𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝑲.𝑻𝒉, 𝑲.𝑱𝒔

20|𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞

I woke up grunting at the ache in my head, my legs have gone numb, my hands are suddenly itchy then everything got more and more bothersome.

My eyes flew open and my memory went back to yesterday's events. The party, the humiliation, the competition, the fights, the conversation, the ciggerate and....the burns. I instantly pull away the covers and look at my hands. Nothing

It was a dream?

Shows how fucked up my drunk state was, I'm in my room, nothing looks out of ordinary but my headache. I crack my neck and look at the clock, it still isn't that late.

I sigh, moving off the bed and walking into the closet to get my clothes, i grab a hoodie and track pants to go with the day and enter the washroom to bath.

I take off my clothes, throw them off in washer and take a look at myself in mirror. That was a bad idea, should'nt have done it until i was all cleaned up.

I rub my hand across my face and yawn again, my gaze catches something on the mirror. I put my hand down and turn on my side to look on my forearm.

The burnt mark!

A visible gasp leaves my lips, eyes widening, i still try to process my witness of coming across such an ugly mark. So it wasn't a dream afterall, huh?

I clench my hands, heat arsies in me and blood boils with anger. He actually had the balls to do that? I was starting to think he is all bark no bite, so he stood on his word of hurting me. Very well, that's what I needed.

And now i know what to do.

I take a deep breathe and walk into the shower to freshen up, it takes twenty minutes for me to get ready, i put burnol on my scar and it stings so bad, i almost go all crazy inside bathroom.

A shaky breath leaves my lips, my legs unsteady, i almost fall but catch onto the counter supporting my hands, i bend and look up in the mirror again, he's definitely going to pay for this.

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I munch on my sandwich, the headache still there, it just got brutal but that doesn't bother me. I work on thinking on how to make him pay for the shit he'd done to me.

A ciggerate is a pretty interesting concept he came up with. I pick up the glass of orange juice and take a sip.

I hear footsteps coming downstairs, i expect it to be Jimin, when i see the blonde bitch walking down with a dress shorter than her life span is going to be. I like the dress, I'm not into slut shaming, the dress is bomb, the one wearing it isn't.

She looks at me, up and down "I thought you were bad with many things but hoped your fashion sense was better. So sad, I'm disappointed." She fakes sympathy and picks out a glass from cabinet.

"Couldn't say the same to someone who doesn't wear clothes much." I take another sip from my juice "If that's what you call fashion sense, you should get your eyes checked, make sure to check if there's even a piece of clothing left on you to call it fashion in first place." I'm a hypocrite, sure. I said i wouldn't say anything about slut shaming, but i did.

I could be a serial killer if that's what takes me to get my pride back from my enemy, so being a hypocrite for seconds means nothing to me.