Sometimes, all we need is for someone to believe in us.
After a traumatic experience, Taehyung lost his will to live. He was a rebel, a troublemaker, a delinquent. He smokes, he skips classes, he gets into fights. He hated people. He always push eve...
This chapter includes some inappropriate/triggering events that may cause discomfort to some readers. Please proceed with caution.
**
"We destroy the things we fear; sometimes, some of us are afraid of love, afraid that it leaves us vulnerable, exposed and open, afraid that it may destroy us, and so we destroy instead." —Daniel Saint
**
THE SOUND of the flickering fluorescent tubes at the webbed ceiling of the place could be heard in the midst of the squeaking and thuds of kicks and punches around the area.
It is two o'clock in the afternoon, during this time of the day, there are only a few people who drop by. There are just ten other people in the abandoned parking lot which is located beneath the underground basement he usually goes to for brawls.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The parking lot is wide, enough to cater to the groups of thugs or criminals during peak night. Only veteran people know this part. The lot is usually for warming up and illegal trading. It doesn't have quarters but no one really cares if you decide to sleep in the dirty corners. This is where he has been staying for more than a week now.
Taehyung lunged and landed a strong punch on the punching bag. He jabbed another with his arm and kicked it after. He continued to hit it consecutively, each hit becoming harder. His mind is blank, his body insensate. He is just carelessly letting out what's eating him inside.
With a last rugged pummel, he stumbled backwards on his feet. Almost losing his balance.
For a week, he has been participating in back-to-back fights. At this point, it's not even for the money. He just wanted someone— something, to lash upon. Surely, it's taking its toll on his body.
He barely eats and sleeping is never really easy for him. His scratches and bruises don't have time to heal because he keeps on going against hoodlums to hoodlums.
If I die here, it's not suicide, right?
He moved backwards and combed his disheveled hair that is dripping with his sweat. He walked to the side and picked up the cold bottle of water on the ground. He opened it hastily and drink to quench his thirst. He took big gulps of water until he tasted blood on his lips.
He wiped the side of his mouth using his shoulders and spit on the dusty concrete ground. His peripheral vision caught a glimpse of his physique by the broken mirror on the wall near him.
Taehyung walked past the stand of the punching bag and headed for his reflection. He leaned his arm on the mirror, staring back at himself.
Piece of shit.
He glared at his own image, his hands balling into a fist as he gritted his teeth.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
