Black and Blue | ym.

1| Pathetic

Earsplitting, the crash of a door slamming echoed, magnifying the noise. Jimin jumped.

He stood in the middle of what was occasionally used as a dance floor. Without people or music, it was just an empty room in the front of the house. The front door was the one that slammed, a burly man stood glaring at him. His eyes were aflame with fire, burning on alcohol.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Mr. Park grabbed his son by his hair, a merciless grip. With a yank, he forced the boy to meet his eye. "Answer me!"

"I was at the store," Jimin answered, voice quiet, shaking.

"The fucking store!" The man repeated in mock disbelief.  "With who, boy? Your little diner friends? Huh?"

"No, sir."

"With who?!"

"I was alone, sir."

Mr. Park let go of Jimin's hair, effectively throwing him off balance. He stumbled, remaining upright, barely.

"You better not be lying to me, Jimin," He growled. Jimin kept his eyes on his own shoes. "What did you buy then?"

Jimin hesitated. But his father was not a patient person. To what Jimin figured was his better judgment, he lifted the bag in his hand, which was previously concealed behind his back. Mr. Park snatched it away, nearly ripping the thin plastic.

"More of this shit? Seriously?" The man lifted a handful of soft, fuzzy cotton. Three sweaters, all pastel. One blue, one pink, one yellow. "Prick! How the fuck did I end up with such a disappointment of a son?" The man threw the bag to the side. It slid, hitting the wall at the edge of the room.

Jimin eyed it sadly. Sweaters were his favorite thing. They were soft, warm, bright. Which were all the same reasons Mr. Park saw them as girly- unfit for his ideal of a son.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"The fuck you are. Not sorry enough to make up for your existence." He coughed, hacking spit and phlegm onto the floor near Jimin's feet. Jimin stepped backward.

Mistake.

Mr. Park lunged forward, throwing Jimin to the ground. The boy let out a cry as his back hit the hardwood floor. A knee landed on his chest and a hand gripped his pink hair again, pinning him in both places.

"Trying to get away from me? Huh, Jimin? Pathetic. The only reason I don't beat the living shit out of you right now is that I'm having a party tonight and I don't have the time to clean up your blood. Do you understand, boy?"

"Y-yes, sir." Jimin held eye-contact, though it made his own eyes burn with liquid fear.

"Good. Now go to your room and don't fucking come out again."

Once released, Jimin scrambled away. He grabbed his bag of sweaters and ran upstairs, toes hitting some steps, stumbling, but not stopping. He closed his door quickly, but not quick enough to block out his father's last two cents.

"Pathetic."

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Hey guys. This is just a little warning that the same type of abuse viewed in this chapter will be seen throughout the rest of the book, and may get worse than what was viewed here. Again, if topics of abuse trigger you, this book isn't for you.

–Consplody xx