As far as the drafts go, this was first written since Jul 2018 lol
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Gentle touch from those she holds dear seemed like a distant memory. Abused by the only living relative she knew, and by the man she thought would save her from the iron hands o...
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"Fuck..." I muttered to myself as I stood in front of the mirror while applying another coat of concealer on top of another layer on the side of my cheek near my lip that already turned purple. I thought color correctors could help. I tried to cover it up as much as I could before applying foundation and just hoped it would look natural. The cut on my lip has dried and it's something a lipstick can cover despite the bump of the dried blood from the wound.
I just hope people won't notice it tonight. I doubt makeup can cover it perfectly, but I at least made every attempt to hide it and hope no one would ask if they noticed.
I sighed aloud as I looked at myself in the mirror wearing a black dress underneath a black knitted cardigan.
"Looks decent enough..." I muttered to myself. But my eyes were once again taken by my cheek.
The concealer I applied didn't look natural on my cheek and it reminded me of my father's threat.
I realized; he did not beat me as much as he did in the past. He held back from hurting me because we were finally meeting that man. But the pain is still there to remind me of what he wants me to do.
Suddenly, a loud bang sounded from my door which made me jump in surprise.
It's my father.
I immediately look at my wristwatch only to see it's almost seven in the evening and we need to be at the restaurant by 7:30.
The ride to the restaurant was excruciatingly long.
I don't remember the last time I was beside my father inside the same car. We're both seated in the back seat with complete silence engulfing the whole car. OUr driver didn't play any music as he used to whenever he drove me to the Uni. My father didn't talk to me for the past couple of days which honestly uplifted my spirit even by a little. Not seeing him is already a blessing.
But what worries me now is that I haven't heard from Jungkook ever since I was locked in my room. I've tried to call him and sent a bunch of messages, but he never picked up and he never replied.
Did my father?...
When we arrived at a fancy restaurant, my mouth hung slightly open in awe of the place. There were lights neatly put on top of the greeneries. The architecture of the place seemed old Victorian with statues above the beam poles and huge glass windows. People were wearing fancy clothes. Valets were waiting for another customer to get out of their fancy cars. Waiters and valets also wear suits. I don't remember the last time I went to a place like this.
"We're late because of you." My father muttered, standing tall as he waited for me to walk beside him after getting out of the car.
"I'm sorry," I apologized and bowed my head down. I know he can't hurt me in a place like this with these fancy people but I wouldn't dare make a mistake tonight.
