab the hood of my jacket. 

"I know you don't to be here Mr. Kim, but you really do not have a choice."

I stop walking and calmly state, "Get your fucking hands off me before I break every bone in your body." 
The man refuses to let go, so I turn around abruptly and throw my fist at his face. He falls to the ground, grabbing his nose in pain. I blankly stare at him and bow to the people at the table. "Farewell."

I exit the building and start to jog towards the train station, wind whistling in my ears. The streetlights shine brightly in the reflection from the puddles gathered on the ground. The rain is no longer falling heavily, it is now just a mist. The headlights from cars shine beacons of lights through the water, illuminating the mist-like texture of the rain. 
Once I reach the train station, I take a seat next to an elderly man holding a cane. 
Soon I will be eighteen and I will be able to make my own decisions. I have chosen a college and I have a part-time job at a local seafood market. I have no idea what major I should pursue, I don't know how long I have left on this Earth. I guess art would work since it is something I enjoy. 
The old man stands up, shifting his weight onto his cane as he begins to board the train that has pulled up in front of the bench. I take the opportunity to curl up on the bench and close my eyes for a nap.

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