It was bad. Really bad. No one wanted to talk, and I felt like I had to stay strong. For everyone. While some burst into tears, and some took off, I made sure to see them all for as long as I could. I bottled my own emotions for the greater good. I sacrificed my mental state for theirs, and I would do it again if I had too.

Jimin and Hoseok stayed in the apartment all day. I never saw them leave. I chatted to them and tried to cheer them up by reminiscing and by predicting the future. It was fun while it lasted, but every conversation ended up with him. We were stuck in a loop, and we were stuck in it for too long. Dry eyes became wet, and then dry again. But not my eyes. I was strong.

I comforted Jungkook the most. He seemed the most fragile, and he was the youngest. But after a while, he stopped searching for me, stopped wanting my comfort. And that hurt. I was happy though, he seemed to have moved on. He coped by walking. It was a nice, non-destructive way of going about it.

Yoongi, however, was more destructive. I had to get him out of uncountable tight situations because of his recklessness. His favourite pastime nowadays was breaking and entering. There had been numerous calls to the apartment, always with Yoongi cuffed, bruised, and grinning. Like he was satisfied with himself. It was disgusting.

The eldest, Jin, was nowhere. He was either lost in some sort of hell, or found in some sort of heaven. We wouldn't know. Ever. He hadn't even bothered to stick around for very long before disappearing. I had relied on him to be the responsible one, the one who looked after us. He used to look after us. And then he was gone. I wanted to hate him for it. But I couldn't.

The person I wanted to be with the most was Namjoon, and he worked too much for me to see him. Whenever I turned up at the petrol station, he shooed me away with a soft smile, and said, "I'll catch up later," It broke my heart. He obviously didn't want me there. I wanted him though. I wanted to know how he dealt with it. I had tried crying with Jimin and Hoseok, I had tried walking with Jungkook, I had tried rebelling like Yoongi, I had tried isolating myself like Jin, and nothing was working. Namjoon was acting normal. And I had tried that too. I felt like a time bomb, ready to explode at slight movement. And my time was running out. I needed to do something.

My last resort was to visit my family. It was my only chance to get some advice. The others were useless. All I wanted was a drop of support, and maybe I could get it from them. Everyone knew my family was a touchy subject, but no one knew why. I hoped that my dad wouldn't be there when I arrived. But he was. He had always been the issue. I thought that maybe he had changed. He was on the right tracks to recovery, but from what I saw, it was solid proof that no one can change.

The door to the battered bungalow was slightly ajar, a light flickering through the small gap. I frowned when I saw it. I gently pushed it open, and what I saw made my blood boil. His grubby hand swung through the stuffy, pungent air and easily found its mark. Right on my sister's face. That was not the dad I wanted to see. I didn't want to see the alcoholic, abusive dad, who I left. The impact sent my sister to the harsh, uneven, wooden floorboards. She wasn't moving.

Without thinking about the consequences, I grasped one of his empty glass bottles up off the floor and smashed it against his head, breaking it sharply in half, leaving jagged, spiked, glass edges. I had lost all thoughts, and I proceeded to ram it into his stomach, and I didn't stop. I kept going. I wish I had stopped. I wish I had never started. In the moment, everything that had built up inside me was released, and I lost control. All the pain, suffering, grief; I had taken it out on my father. My hands were crimson with blood, and my shirt was stained with it too. The shreds of the remaining glass slipped out of my limp, bloody, yet shaky hands.

I had made the worst mistake of my life.