Everyone loves going home.
I hate home.
It's a prison.
Pure pain.
When I stepped through the front doors of my house, the air was already heavy.
That suffocating silence. That tension that pressed against my skin until my lungs hurt.
I knew.
I knew they were waiting for me.
"Woo-jin."
My father's voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
My stomach twisted painfully. I turned slowly, head down, clutching my school bag so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
"Yes… Father," I whispered.
He didn't waste time. The report card in his hand slammed onto the table, the sound so loud it made me flinch.
"Ninety-two?" His voice dripped with venom. "A dominant Omega from my family brings home a ninety-two?"
My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"What use are you," he continued, stepping closer until I could smell his cologne — sharp, bitter, nauseating — "if you can't even protect this family's reputation? You were born lucky — born into money, status, everything. And this is how you repay us? With mediocrity?"
"I… tried my best," I said softly, hating the way my voice shook.
"Your best?" His laugh was sharp, humorless. "Your best is pathetic."
My mother sat at the far end of the room, sipping tea in silence. She didn't even glance at me.
"Father, please—"
"And as if that wasn't enough," he cut me off, slamming his fist on the table this time, making me jump, "I hear rumors that you were involved in some… incident last night."
Ice flooded my veins.
"I-It wasn't my fault—"
"Shut up!" His voice boomed, loud enough to make my ears ring.
"You're a disgrace," he snarled, jabbing a finger at me. "All you ever do is cry, hide, and make us look weak. Is that what you want? To humiliate us? To make this family a laughingstock?"
"No!" I said desperately, tears burning my eyes. "I didn't want any of this, I didn't—he cornered me—Saebri—"
"You think I care about your excuses?" His words cut sharper than any slap ever could. "If you weren't so weak, no Alpha would dare touch you. If you weren't so pathetic, no one would even think of doing such a thing!"
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my body trembling violently.
Then he stood up, slow and deliberate, and walked to the cabinet. When he turned back, he had the leather strap in his hand.
My breath caught.
"F-Father, please—"
"On your knees."
My knees locked in place, refusing to move.
"Do you dare disobey me?" His voice was soft now, deadly soft.
Shaking, I slowly sank to my knees on the cold marble floor.
The first strike landed hard across my back. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and merciless.
I bit down a cry, but the second hit tore it out of me anyway.
"Stop!" My voice broke as tears streamed down my face. "Please, I'll do better, I promise!"
"You embarrass this family," he said coldly, striking me again. "You'll learn to behave properly, Woo-jin. Or I'll make sure you regret being born."
Each lash burned across my back until I could barely breathe. My fingers dug into the floor, my tears mixing with the marble beneath me.
When he finally stopped, my entire body shook.
"Worthless." The word fell from his lips like poison. "You're a worthless Omega who can't even act like one."
My chest ached, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Yes, Father," I whispered, broken.
"Say it properly."
"I… I am worthless," I said, choking on the words.
He turned away like I was nothing but dirt beneath his shoe. My mother finally spoke, her voice calm, detached.
"Go to your room, Woo-jin. Don't come down until you've fixed your attitude."
I stumbled to my feet, my legs barely holding me, and somehow made it upstairs.
The moment I shut my bedroom door, I collapsed against it, sliding down until I was curled up on the floor.
My sobs came out raw, strangled, like my lungs couldn't keep up.
"I'm not worthless," I whispered, though it sounded hollow even to me.
But my father's voice rang in my ears, louder, sharper.
I wondered if he was right.
I stayed on my bedroom floor for a long time, my knees pulled up to my chest, my back throbbing where Father's strap had left its marks.
But eventually, I couldn't take it anymore.
I needed someone — anyone — to tell me I wasn't as disgusting and pathetic as Father said.
I wiped my swollen face with the back of my hand and forced myself to my feet, my legs unsteady as I walked down the hall.
Mother was sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair. The faint smell of lavender perfume filled the air.
"Mother…" My voice cracked.
She didn't stop brushing. "What is it?"
I swallowed hard. "I… I don't know what to do. I keep trying. No matter how hard I study, no matter what I do, it's never enough. He—he hit me again."
She set the brush down with a soft click, turned her head slightly, and looked at me through the mirror. Her eyes were calm — too calm.
"And?"
"M-Mother… it hurts." My voice broke, and I hated how desperate I sounded. "He hates me. I… I don't know how to make him stop."
"You knew better than to bring home those grades." She stood and faced me fully now, her expression like ice. "You knew better than to let rumors spread about you and that Alpha. Do you think we can afford that kind of humiliation? Do you think your father punishes you because he enjoys it?"
Her words stabbed through me.
"I didn't ask for it!" I choked out, tears spilling again. "I didn't want Saebri to corner me—"
"Then maybe," she interrupted sharply, "you should stop acting like prey. You're a dominant Omega. Act like one. Control yourself."
My breath hitched. "Y-You think this is my fault?"
She didn't flinch. "If you weren't so careless, no Alpha would dare touch you. Stop pretending to be innocent. You keep embarrassing this family, Woo-jin. We are trying to fix you."
Fix me.
The words hit harder than the strap had.
Something broke inside me then.
I stumbled back, my voice small and broken. "I… just wanted you to hold me," I whispered. "Just once. Just tell me I'm not—"
But her face didn't change.
"You should go to your room before your father hears you again," she said coldly, and turned back to her mirror like I was nothing more than background noise.
My chest ached so badly I thought it might split open.
I turned and left, shutting my door quietly behind me.
And then I collapsed.
I slid down against the door, my arms wrapped around myself, my sobs coming out in short, strangled sounds until my throat hurt.
I started crying.
It's not fair! What did I do wrong to suffer like this?
"I wish I wasn't born," I whispered to the empty room. "If I wasn't here… they wouldn't be so angry all the time. They wouldn't hate me so much."
My eyes burned as I stared at the floor, tears dripping onto the wood.
A terrible, terrifying thought crept into my mind.
What if I just… disappeared?
Would they even notice?
Or would they be relieved?
The thought scared me — but it didn't go away.
I curled up tighter, trembling, my back screaming with pain as I pressed myself into the corner of the room.
My father's voice echoed in my ears.
Worthless.
My mother's voice followed.
We are trying to fix you.
And I cried until I couldn't cry anymore.
Until my body was empty and cold and heavy, like I'd already disappeared.
The next morning, I didn't even want to look at myself in the mirror.
My face was pale, my eyes rimmed red from crying all night. My back still throbbed where Father had lashed me with the strap, and every movement sent stabbing pain across my shoulders.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was cold, sharp, and suffocating.
I froze as I overheard my parents' voices.
"He's ruined," Father said quietly, but there was no emotion behind it — only annoyance. "He's trembling, pale, weak… this is a problem."
Mother's voice was calm, perfectly composed, dripping with contempt. "Ruined? No. He's exactly what he is: a liability. But if anyone finds out how fragile he is, how weak… that will ruin us. The family's reputation is at stake. Nothing else matters."
I pressed my hands to my ears, tears blurring my vision. They don't care that I'm hurt. They don't care that I'm crying. They only care about what others think.
Father's voice was low, clipped. "Do something about him. Discipline him. Make him… useful."
Mother tilted her head slightly, cold and calculating. "Discipline? He's exactly where he should be. Afraid. Weak. Frightened. That fear is useful—so long as he keeps up appearances."
My chest tightened, my stomach turned. They don't care about me. They don't see me at all.
"I… I just want someone to care," I whispered to myself, voice breaking.
They would never care.
Not about the bruises on my back.
Not about the tears I cried into my pillow.
Not about the fear that consumed me every time I saw their faces.
I sank to the floor against the wall, curling in on myself, tears falling silently.
"I wish I didn't exist," I whispered. "I wish I could disappear… so they wouldn't have to worry about me ruining their image."
The room was empty, silent except for my sobs.
No one would notice if I stopped breathing.
No one would care.
And somehow… that was the worst part.