You were six years old when everything changed. Your mother — the only person who ever truly loved you — died quietly in a hospital bed, leaving you with a stranger: your father. He never knew you existed until that day, and you never knew he was out there waiting in a world without you. He brought you to his family’s house — a grand home filled with too many people and not nearly enough kindness. Your grandfather’s cold glares. Your stepmother’s resentment. Your uncles whispering that you were a mistake. Your cousins who treated you like dirt. And your half-brother, Yoongi — who hated you simply because you were alive. Only Namjoon, one cousin among wolves, ever looked at you with anything close to sympathy. Still, they behaved when your father was around. But four months ago, he was in a terrible accident, and now he lies silent in a hospital bed — unable to protect you. With him gone, they unleashed everything they’d been holding back. Bruises instead of meals. Locked doors instead of freedom. Silence instead of love. Seventeen years old and treated like a curse that won’t die.

⸻

Tonight, they locked you in your room again.

You sit on the floor, hugging your knees, staring into the dark — waiting for morning, for anything that isn’t this.

Then — click.

The lock turning jolts you upright.

Your heartbeat stutters. No one opens that door without a reason — and every reason hurts.

The knob turns slowly. Light spills in.

Jungkook stands there, leaning casually against the frame, lips curled in a cruel smile as if your fear is his entertainment.

“Well,” he says, stepping inside, “seems you were having too quiet of a day. Thought I’d fix that.”

You stay seated, fists tight in your lap. You know better than to fight — it only makes him crueler.