qrn

PRISONERS (22/?)

May 16, 2011 23:18

Title: Prisoners (22/?)
Author: qrn
Pairing: OT6
Rating: M (Mature), for sexual & violent themes
Summary: Each of them has their own problems that may just be too hard to cure.
Author's Notes: Nearly a week has gone by without an update--surprised myself, actually >.< SORRY again people... I thought with my assignment finally finished & submitted, I could continue the series in peace... seems like I was wrong =( The point is, I'm back now! Yes I know you guys (and B2UTIES around the world) are spazzing with anticipation for our boys' 1st full-length album which will be released in a few minutes (my ordered copy is expected to come in two days--HELL YES!!!!), so here's our lovely rapper's POV =D Just on a side note, ONLY attempt to search the mentioned book titles in this chapter if you are not faint-hearted (trust me, they contain BEYOND DISTURBING materials). Anyways, I hope you guys don't kill me for the overly depressing & disturbing content >.< Feedbacks & comments are welcome, as always ^^ Enjoy!


22. JUNHYUNG
The two of us stood at the apartment door. The room wasn't what we expected at all; to be honest, it was far more disappointing. The walls were peeling off, and we could see cracks on the stained windows; even worse, there were mould on the wooden floor. An odd, damp smell filled our nostrils as soon as we stepped our feet into the room.

"So?" the long-haired hippie asked, rather rudely.

HyunA cringed slightly, and I pulled her closer. I knew we were thinking the same thing: no matter how disgustingly run-down the apartment was, we had no other choice.

"Well..." I gulped.

Otherwise, we wouldn't have anywhere to live.

I held her hand. The two of us exchanged concerned glances. "…We'll take it," I said with a sigh.

The hippie blew a smoke. "Alright then," he said gruffly. "Follow me."

Swinging our duffel bags over one shoulder, I took one last look at the room. It was barely half the size of our old one, and the kitchen seemed as if it had never been cleaned in years (seeing the amount of dust and soot covering every visible surface). The bathroom and toilet were joint, and from the open door I could tell it wasn't pretty--but seeing how much was left in our bank accounts, we were in no position to demand a place more fit for living.

"I'm sorry," she choked, clutching to my jacket. "I'm sorry."

I didn't say anything as we followed the landlord downstairs.

Everything would be fine.

I crushed the cigarette underfoot. Even after a few minutes of inhaling the poison, I wasn't calmed enough.

Darn it.

That kid's pale face kept flashing in my mind. His eyes were widened, and his lips were trembling with fear. The pistol was held still against his temple.

"Hyung!"

I shook my head, banging a fist on the brick wall.

Don't look at me like that.

I was about to explode when that Doojoon guy said we should stay. It was crazy; who the hell did he think he was, making all the decisions for us?

He might as well work here.

So I left.

A bunch of cowards, all of them.

I did it because I didn't want to have anything to do with those idiots anymore.

We weren't even close in the first place.

I had sort of regretted getting that blonde kid out of that red room (or whatever it was, I didn't want to know).

They were nobody.

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, and opened the door.

The only thing to do now is to escape from this damned place.

I had been wandering around the building, trying to find the exit door for the umpteenth time. It was strange--no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember where I had entered into the building from on the first day.

Where... was it?

It felt like forever when that lady took me around blocks and corridors just to reach the so-called common room back then.

I can't retrace my steps.

I took a deep breath.

Get a grip of yourself, Yong Junhyung.

I couldn't spend another night here, and there was no way I would go sit back on that fucking electric chair.

But all I can see is a maze of doors.

Clearing my throat, I peered into the empty hallway.

Don't be fooled.

Based on my observation for the past week, those labcoat-wearing psychos could appear out of anywhere, anytime.

I have to be careful.

Quietly, I slipped out of the restroom. It was quiet (as expected), and I chose to turn left. I was dumbstruck when I was met with another steep-looking set of stairs; I was absolutely sure I had gone down and up so many floors.

How many levels does this building have?

I clearly remembered it being three-storey from the outside, but now I wasn't so sure anymore.

Where am I?

I climbed down the stairs slowly.

If Room Eleven really is on the second level, then I'm in...

My heart was beating faster.

I'm lost.

The thought sent chills down my spine. I stopped, and my eyes were fixed at the wall at the end of the staircase.

Dead end.

"Fuck!" I yelled, kicking the wall in exasperation. All the walking had gone to waste. "Fuck." It hurt.

Now what?

Out of my eyes, I saw a small crevice between two bricks on the left side of the wall (almost invisible).

What the hell is it?

Curiously, I took out a cigarette and pushed it in (I didn't want to risk using my own finger); it fit. I tried digging in through the fissure with the cigarette, and there were dust.

What's on the other side?

After I dug out more dirt and small rocks, I peeked into the hole (it was about three times bigger now)--but all I could see was pitch-black darkness. There was no noise at all; it remained that way as I waited for a few minutes.

I wonder if anyone has ever been here before.

Suddenly a dim, yellow light brightened up (although it was still dark) what appeared to be a room full of medium to large-sized animal cages on the other side of the wall. I blinked my eye, and I could see silhouettes of more than one figure in a few cages.

What room is this?

Oddly, they didn't make any sound (were they sleeping?). I wasn't able to identify what animals were there (assuming there was more than one type in the room).

A kennel?

A moment later, sounds of footsteps were heard.

Someone's entering the room.

Through my left eye I could see a tall, dark figure emerging from the narrow doorway across the room. He (or she?) approached the cages, holding up a flashlight.

"How are you all doing?" It was an old man's voice.

A vet?

There was no response. I saw the silhouettes in a few cages shuddering.

"Time to take your medicine," he said in a rather cheerful tone, pushing a trolley of bottles and beakers into the room. I swallowed nervously at the last word.

That doesn't sound good.

The man filled a glass with murky-looking liquid (I didn't want to know what it was) from one of the bottles. "Here." Holding the flashlight in one hand, he leaned closer to one particular cage. The subject backed away, refusing to drink it. I pressed one hand to my mouth when I saw it was not an animal.

It's a boy.

He appeared to be about 11-13 years old, with tattered clothes and unkempt white hair (how the hell did his hair turn that color?). His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his skin was scaly and dry.

"If you don't drink it, then you won't get cured."

I learnt that the word has a completely opposite meaning here.

The kid shook his head.

He'll probably die if he drinks it.

"Come on."

The kid pressed his back against the furthest corner of the cage, hands flailing desperately.

"Fine!" The man (I still couldn't see his face clearly) made a clicking noise with his tongue and spilled some of the liquid into the cage in frustration, causing the poor kid to release a frightened yelp. "This is exactly why the experiment is so fucking slow," he grunted as he threw a quick glance at the other cages.

As expected, it's another twisted experiment.

Suddenly he cracked the steel bars open with his hands (holy shit!) and reached into the cage, holding the glass. He choked the boy with the disgusting drink.

What the--

Not long after, the latter vomited. I stared in horror as his body started to shake uncontrollably. I noticed that the other cages were making loud sounds. Panning around the room, my eyes widened at what I saw.

All the cages are filled with children.

They all had messy, tangled white hair, and their clothes were also in miserable condition. I dropped my jaw upon realization.

Children experiments.

The poisoned kid's entire cage shook as he delved into an epileptic fit, and fell to the floor with a loud clang. The man only observed quietly, ignoring the others' cries of protest. It didn't even take a minute until the kid stopped shaking and throwing up and lied still.

He's dead.

The man bent down, feeling the neck pulse with his fingers. "Still no good," he said with a sigh.

He just fucking killed a kid.

"Alright, who wants food?" As soon as he asked that, the other cages were shaking--almost simultaneously--and the children let out incomprehensible noises.

They can't speak.

The old man returned to the trolley and grabbed a small jar covered with cloth. He twisted the lid open and pulled out a small dead mouse. "Here you go." I held my breath as he dropped it into another cage with an awfully skinny girl in it, who jerked back in surprise. Then she jumped at the mouse and tore its head off sadistically.

I knew I shouldn't be looking at this, but my legs were frozen in place.

And she bit her teeth into it.

My stomach felt queasy, and I felt as if I was going to throw up. Her eyes were wide with joy as she chewed on it enthusiastically (as if she hadn't eaten in days), but I could see tears trickling down her cheeks. The man dropped more mice into the other cages, and before I knew it, the room was filled with crunching and slurping sounds. Unknowingly, I let out a loud gasp.

This is fucking sick.

I clamped my mouth shut in panic when I saw the man turn around slightly in my direction.

Oh, shit.

He started approaching the wall in suspicion.

I didn't see anything.

Before he could get any closer I gathered all my energy to rush back upstairs.

Get me out of here.

I didn't know where I was going, but I kept running.

They do experiments on children as well.

I felt as if my legs were moving on their own--I couldn't stop them.

Sooner or later I'll end up like them.

My breath quickened with each step, and everything was getting blurry. I stumbled across yet another generic-looking door.

Where the hell does this lead to?

Without a second thought, I opened it.

It was unexpected--the room was full of shelves of books and large quartos. It appeared to be a library.

For once, they have a normal-looking room.

I stepped inside slowly. There was no weird smell or anything (so it wasn't a therapy lab or something), and the dead silence implied as if I was the only one there (but I had to stay alert). My pulse was racing as I walked over to one of the tall shelves and pulled out a thick book. I read the big letters on the hard cover: 'AUSCHWITZ'.

Huh?

I was expecting it to be Korean, but when I flicked through the pages it appeared to be some other language (German, most likely). I stopped at a black-and-white picture of a man being drowned in a bathtub. His face was pale, and his eyes were white.

What the...?

The photographs on the following pages weren't less grisly. I cringed at the images of bony children, deformed bodies, bleeding organs--everything was too horrible for words that I had to slam it shut.

Why do they have such books?

As I returned it to the shelf, I looked at a few other titles written in English: The Count of Monte Cristo, The Monster Study, and Unit 731. Although I had no idea what those were, something was telling me that I'd better not open those books.

I don't want to know.

Then I saw a large pile of old newspapers on the bottom row of the shelf. The top paper showed two separate photographs of a small boy (it was slightly blurry) and a shabby-looking man with crewcut hairstyle. I squinted my eyes at the boy's picture, trying to recognize his face.

He seems familiar.

I read the newspaper headline: '7-Year-Old Boy Kidnapped & Starved For 3 Days'. Then my eyes went down to the caption under the photographs and read the three letters of the boy's name: 'Jang Hyunseung'.

Wait a minute.

I frowned.

Hyunseung?

I held the newspaper closer, observing his eyes and nose.

It can't possibly be...

I staggered back in shock.

No way.

But the boy in the photograph did resemble that anorexic kid. I skimmed through the details of the case and cringed.

What a fucked-up story.

I threw the paper in disgust.

So he had a corrupted childhood, too.

"Junhyung-ah!"

I grabbed the remote in alarm.

"Oi!"

I turned off the TV.

"Where the fuck are you?" She must be drunk again.

I rushed to the front door. She was standing there, another man holding her arms so she wouldn't lose her balance. She looked terrible, reeking of cigarette smell.

"Bring me some drinks!" she yelled when she saw me.

"I don't think you should drink anymore, love," the man told her. He gave me an apologetic smile. "Hey, kid."

I glared at him. Even this one couldn't take care of my slut of a mother.

"Just one more bottle," she said with a giggle. Then her expression turned into a scowl when she looked at me again. "Grab the six-pack from the fridge!"

I hesitated.

"Go on!"

I looked at the man, who didn't make an attempt to stop her at all (what a weak son of a bitch). Just like all the other men she'd brought home every other night, he was useless. Their type would do absolutely nothing good and leave her devastated in the morning.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Suddenly she took one of her high heels and threw it at me. I bit my lips as it hit my right leg, adding another bruise to my collection. "I said, get the fucking drinks from the fucking fridge!"

Without a word, I ran to my room and hid under the covers. I could clearly hear her loud cursing and angry screaming, even with the door shut.

One day, I would get out of this house.

I remembered how she was crying endlessly as she was hugging me on the day we learnt that my foolish father was arrested for getting into some deep shit with the loansharks (or something, I couldn't remember).

"Junhyung-ah, from now on we only have each other."

I hung my head back, feeling frustrated again.

"We have to survive together."

If only he didn't get jailed, then things would have been different.

That woman wouldn't have been drowning herself in alcohol.

But then I wouldn't have met HyunA.

I had lived a much better life with her.

Suddenly eyes caught another picture on the next newspaper in the pile. It was of a little boy with horrible attack wounds all over his body, lying next to a bed of water (river, I presumed).

A child murder?

I read the victim's name: 'Lee Kiwan'.

I've heard that somewhere before.

The newspaper was dated three years ago, and I wasn't sure if I had anything to do with that case.

Lee Kiwan?

While I tried to remember, I accidentally knocked over a large folder on the opposite shelf. Sighing, I bent down and grabbed the messy papers.

I hope no one heard that.

I froze at a particularly thick file, labelled with the word 'Room Eleven'.

What is this?

Lifting it off the floor slowly, I took a deep breath and opened it. I gasped when I saw Kikwang's photograph on the front page. There was a large word written with red ink above the picture: 'Bullying'.

So I was right.

I flicked through the file; it carried his full profile and life records, including family members as well as which schools he attended. It was much too detailed, in fact.

They spied on us.

Another series of papers on the floor had that Dongwoon kid's picture. I found that it contained exactly the same thing as Kikwang's, only the red phrase was 'Sexual Abuse'.

What the hell...?

I started to become panicked when I saw Doojoon ('Cutting') and that blonde kid's ('Dissociative') pictures were also in there.

Why?

I didn't bother reading through all their backgrounds. Hyunseung's 'Anorexia' was not surprising, however--but what sent shivers down my spine was that these pictures seemed to be taken candidly.

Who took them?

I stared at the last profile in fear.

It's me.

The word 'Hatred' was written in bold above a shot of me walking on the street.

What is that supposed to mean?

I scanned around the eerily silent room, suddenly feeling frightened.

This place...

I dropped the files to the floor again, my hands trembling. I made my way shakily towards the door.

Get out of here.

I felt as if my heart stop beating when someone burst in.

fanfiction, angst, b2st

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