Yoongi carefully slipped into his house as the door softly closed behind him with a click. Something was wrong with the atmosphere, he realized. Something enough to make his hair stand on and and his fingers twitch.

Yoongi froze when he heard something crash and scatter all over the floor. Loud sobbing and yelling from the living room, which echoed around the empty walls and only intensified as crash after crash was heard.

Eomma.

Yoongi shoved his backpack behind the umbrella holder and quickly tip toed to the living room, peeping from the wall and getting a clear view of what made his stomach flip.

His mother was splayed on the wooden floor with her arms raised above her head, blood trickling down and dripping onto the floor.

His father held a large knife from the kitchen in one hand while the other was searching for another item to throw - a flaming expression on his chiseled face.

"YOU'RE A WORTHLESS WOMAN, YOU LITTLE-" A snow globe sailed through the air and a painful crunch was heard as it collided with her cheekbone, and the contents spilled over her clothes and floor.

The small figurine of a little boy inside was snapped in three ways and lay pathetically on its side, while the sparkly liquid mixed with the dark blood on the floor.
Yoongi clenched his fists as his father cursed and yelled and his mother cried, completely sick of the way she was always crying at his father's feet with hopeless pleas that would never be answered.

Her face was now bleeding, but she ignored it and begged for some sort of understanding from the man who slashed at her arms in frustration when she wouldn't be quiet.

Yoongi ignored the blood-curling scream after something else shattered on the floor; snatching a home phone and running out the door and to the corner of the front porch.

There was green mold growing on the walls and a spider crawled near Yoongi's foot, but he didn't care as he dialed the police with shaky fingers.
"Uh, I'm calling for," his voice shook relentlessly as his heart ravaged in his chest when he heard another scream coming from inside. "Abuse. A woman is b-being abused by her h-husband. Me? I'm. . . .I'm the son. The address?"

Yoongi told them the address with teary eyes and the call was disconnected, leaving him to stare at the neighboring homes filled with normal, happy families bustling about with their lives. What Yoongi would have given to be a part of a happy family.

He curled up into a ball, not knowing what to think anymore. Would his father go to jail? He didn't care, since his father was nothing but an alcoholic tyrant with anger issues. Yoongi was often used as his excuse to let his anger out, whether it was verbal, physical, or both. They both hurt equally, anyway.

Would his mother be hospitalized? Yoongi liked his mother more than his father, even if she never paid attention to him and fell weak to her knees for his father. If it was a retirement center or a hospital he would visit her, sure. Even if she complained about him being what ruined her life completely.

Yoongi never got along with his parents even though he tried. He tried as hard as he could to please his father with his good grades, or make his mother smile with a joke he heard from school. He tried to make dinner once when he heard that dinner was usually a special "family time", but was coldly rejected by both his parents. Heck, he even smiled and did aegyo every so often to make his parents feel at least a little bit more light hearted, which failed miserably when his father claimed that he was acting like a useless baby.

Yoongi did his best and nothing went the right way. The only time he ever got anyone to smile was when he did aegyo in front of Jimin, who laughed until he had tears streaming down his face and said that he should do that more. Seeing Jimin smile because of him lightened his heart and made him forget about the problems at home, and he found that he enjoyed every second of Jimin's laugh. But Yoongi had run out of those moments.

Suddenly sirens blared and sung in alarm as a police car pulled up in front of the house and two officers filed out. They stepped over the creaky wooden steps and noticed Yoongi watching them with tear stains and bloodshot eyes.
"Is this the house that reported for abuse?"
"Y-" Yoongi cleared his throat and frantically rose. "Yes." He unlatched the door and pointed down the hall, where somehow, there was nothing but eery silence.

The officers kept one hand on their guns and the other alert as they tracked towards the living room with Yoongi following with dread.

What he saw hit him harder than he thought would; his father, cleaning his bloody knife hastily with Yoongi's favorite blanket, and his mother laying on the floor.

Dead.