Sterling

Chapter Five

Warning!

Violent scene/content below! If you're uncomfortable with that please skip this chapter!

If you're comfortable with that then please enjoy! 💜

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The car ride home was excruciatingly slow-Taehyung dreading the whole way home. It began to pour, thunder clapping around them loudly, lightning lighting up the sky in light purples or whites. Each clap of thunder scared Taehyung, causing him to jump in the backseat of Jimin's car. The older males in the front seats would eye him through the rear view mirror and their eyebrows would furrow.

He would catch the looks of concern coming from them, but he ignored each and every one of them until his home came into his line of sight. As soon as he saw the two story white house, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. His eyes widened in fear, breath hitching in the back of his throat, blood run cold, legs coming to a halt-stopping their annoying and irritating bounce, mouth opening a little bit-his whole demeanor changing from nervousness to fear.

The white two story house he's come to despise-the house he hated calling home. The house he wished he would never see again-rather seeing it go up in flames, blazing in the sky as smoke swirled in the air. He wanted to see it in that beautiful orange glow than see it still standing. He would rather see the whole neighborhood standing and gathering around it, trying to put it out and save it as fast as possible. He wanted to hear that commotion, and he wanted to see it as nothing but ash lying on the ground-no longer standing besides a few burnt to charcoal beams.

He didn't want to see it.

He didn't want to live in it.

He wanted his parents in that burning house, too. He didn't want them around anymore, and he definitely didn't want to live with them anymore. As selfish and as cruel as it may sound, he didn't care, because he was tired of his parents being able to get away with everything they've been doing to him.

He wanted that satisfaction once he seen how badly burnt it was, seeing all the ash on the ground while a few would float through the atmosphere around them, going through what he could save, even though there was absolutely nothing he would ever save from that house, because there were no good memories that came with it. He wouldn't save a single thing and he definitely wouldn't take it with him-or anything with him, such as clothes.

He would rather start all over and buy his own things instead of being reminded of the fact his parents were the one to buy the articles of clothing. He would rather get a job and spend the rest of his life working his ass off in order to make ends meet instead of saving anything that came from that house. He didn't care about the struggle, because he was already currently living through one.

He wanted to be able to come down this neighborhood five or ten years from now and no longer see that house set in the corner. He wanted to see the spot completely empty and bare, freshly grown and new grass growing where it once set instead of seeing another house there-an exact replica. He wanted to see absolutely nothing there and that would satisfy him to no end.

That house held nothing but horrible and haunting and traumatic memories that he wished he could burn away himself, just like he wanted the house to be. He wished his memories would just turn to ash and smoke, but that was something he couldn't physically do. It was something he had to live with for the rest of his life, and it was something he wasn't looking forward to.