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Cinderella: Of Fear and Pain

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Chapter I:

In the Hands of a Step-Father

(Non-Con Warning for Beginning of this Chapter)

The room is pitch-black; ominous and heavy. Amongst the nauseating sounds of low grunts and soft whimpers came an occasional exhale and a cry... the harsh rustling of cloth and the grinding of clenched teeth...

A soft voice breaks the sinful cacophony, exhausted and almost humble, "Please... please...”

A reply comes in the form of a low growl. A broad silhouette looms above a much slighter outline atop a rich canopy bed. The darker, meaner shadow moans, a shameless grin lights up the older man's face as he takes from the younger.

Humiliation and defeat pales the already white-faced victim beneath the shadow; hands tied tightly to the headboard, legs thrown carelessly over broad shoulders. The boy cries softly as his mother's husband takes from him his youthful chastity with each penetrating thrust of his hips.

A painful eternity passes until the thrusting seizes with a low, satisfied grunt. The younger chokes back his sobs, a hand coming up to shield his face to hold his breath... waiting for the other man to slide away and surrender to a sobering darkness.

He feels rough hands push his legs off the hard shoulders and a now-soft member painfully retreats. His hands became untied and within seconds he is shoved off of the bed.

A gruff, tired masculine voice mumbles, "Get out."

The boy crawls slowly towards the white door, silent tears stream down his cheeks... his body numbed and bruised.

In a cloudy, drug-filled haze, he manages to reach the tall wooden slab that separates him from his safe sanctuary. The door thunders in his pounding vision, cold and icy to his trembling hands.

Moments flash by unnoticed and he finds himself in the bathroom. The shower runs, water ripples down his violated body and evidence of his misfortune slides down the drain...

A razor blade flashes against pale skin. Red cherry blossoms bloom against the pristine tile. And a smile lights up a distraught face.

"Jimin?" A worried maid frowns at the bathroom door when only silence answers. She lightly lays a hand on the dark wooden door, her heartbeat loud in her ear. The young master has been in the bathroom for over an hour and a half now.

She attempts to call out with a cheerful voice, "Jiminie, I will leave your dinner in your room... the cook prepared your favorite!" She held up her smile but a morose feeling makes her smile falter.

Her thoughts run wild. Again. Not again...

She knocks on the door, a hair beneath desperation. It was a routine for Jimin to disappear for hours within the confines of his bathroom after meeting with his father. But he has always answered her calls, never impassive to her worry. There have only been a small number of times when he had chosen to remain unresponsive. And those times...

Her frown deepens, worry creases her forehead, "Jimin, please answer me." She lays her ear against the door.

Before she could reach for the bathroom key inside her pocket, warmth replaces the soft cool air touching her toes. Suddenly, wet... hot... the feeling comes in waves.

Quickly, she jumps back and looks down. Water streams from underneath the door, spilling from the crack and across the stark white carpet. The clear water comes out in disrupted streams... her pupils shrink in panic when thin pink lines thread through the crystalline liquid, slowly becoming thicker... redder.

Her scream echoes throughout the manor. "Jimin!"



Wails of an ambulance echoed in his ear as Jimin's limp and wet body is transferred onto stable hospital grounds. Warm hands dance across his arms and suddenly cold harsh tubes became rough miraculous companions.

Yells summon desensitized nurses, steady and controlled voices rise with routine and typical commands. There is nothing to fear here. They’ve seen it all a hundred times over. It is just another day... save some lives today, lose a few after using every ounce of energy, and then go home to greet a silent house.

As Jimin’s body wheels passed dozens of other patients... somewhere in the hospital… a lonely boy opens his eyes.



"Doctor Min, we've received an emergency call!"

Yoongi looked up from his paperwork, his pen tightly cradled in his steady hand, "What is it?"

The nurse tries to catch her breath from her sprint from the bottom floor, the setting sun outside the office window lights up her tired, pale face, "It's about your coma patient." She strides completely into his office and hugs her clipboard against her chest, “Taehyung.”

Yoongi stood up, the professional calm façade evaporates into a grief-filled frown. He immediately closes his files and pulls on his pristine white scrubs, "What happened?"

She shook her head before a smile finds its way to her face, "He just woke up." Yoongi stills; his hands no longer calm, shaking with hope, "What did you say?"

The nurse quickly walks up to him, presenting him with a folder and her well-handled clipboard, "His response is still a little slow, but he appears to be able to function normally."

Yoongi swallows, gently letting her pass the items into his hand. Looking down with a mixed expression, he flips through the records, "But?"

She lets out a controlled breath before answering firmly, "He seems to have amnesia... Whether the condition is permanent has yet to be decided. "

Yoongi let his concentration fall fully onto the harsh medical terminology sprawled across the pages, "That is to be expected considering where he sustained the most injury.” Yoongi closes the file and walks out of the door towards the elevator. He passes the paperwork back to the nurse as she quickly trails after him, "I was hoping for a miracle but amnesia was inevitable.”

She nods and enters the elevator after him, "Will this complicate the suit?"

Yoongi checks his watch, "I need you to contact Mr. Kim." He promptly walks out as the elevator doors open.

She nervously kept in step, her voice breathy, "This soon?"

Yoongi continues to move through the halls with disguised haste, "We are going to need him if we are going to prove Taehyung's the victim."



Namjoon shakes hands with his client with a professional smile, "The evidence you've provided thus far has been extraordinary." He places the documents onto his mahogany desk and walks his client towards the rich redwood door, "I will have my assistant call you once the timeline has been compiled accordingly."

The client smiles and bows quickly, "Thank you so much, Mr. Kim!"

Namjoon gives a distant nod, "No need to thank me... it is my job." He opens the door, "If you find any further valuable information, please give me a call. The more evidence we acquire, the higher our winning percentage becomes."

"I will!" The client walks away.

Namjoon closes the door and walks back to his desk. His heartbeat is slow and his mind is offset with disinterest. Boredom is dangerous in this line of work. He knows that all too well.

Noticing a faint light blinking on the office phone, he presses it, "What is it, Jin?"

His assistant's voice sounds beautifully from the ugly beige phone, "Dr. Min needs you to return to Korea as soon as possible."

"Did he tell you why?" Namjoon begins to pile various files into his briefcase. For a man of medicine, Yoongi is never the optimal ideal of a patient man.

"Not much information was given but he did leave a name." A soft sound of rustling paper stalls the moment.

Namjoon pauses, staring at the communication device with a look of dismay, "Go ahead." After a momentary pause, Jin answers, "Taehyung."

Namjoon's eyes darken, immediately he unlocks one of his drawers and pulls out Taehyung's neatly bound files, "Jin, I want you to pack up a few things. I will need you to accompany me back to my South Korean office."


"Tell the others that we are leaving Japan tonight. Have them inform my clients of my emergency leave."

"Right away, Mr. Kim." A sharp click.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, his hands stilling, and he smiles. Finally, the case of Whalien will be put into motion. With the awakening of the prime suspect and victim, the rise or fall of the elite corporation can now be predicted.



There have been too many incidents with one Park Jimin but the well-masked conditions will no longer be protected, "Your son's wounds have been taken care of. Nothing fatal.” The doctor narrows his eyes at the older pair before him, “However, we did find traces of strong aphrodisiac in his bloodstream. After a thorough check, we’ve discovered disturbing evidence of foul play." Mr. Park's eyebrow twitches slightly from the cryptic remark, "Yes?"

The doctor shows him a diagram and indicates to a section on the human body, "It appears that..." The doctor pauses as if to wonder whether or not he should disclose the information, but after a moment, he continued, "There are tears and minor bleeding." The doctor sighs, "We have reason to believe that he may be a rape victim. It would explain his sudden suicide attempt. We are going to keep him here for further monitoring, he should be able to return home within the next two days if he is able to regain his strength."

Mrs. Park looks disturbed, her small hands moving to grasp the doctor‘s arm, "Raped?" Mr. Park clears his throat roughly and pulls her away, "May we see our son?"

The doctor nodded, "Of course. But refrain from speaking too loud or get too close. He hasn‘t woken up yet, so we cannot be sure of his reactions to the new environment."

"Thank you, doctor." Mr. Park dismisses the doctor with a forced smile.

That insolent child is going to regret this.



The loud roaring of the plane is calming, the cold puffs of conditioned air fluttered against the superstar‘s face, "Heechul, I need you to announce JK’s break."

Heechul stops his incessant clicking and let his hands hover above the keyboard, "Break?"

Jungkook looks out of the window of his private jet, his onyx eyes hazy and devoid of emotion, "There are some things that are happening within Whalien that Jeon Jungkook needs to take care of." He flips open his cell phone and looks at the time, “JK needs to be put aside for the time being.”

He had just finished his second successful tour in Japan but a few incidents back home in Korea has left his mind too boggled to continue the second wave of concerts on his schedule. He leans uncomfortably back against the soft cushion of his bucket seat.

I wonder how Yoongi’s putting up with Taehyung’s condition...

Heechul re-opens a portal on his laptop and began rapidly typing, fulfilling Jungkook‘s request without another word. After sending off a couple of descriptive excuses, he raises his voice to speak to Jungkook, "What brought this about? I thought you didn't care about your father's company."

Jungkook tilts his head back against the cushion, his eyes lingering on the stretch of bright white cloud outside his window; clear and distinct, "No. I don't care to inherit it, but I do care about its survival and existence. My father is too trusting of his colleagues. I don't trust that Vice President of his..."

"Vice President Park?” Heechul rubs his eyes to release the stress of his constant stare at the screen, “Is this about the recent funds going missing?"

Jungkook smirks and looks over to his longtime friend and assistant, "That's only part of it."

Heechul gives him a questioning look, closing his laptop and stowing it under his seat, “You sound too sure of yourself, Jungkook.”

"Have you heard about that accident involving Taehyung?"

"The boy who fell from the 4th floor of our building? Of course, it was big news. He was one of your best friends...” Heechul immediately grew careful with his words, “He’s been in a coma ever since the fall. But... what's that got to do with the Vice President?"

Jungkook’s smirk didn’t falter, turning his head away, "It has everything to do with the Vice President."

“Do you suspect he did it?”

Jungkook leisurely pushes back against the seat until it reclines, “I know he was involved...”

Heechul sighs, “Why now? The Vice President has been in that position for years.”

Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, willing his mind to shut off for at least a few hours. Just before surrendering to his troubled sleep, he whispers, “That’s what I am wanting to find out myself.”


End Chapter I

In the Hands of a Step-Father


(in case you want to know what the boys look like in my mind for this story)