most days jungkook didn't have energy to do anything. he couldn't text his friends to tell them he was fine, couldn't even answer his mother if she decided to stop ignoring him.
the only thing he did was lock the door to his room and stay in his bed the rest of the time.
everything was too much for him, sometimes. the secrets he kept from his best friends crushed him under their weight.
all the secrets made him feel like a monster. couldn't tell anyone about it, they would just hate him more than he hated himself and he wouldn't be able to handle that.
there wasn't a reason for him not to hate himself. he was an incredibly bad person. had sex with others for money if his mother used all the money for drugs, tried to make other people join…show more content… wasn't good enough, didn't hurt right.
"i don't want to."
he started to hit himself in his side. careful at first. scared of what it would feel like, scared he would like it. then harder, angrier. he clenched his other fist too, tears rolling down his cheeks, the pain making him whimper. he didn't want to, but he had to.
he stopped after what felt like forever, his whole body shaking. "fuck," he whispered. he tried to wipe the tears of his face, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn't do it. his side hurt, a lot. it hurt good.
he got out of his bed standing on shaky legs. he pulled up his shirt to see that his skin was red all around the area where he had been pinching and hitting himself. it would start swelling about now.
he sighed and sat down on the bed again, pinched at some older bruises on his arm.
he sucked. was really pathetic.
having to hit himself until bruises formed was crazy, wasn't it? another sigh escaped him. something had to be mentally wrong with him, but if he admitted that out loud then his friends would send him to a mental hospital or something, and he couldn't afford