TW: DV - Skip FLASHBACK section

JIMIN: Lilly...

JIMIN: Please talk to me.

JIMIN: I didn't mean it, Lilly. I'm not acting like myself anymore.

JIMIN: Can you call me? Please?

Lilly:

I frown, rubbing my head as if massaging my headache. I just spent the day studying different music styles and learning what Bighit prefer to use. Do I really have to go home and deal with my personal life as well?

At lunch, I called my family to say hello to them all. They're doing well.

I lied and told them I'm doing well here, and they believed me. But I don't know how long I can hold off Jimin. He is now associated with a memory I wanted to forget long ago. Why must he be seen in my mind like that? What's wrong with me?

Just forgive him. Give in. You deserve the pain.

My brain tortured me all day, begging me to give in, begging me to let it go.

But I wasn't raised like that. My mum helped me get to my feet and move on. My father taught me to defend myself. My friends helped me see my self-worth. But now that I'm alone I finally realise how much I relied on them.

I force my phone deep into my bag and head out into the car park under the Bighit building.

"Lilly!" I turn around to see Yoongi rushing over to me. I grin before I even realise what I'm doing. The hole that was getting larger in my chest shrinks until I can't feel it anymore. He's like the light in my life, filling my darkness.

"Hey, Yoongi," I beam as he comes closer.

"Want me to take you home? You don't have a car yet, right?" He gestures to the car behind him.

"I'd like that," I follow him to his car, feeling more and more elated.

He drives me home in silence. Well, not complete silence. He has his unreleased mixtape playing in the car, letting me listen to it.

We listen to 4 of his songs in the time it takes for him to drive me home.

"Do you like it?" He asks as he turns the car off. He looks a little nervous as if my opinion is so important to him.

"It's awesome, Yoongi," I grin as he chuckles.

"Hey, be honest. It doesn't sound right. Tell the truth," He teases.

"Well, it does sound like he could do with some polishing up," I grin shyly, trying not to belittle his work. If I'm honest, I'd say it is a really basic song. But the lyrics are really well written.

"Come on, I can take criticism," He jumps out of the car with me, closing and locking it up.

"Alright, it's really basic. It needs some work," Yoongi's smile turns into a grimace, "But the lyrics are really awesome. You just need a better beat to match it,"

Yoongi nods, side-glancing me as we walk up the stairs to my apartment.

"Well, I'm glad I asked you to listen to it. I really did need an honest opinion,"

As I close the door my phone begins ringing. I look down to see Jimin's name.

Yoongi sighs as he looks over my shoulder.

"You should answer it," He murmurs, moving into the kitchen. I follow him, astonished.

"W-Would that be okay?" I stutter.

He moves over to me and picks up the call, passing it to me. He gives me a small smile, turning back to the kitchen.

I put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Lilly? Min Lilly?" Jimin yells desperately.

"Hello, Jimin," I mumble, walking over to the dining table and sitting down.

"Thank god, I've been trying to reach you all day," Jimin sighs with relief, "Are you okay? How did you get home last night? I was looking for you for hours! I was so worried,"

I sigh, feeling pressured to tell him the truth. I glance up at Yoongi. He is watching me a little warily, but he doesn't stop me.

"I got picked up. A friend saw me walking home," I murmur, keeping my eyes locked on Yoongi.

"Who?" Jimin murmurs as if he's already dreading the answer.

"Yoongi," I mumble, waiting for him to blow up.

"Min Yoongi..." Jimin repeats quietly. I try to ignore the anger in his tone and change the subject.

"Why did you call me, Jimin?" I ask.

"I wanted to apologize," He whispers, "I wanted to see if you were okay. Is your chest okay? Why did you run like that?"

I try to think of a way to tell him without having to relive my past, but nothing comes to mind.

"I had a panic attack. I needed to get out of there," I state clearly, trying to hide my emotions. My breath hitches as Yoongi takes the seat across from me, grasping my hand tightly. He looks deeply into my eyes, trying to comfort me without words. He must understand how crucial it is to remain silent whilst Jimin is on the phone.

"A panic attack? Why?" Jimin croaks.

"I... I really don't want to talk about it, Jimin," I plead silently. Yoongi begins stroking my knuckles, calming me.

"Please, I need to know what I did to you..." Jimin whines, sounding upset.

"Fine... I... I'll tell you," I whisper, trying to ignore the flashbacks.

FLASHBACK:

It's a fine summer's day. I limp home from work, my ankle aching and my lower back throbbing.

They asked questions again today.

"Why are you limping?"

"You're so clumsy!"

"Go to the doctor before it gets worse. You don't want to miss any more work days,"

I ignore the reprimands, putting on my mask; the mask made by him. My fake smile. I smile and giggle at the girls at my work, promising to ask the doctor to replace my second left foot. I don't reply to the guys though. He'll know. He always knows.

Everyone assumes I'm the clumsiest person in the world.

Black eyes from tripping on the washing basket and hitting the bed frame.

PUSH.

Bruises on my wrists and arms from bumping into the kitchen drawers because the kitchen is so small.

PUNCH.

The cuts from my neighbour's cats that keep eating my growing vegetable garden.

SLASH!

I even purposefully slip at work, so they believe my stories.

But they're all lies.

As I reach the fence leading to my house, I pause. If I'm late, I'm in trouble. If I go in, I'm in trouble.

I panic, trying to find the answer to my dilemma.

After a moment I open the gate and walk up to the front door. I test the door handle. It's open.

He must be asleep, I wonder to myself.

I silently push the door open, my ears open for any sounds. The house smells more sour than usual. Surely, he'll blame me for this too.

I walk further into the house. I spot him on the couch watching a new TV show on Netflix.

I try to tip-toe behind him to the bedroom. But that never works.

"You're late," I hear a growl from the chair facing the TV.

"It was hard... limping," I whisper. The voice scoffs gruffly.

"Don't lie. I bet you're screwing Jason, that cunt," he grumbles, prying himself from the couch to face me.

His 26-year-old, bloodshot eyes glare down at me. He's easily over 6 feet, but I've never asked.

When we first met, I thought his height was adorable. I could hug him and hear his heartbeat easily. But now it just makes it easier for him to overpower me.

I thought his hooded eyes were sexy. Now, they terrify me.

I thought his muscles were sexy, making it easier for him to lift me bridal-style. But now they're used for harm.

I thought his drinking habit made him easier to go out with and have fun with friends. But now it revolts me and takes almost my entire paycheck.

I thought he loved me, but now I realise I am the one who was tricked into believing it was a mutual relationship. He doesn't need a girlfriend or wife. He needs a servant to clean for him. A woman to make money for him. A slut to fuck whenever he wants.

"Jason is gay," I murmur. He steps around the couch, closing the gap between us. I look down at my feet, cringing away from him.

"What did I say about talking back?" He growls.

"Not to..." I squeal as he grabs my chin and roughly pulls me, so I am looking up at him.

"Are you trying to make me jealous because I fucked Stacey?" He sneers.

My heart pounds, anger and sadness pulsing through my body.

"I wouldn't..."

"Good," He grins, "Because I wouldn't have fucked Stacey if you put out, got it?"

I nod as he lets my face go. He yawns.

"I'm going to have a shower. Make dinner," He demands, heading down the hallway.

I relax a little, waiting for the bathroom door to close. As I hear the tell-tale slam I rush into the kitchen and open the bar fridge. My heart drops into my stomach. He's gone and bought a whole 24-pack of rum.

I try to control my panic, imagining how he's going to be tonight. It's always worse when he drinks a lot.

I pull out the defrosted meat from the fridge with shaky hands and begin cooking.

After dinner, he pulls me onto the couch beside him, his hands roaming up and down my body. As he laughs at the TV he grips me tightly, cutting into my skin.

"Ouch.." I whisper, biting my lip.

He stops laughing.

I feel his hands roughly pull me to face him. He is glaring at me, his eyes unfocused.

"You don't like when I touch you?" He growls, scowling.

"It's not that," I look down at the blood seeping from my skin.

"Good, because tonight is the night," I stare up at him, paralysed.

Oh no...

"The night? The night for what?" I ask quietly. He lets my face go before smacking me, hard. Tears form in my eyes as I try to ignore the pain.

"Shut up, bitch," He laughs, "After this, we are going to bed and you're going to put out, whether you want to or not," I turn and look at him, my heart beating fast in my throat. Shock turns to panic.

"B-But... I'm not ready..." He turns his head to me, eyes wide. His fist flies right into my face before I even know what's happening. I fall back, falling onto my knees in front of the couch.

"I don't care," He growls in my ear, chuckling like a maniac.

No. I can't do it. I can't.

I spot the knife under the couch. The one he used on my ankle last night, saying he was going to chop my foot off if I complain about the injury I sustained from being thrown into the bookshelf the other day. It still has the stains of my blood on the rigged edge. The same blood that still leaks from the bandage on my foot.

I grasp it, my hands shaking violently.

I can do this. I can do this.

This is the only way out.

"What are you doing down there? Crying again?" He pulls me to my feet. I drop the knife before he can see it.

I can't do it. I can't do it.

Tears fall down my face as he begins shaking me. I can't hear what he's screaming at me. All I know is this is my life now. I don't have the strength to stop him. I can't do it.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. He lets me go, spinning around in his drunken state.

"Freeze! Put your hands up!" An officer yells. 3 officers enter, raising their guns at him. He puts his arms up, smirking.

"Do what you want, officer, I'll be out in hours. FUCK YOU DEBORAH! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME YOU BITCH!"

This isn't the first time the cops have been called. Last time he was locked up for 5 hours. I didn't even realise he would be back.

When he returned, I wanted to die. I never want to feel that pain ever again.

"Please, don't..." I whisper, fear engulfing me.

"Ma'am please back away," An officer gestures for me to come to him as the other officer yells at him.

"You're under arrest for the murders of Jason Smith and Kayla Broomhall. You're also under arrest for the sexual and physical assault of Lilly Min!" An officer pulls me away before he can retaliate.

The smell... the good mood... not hitting me for being late... now I know why.

The officers cuff him. He gives me one last look of hatred before being pulled out the door by 3 cops. That is the last time I saw him face-to-face, but not the last time I saw his face.

FLASHBACK END

. . . . . 

Tears stream down my face as I begin sobbing. Yoongi stands and moves into the seat beside me, wrapping his arms around me. He silently comforts me as I finish my story.

"Lilly... I didn't know. I would never do that..." Jimin whispers, barely holding in his sobs.

"I know, Jimin, it's just that violence and anger scare me. It has only been a few years since then and I struggle with it a lot. I can't... I can't do this... I need time, I... I don't know what to do... I can't do this," I sob, wanting to hang up the phone so I can hear Yoongi's voice.

"No, no, no, no! Lilly, please. Don't think of me like that! I'm sorry, please!" Jimin begins crying, his silent sobs barely heard through the phone.

"I'm sorry, Jimin..." I whisper as I hang up.

I sob earnestly as Yoongi wraps me in his embrace. He stands and leads me to the couch, allowing me to curl up by his side.

He leaves me to cry into his chest for a moment, humming comforting noises, slowly easing me out of the pain. Eventually, he decides to say something.

"It's okay, Lilly. One day, the nightmares will decrease. One day the anxiety will lessen. Your memories will become vague, and the tightness will ease," Yoongi murmurs soothingly, "I can't promise you will forget, and I can't promise you'll be fine later, but I can promise that it will get better,"

I look up at him, sniffling and hiccupping.

"Why did you make me pick up the phone?" I ask, curiously.

"He needs to know," Yoongi smirks, "He needs to know how you feel and he needs to know you're not interested,"

"How do you know I'm not interested?" I pout, causing Yoongi to laugh.

"After what I just witnessed, I'm pretty sure you're not," He grins. Suddenly, I realise just how close I am to him. His lips are barely an inch from mine when I look up at him. I blush, staring deeply into his eyes.

His smile slowly slides from his face. He looks down at my lips, then back up at my eyes. I feel his hand slide up to my neck, then to the back of my head. I expect the tingle of fear to erupt from his touch, but instead, a different tingle runs across my skin.

Can I really overcome this?

Yoongi's lips part slightly as he moves a little closer. I can feel his breath tickling my skin, causing an ache in my lower abdomen. I want him to kiss me. I want to close the gap.

Yoongi smirks slightly before doing just that.

As his lips touch mine, the world explodes. The wetness surprises me, reminding me of my tear-soaked face. My fingers tingle as I try to resist the urge to explore. I content myself with running my fingers across his neck. He pulls me closer to him until I can't move any closer.

This is it. This is the feeling I have been begging for my entire life: Love.

He's the one I want.