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thirty seven help needed- 160408, busan
Hyerin woke up to an empty apartment to her relief. But that sudden joy of finally being away from Taehyung instantly faded once she sat up, the duvet falling from her body and exposing her bare figure.
She sighed, her eyes growing watery as she traced the hickeys that littered her inner thighs, and she felt completely disgusting once again.
She stood to her feet, feeling sick to her stomach, but she swallowed the bile that began to rise.
She ended up throwing up in the shower though, and crying and screaming and banging her already pounding head against the shower wall.
Her body was sore and she knew why but she pretended like she didn't. Her lips were covered in dried blood and her eyes were dull, her heart was numb and more hickeys covered the rest of her neck.
All she could do was sigh, and silently cry as she sat in front of her tv. A lit cigarette was held between her fingers, and tears already stained her freshly washed face. No shower would make her feel clean.
She hated him even more, and she hated herself even more.
The only person running through her mind was Jungkook, and how she did something with another when she loved someone else.
She felt as if she had cheated, and that single thought made tears cascade down her cheeks even faster.
She wanted it to end already, being with Taehyung made her feel as if she were already dead. He continued to control her like a puppet, and he was still the same. He treated her with zero respect, yelled, and there was even a newly created dent in the wall from when he punched through it.
Wonderful.
The doorbell went off, and Hyerin didn't even have a reaction.
She didn't even flinch at the dinging that echoed throughout her empty apartment. She didn't even turn a head or acknowledge the pounding on the door. She didn't want to get up, or move, or talk to whoever was at the front door.
Five minutes past and the knocking shushed. She would have felt relieved if she weren't numb. Her fingers traced patterns on her clothed thigh, humming a tune under her breath.
And when only one more minute passed, six minutes in total, her door creaked open, and that was what finally grasped her attention.
With a blank stare, she turned, not being able to see much due to her spot on the couch and that damned bookshelf near the door. If it was a murderer, she was dead, but that didn't seem all too bad in that moment.
