Jimin's dad arrived home late that night, around ten o'clock or so. His parents' hushed whispers gradually became louder until all regard for the neighbours had vanished and their fight intensified. Jimin rolled over in his bed to face the door as he listened to his parents' hateful words.
"Oh, go bother your son!"
"He's your son too!"
"The fucking faggot is no son of mine, you dizzy bitch!"
His father's words were menacing but not unfamiliar. When the glass shattered downstairs, Jimin didn't even flinch. His breathing picked up when he heard those angry footsteps approach his bedroom though. Jimin found his hands tightening around his thin bedsheets until his door was violently forced open. In came his dad, livid and seemingly shaking with rage.
"Look what you've done, you little shit,"
Blood was trailing down his father's defined face, leaking from an open wound on this right of his forehead. Jimin began to shrink backwards in fear; his father lunged forward. A cry involuntarily escaped from Jimin's lips when his father's rough hand grabbed the soft blond locks on his head.
"Little fucking puff,"
His father's growl frightened Jimin. The tears pouring from his eyes blurred his vision to the point where his dad could no longer be seen clearly. Jimin still felt everything though. The stinging sensations on his face, arms, legs, back - everywhere - became unbearable.
Jimin began drifting in and out of consciousness, having no more energy to cry and only then did it stop. His eyes followed the man out of his room and momentarily flicked over to his mother, standing in the door way. She just closed the door, not even batting an eye.
Their fight continued anyway.