Sterling

Chapter Six

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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Just when he thought he was going to pass out, he was suddenly thrown to the floor, his side colliding with the hardwood floor beneath him. He rolled over onto his back, gasping for air as he screwed his eyes shut, jaw clenched as his whole body throbbed in pain. An intense headache was forming already, and he was starting to become nauseous.

He tried sitting up but every time he did, a blinding shape pain shot through his back and down his side, causing him to wince and bear his teeth continuously. He knew the beatings today were going to be worse than what they normally were-he just had that feeling as soon as he entered the house, and it sent shiver after shiver to run down his spine as he dreaded the moment he stepped foot through that front door.

When he felt like he was finally able to breathe normally again-no wheezing and no gasping for air-he felt a swift kick to his side, knocking it all right out of him once again. This time, he didn't hold back the groan that escaped his lips as he rolled over onto his other side-as if it were going to protect himself in some way, but it never did.

There was another kick, but this time to his back, knocking more air out of his lungs if it were even physically possible. The kicks hurt worse since his father had his working boots on-the ones he wore outside when he was working on the car or when he was working at his shop fixing vehicles of all kinds. They were steel-toe, making each kick hurt worse than the last, knots forming under his skin as a bruise formed around it-painting his skin in all kinds of blacks, blues, and purples.

With each kick, a groan, a whimper, a whine, a hiss, a sharp inhale through his teeth, or a scream of agony left his lips, echoing through the house, and with each noise that came out of him, he silently wished someone would finally hear his cries and come and help him. He didn't care at the moment of the consequences that would come after if someone did hear him and the beating going on. He just wanted it all to stop.

Off to the side, his mother just watched the beating and violent scene play out right in front of the front door to their house, her arms crossed over her chest with an expressionless face, unamused by what was going on. Taehyung knew as soon as his father was done with him, his mother would want a turn-would want her chance to ruin him as if his father didn't do enough or a good enough job-as if she wanted it done a certain way.

That's how it usually worked; they would take turns.

"Where are my goddamn cigarettes?!" His father wailed, looking over at the woman standing in the doorway to the living room. Taehyung took this chance to look up from where was lying on the floor, seeing and watching as his mother walked away, entering the living room where his father's pack of cigarettes were, soon coming back with the white pack in her hand, handing them to her husband without hesitation.

He watched his father take one out of the pack, sticking the tip between his lips before he fished a lighter out of his chest pocket. Taehyung's eyes widened when he realized what was just about to happen, and it made a small whimper to escape his throat as he tried moving again, but as soon as he lifted his weight off the floor, his father kicked him back down to the ground, a small thud heard from the impact.