stockholm
stockholm
exo ; kaisoo ; pg-13 ; [ when you kidnapped me, you expected me to love a monster. And I did. ] | part i
/
It's funny, I'd say, how this all happened. I have to ask; did you plan it? Did you really follow me when I didn't notice, write my schedule down in a little notebook while you hid in the bushes? Jot notes with everything I did, everything I bought, everything I liked? It amazes me to think of how it went all accordingly, like you expected it the whole time. And it scares me.
I remember when we first met. Well, when I first met you. I don't know about you. You must've lied about that too, now that I think about it. It certainly wasn't the first time you saw me.
I sat in a corner in the park by myself. Life was long and boring in the orphanage. You already know about my parents - you must have stolen records or something, I don't know. My mother died when I was born, from lack or something or the other. My father spent a week with me before throwing me out. You know this. I know you do. I don't know much about my parents, never did. For me, all there ever was were my orphaned brothers and the brick house we shared.
I would tell you their names, but there's so many of them. We're a family. We love each other. It's more than I could have ever said for you.
Anyway, I was reading in the park. My books were open in front of me, and I was studying for a test that I had next week. School was such a bitch, wasn't it? Even when you're legal, it still haunts you. It doesn't matter; it's not like you ever went to school anyway. Your spelling is horrible.
But you were so charming that first time. I was working on my Literature project and you just walked boy, leaned down and said softly, "They're not going to fall in love until the end of the book, when he's about to get married."
I was so surprised that I jumped and almost fell back into the bushes. Remember? You reached out and grabbed me before I could fall. Warm fingers around my wrist. A shuffle in your legs that made me think of you like a cute kid. Well, until I got a good look at you, at your brown-like-tanned-sun eyes and curving smile, and then I thought that you were certainly more than just a cute kid.
"Thanks for spoiling the ending," I had said, smiling. "Now I'll have to read the rest of the book knowing what's going to happen anyway."
That's how we met. You standing over me, the sun shining on your back, me sitting down like an idiot, entranced by you. I never should have been. I don't regret it.
You laughed, a small, quiet laugh that made me strain my ears to hear more. I liked the sound of your voice, deep and pleasing, shy and hidden behind a wall. "Well, sorry." Your eyes twinkled and told me you weren't sorry at all. "I just saw you with that book and you looked so focused. Guess it was a sort of instinctive thing to tell you about it."
When I look back, there's nothing different about you, no matter how many times I run it through my mind. You were always the same, smiling charmingly, making me want to follow you where ever you went. Was that what you were going for? Did you stand in front of the mirror and practice? Your acting was flawless, I had to say. Perfect ten.
I scoffed. "Thanks. Now I have to go reread it." But I didn't really mean it. I think you knew that too. For a second, your eyes flickered somewhere - next to me, behind me, I don't know - and then you looked at me again, stuffing your hands in your pockets. I thought that you had really nice arms.
"I guess I'll just have to make it up to you, then," you said. You tilted your head and quirked up the side of your mouth. "Coffee?"
"I'm more of a tea person." Smooth, you were. Very. I was almost charmed. "But sure, why not?" Okay, so maybe I was charmed. Could you blame me? Your acting was perfect. I mentioned that before, didn't I? You didn't seem nervous. Your hands weren't sweaty when you offered to help me up. You towered a good head over me (something that picked on my nerves) and walked confidently, like you expected me by your side all along.
Maybe you did. Maybe I was the messed up one.
It was a sunny day. I remember because I had a hard time choosing whether to go out or not; it was too hot for me to survive, it seemed. There would be at least sixteen hours of sunshine, and my roommate - do you know him too? Chanyeol? - was complaining that he couldn't do anything in the garage he worked at. The metal burned him to the touch.
I think I understood how he felt. You were so close, and your fingertips brushed mine a lot. I didn't know how much I would hate how it feel later on. At the time, I was excited. Giddy. I didn't get hit on a lot, because people thought that I was some emotionless twit. So I liked the attention. If only I learned how to be a real cold hearted person, maybe this wouldn't have happened.
The line was fairly short. The inside smelled like donuts and chocolate. I immediately liked the place, especially because it filtered through with such sunlight. It looked like a nice place to relax, and in my head, I gave you brownie points for that.
"Just tea, right?" you asked. I looked to the menu and you continued, saying, "I'll pay."
"Nah, that's alright," I replied, but inside I was chuckling. You were too nice then. You were always too nice that it should've made me suspicious, but it didn't. "I'll pay for mine. I mean, you took me to this gorgeous place already."
"I insist," you continued. "I mean, I did ruin your book for you."
I opened my mouth to say that the book wasn't really all the goddamn important, but then you gave me that look. This puppy dog look that made your face look all pouty even though you weren't pouting and I was powerless against it. Chanyeol did it too, and I could never say no to him forget you.
"Okay," I said instead. "But - "
"Go sit," you motioned to a random table, this time smiling so wide that your grin threatened to break off your face. "I'll be right there. Any preferences?"
"One sugar, two spoons of milk."
Is that when you did it? When I was sitting by the window, placing my book down? It wouldn't have been hard, I guess. To slip a little white packet from your pocket and put it in the cup. What was that, anyway? Some sort of drug? Because I hated it. I think that I won't be able to drink tea for a long time now because of you.
It took about ten minutes. You came by with a dish and teacup on it and another, a white coffee mug with creamy froth on top. You put it to your lips and took a sip; I blew on the top of mine.
"So," you began, "I'm very sorry for spoiling your evening...?" Your question asked for a name. You probably knew it already.
"Kyungsoo," I said. "Do Kyungsoo."
"Kyungsoo," you repeated softly, like a breath in between your lips. Then you smiled. "I'm Jongin."
Your smile seemed a little distorted then.
"You live around here?" you asked, in that small, pleasing voice. I nodded, but for some reason it was starting to get hard to focus. Each time I blinked, colours began to flash; they became brighter, mixing together, faded out everything else.
"A few blocks away," I muttered, but it felt like the world was swaying. Couldn't you have afforded a better drug? Maybe something that wouldn't have made me feel so sick? It was like being on a rocking boat. Thinking back on it, maybe if you had given me something that knocked me out immediately, it would be too obvious. That would be bad for you, wouldn't it?
At this point, you were saying something. Probably making some useless conversation to keep me going. Like an idiot, I kept on drinking that stupid tea. The more it went down my throat, the more I wanted it, and the more of a drug addict I felt like. Only a few things you said went through; a question about my favourite colour. Whether or not I liked the shop. And then, a worried stare.
"I don't feel too good," I finally told you. That was when you sprang up. Anxious, you were, to have me in your clutches. "I - I think - "
"Here, let me help you," your garbled words cut through my muddled brain. Aimlessly, I reached out for something and knocked over a cup. I felt like hurling, and then you were holding me. Your hands were firmly put on my arms as I stood up and you tucked me to your side, like a child. I heard you talking to someone, an official with a concerned face. He was worried about me too. What did you tell him? Probably that I was sick and that you were taking me home.
Except you weren't.
Next thing I know, I'm being shoved into the backseat of a car. A nice one, at that - I remember the leather seats feeling nice under my fingers, and the scent of soap and shampoo. It burned my nostrils, and I heard the car rumble.
Something touched my hair, smoothing it down. "Hold on, Kyungsoo. I won't hurt you."
Then I remember nothing.
/
I woke up in a semi-lit room. My head felt heavy, like someone had opened it up and poured lead in it. My vision blurred momentarily before clearing; I was laying down on a bed, staring up at a wooden ceiling. Pink light filtered through the room from one window on the opposite side. I sat up and looked around, noticing that the room was pretty much empty save for a dresser, a table and chair, and a bookshelf with only the top shelf filled. My bookbag was slumped against the leg of the chair.
I swung my legs off the bed and my feet touched something grisly and soft. Underneath was a throw rug. I felt off-balance, like the wind was knocked from under my feet, and I grabbed at the dresser's corner as a wave of nausea passed through me.
The door opened and I stepped back, startled, and tripped over my own two feet. Hands gripped my biceps, steadying me, and I looked up to see that it was you. "Oh, you're awake."
It happened then. Freezing, I could only stare you in horror for a second. Even then, you were handsome; your eyes, depths of endless, earthy brown, trapped me for a second, it really did. But then my memory fed me images of soggy tea, sun disappearing behind the horizon. And I realized that I wasn't exactly at the tea shop. Or anywhere that I recognized.
So I screamed.
It shocked you, how loud and how shrill it came out. Hell, it shocked me too, but it was enough for you to loosen your grip. I started flailing, kicking, punching with all my strength - I didn't know where it came from, really. I was always the calm one, and I didn't like violence. But I felt as if it was necessary in this situation. At the moment, all I wanted was you off me.
Eventually you got the point when I kicked in a certain place. Keeling over, you stepped away and I crawled back on the bed, fear shooting through me like a sharp needle. I stared at your form as you stood up, pain flickering across your features, and inside I felt a little pang of victory.
"I won't hurt you, Kyungsoo," you pleaded, your voice sincere. It didn't fool me, though. I was getting my footing back, and I quickly slotted you where you belonged - a kidnapper. It was obvious that I wasn't where I used to be. "Please. You need to drink some water to make that drug wear off."
"And who's fault is that?" my voice was hoarse and scratchy, and I sounded like a drowned kitten. "What are - get away from me! No, get away!" You started to come closer, but I wouldn't let you. With every ounce of energy in my body I deflected you and your hands, your warm eyes.
"You have to understand - "
"Don't touch me!"
"I won't hurt you!" You tried, it showed. You looked like a helpless puppy, but I wanted to kick you again. You took me away from my family, my friends, my life. You stole me from underneath my feet and you expected me to trust you. But the only thing I felt for you at the moment was hate. Pure, unadulterated hate.
I think you saw what I was feeling, betrayed by my shaking body and weak glare. Your hand, outstretched to me in mid-air, stopped suddenly, and you looked at me, at how I was acting, and then you pressed your lips together. You looked mad for a brief second, but then it disappeared and you bowed your head. And then you got up and left.
Even with you gone, I was still tense. My body felt as wound up as a clock, my hands clammy. I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself, but it wouldn't work. I huddled against a corner of the flat bed, looking around to get a better grip of where I was.
After a few minutes of intensely studying everything (there was a layer of dust everywhere, I remembered) I got up to try and look around. Maybe there was a loose floorboard or something. At that moment my eyes caught the window, and in a blind flurry of hope, I reached out to open it. It was locked, of course, and on closer inspection the glass was grimy and dirty. But I could still see outside.
It was a barren wasteland, where you had taken me. There was only warehouses and broken buildings, and there seemed to be no one in sight. The sun was just rising in the sky, and I wondered how long I was out. Hands pressed up against the glass, I guess I was lucky that you hadn't tied me to the bed or anything. Now that would have really set me off.
After staring at the tree-less landscape and the rocky earth, I turned around and felt my body drain of energy. Still, I looked around for anything that could help me escape. I dug through the dresser, but the only thing in there were clothes. Shirts, jackets, wifebeaters, jeans, boxers. You really thought of everything. How long did you dream of this?
I shut the drawers and stumbled back into bed. The books would be of no help, and the table didn't have any drawers. I already knew what was in my bag, and none of it was important. God, I didn't even have my laptop and my phone was no doubt removed. I curled up on the mattress, hearing the place creak as I moved. The walls were a dull blue patterned with small flowers. I hated the room already.
Just then, the door opened and you came in. There was a tray in your hands and I could see food on it too. You looked at me and then smiled, but it was a sort of awkward, strained smile, not the confident one you gave me back at the coffee shop. "You need to eat, or else your body will fold in on itself," you said, placing the tray in front of me while I didn't move. "I also have some medicine to fend off the effects of the drug."
Mention of what you did snapped me out of my trance. Hearing the words come out of your mouth made it real. Even now, I felt the tremors of fear shake me, deep to the core. It felt cold all of a sudden, so terribly cold, and your eyes turned into half-moons of worry.
"See, you're already feeling bad. Eat. And then take this." You popped out one little pill from a bottle, one I recognized as pain killers. So at least you weren't lying about that. Maybe you had poisoned them too. Actually, you probably didn't. You wanted me alive, after all.
It didn't matter. My head was so messed up at the time that I took them without question. It helped - the pain had gone almost immediately, and I sighed, relieved. Then, perhaps in a stupid move, I looked at the tray in your arms. There was a side bowl of kimchi and rice, a few vegetables, but that was it. My stomach twisted at the sight; I was hungry...but I was more afraid of you at the time, more diffused in my hate.
"You weren't supposed to take that first," you said, frowning. "Now you're only going to feel worse. You need food in your stomach."
"What does it matter to you?" I spat out, shaking. "You're - you're going to do something to me anyway, right? Kill me? Torture me? What does it matter?" I'd rather starve than be prisoner in your hands.
"Oh, Kyungsoo," you look so sad that if I was aware of anything then, I would've felt bad. "I won't hurt you, didn't I say?" But I didn't answer you. In fact, one glance at your face made me want to throw up again, so I didn't look. I didn't say a word, but huddled up in my small corner again, turning my head away from you. I still felt the weight of your eyes boring against my head.
It was a few minutes before I felt lightheaded. When I blinked, the world seemed to spin, and at that time I was slipping into panic. What if you really had given me something other than a painkiller and I had taken it without knowing? What if my logic had failed me and I was going to die right here? But then my stomach gave a pang and I realized that it was just the hunger clawing away at my insides.
Your eyes probably flickered down to my belly when it made that noise. I'm pretty sure that my cheeks flared in embarrassment and fury for making me seem weak, hardheaded when all I wanted you to do was leave. But you, you just had to go and talk, be all soft about it. It would've been better if you had been smug, victorious, even angry. Then I could blame you for it.
"Kyungsoo," you tried instead, voice desperate. "Please, you have to eat." And maybe, just maybe, I felt a tinge of satisfaction of hearing you sound like that. You sounded like if I didn't eat, the world would end for you. Everything would be taken from right under you, and you would have no foundation to stand on; nothing to support you. And I wanted you to feel that way. Wanted you to feel the exact same thing that I was feeling.
I pressed my lips together and thought of disgusting things; Chanyeol after his breakfast, Chanyeol parading around in his underwear, Chanyeol bringing his goddamn boyfriend home and not bothering to close the door at night...
The last one did it for me, and with a literal drop, I felt my hunger go away. I turned away from him and faced the wall, exposing my back to your face and stared, focused, on one spot until I went cross-eyed. I refused to eat from you. I refused to trust you with anything that would enter my mouth.
Finally, you seemed to get the message, and with one painful-sounding sigh, you got up from the chair you pulled over. I heard you footsteps fall until the creak of the door followed afterward, and just when I thought you would leave, you turned around and said, "I'm leaving the food here. Eat it. Please." And you left.
When you did, I felt my shoulders drop in relief. Immediately I turned around and started to stand up only to find my legs asleep and the food right in front of me. I have to say, nothing seemed more tempting than that at the moment. I didn't know how long I was out, but it seemed like weeks, and my insides were raging at me for food. I didn't know how kimchi and rice could look so good, but it did, and my hand was only a inch away from the chopsticks when I realized what I was doing.
I was eating. Eating! Food, from you, you the monster, the kidnapper. In a blind fit I shoved my hand aside and the bowl slid off the tray messily, sending everything to the floor. There was a loud crash and the sound of my own heavy breathing until the door slammed open and I jumped a mile high, but it was only you, your eyes wild and mouth opened wide -
Then you saw the mess on the floor, the chopsticks askew, and your eyes turned hard and flat. I felt a jolt of terror shoot through me at that look; for a second, I was comforted in the fact that you were just a huge softie, that you were just a conniving person who wouldn't hurt me until I played to your mind games. But it didn't seem like you would hurt me. In that second, I realized that if I pushed you enough, you would.
Quietly shivering in my own clothes, I watched as you pressed your lips into a tight line and cleaned up the whole mess. When you left I was still blinking, dazed, and then you came back with a wicker basket.
Taking large strides you crossed over to where I was and grabbed my hand. I was so stunned that I didn't have time to respond, but when you brought it up to your face I began to move back again - only to have you squeeze my wrist.
"Stop," you said, and the tone of your voice made me freeze. It was kind, but the tone underneath it seemed like a sharpened blade ready to cut. "You're hurt. You need to stop before it gets worse."
And, like you said, there was a cut there that I didn't notice before, bleeding slightly. You cleaned up the would and applied something that stung before wrapping a bandage around it.
As you were rolling the white strip around my shaking hand, you began to talk. "If you want to leave your room, the door's open." Once more, your voice took on that soft quality. "You can walk around the building, if you'd like. The downstairs are more of a mess that the upstairs." You started to tie the bandage. "You can try to run all you want outside," you nodded to the window, "But you'll find nothing. There's only broken city for miles. And miles."
"You must've gotten here somehow," He had to bring me here but some form of transportation. And that could get me out, too. "Someone should see this place."
But you just shook your head, like I was a stupid child. "It's an abandoned city. I lit up the car that I used to take you here."
"But...but you need supplies. Food, water, clothes - " I was getting desperate.
"I have enough stored," you replied shortly.
"Enough?"
"For years."
I don't think you understood how I felt at that moment. Flashes of reports from when I was eating breakfast on the morning table passed through my head, pictures of young boys and girls that were stolen and never returned, their files closed only to be found ten, twelve years later when they had the guts to kill their kidnapper. There was a sort of chill that settled into my bones at the finality of your words.
I think that some part of me died at that. I raised my head to take a good look at you for once in the whole day, and you were staring at me with that awfully affectionate expression adorning your face; you looked at me as if a puppy would to it's beloved master. And it scared it. It scared me to the point of hysteria.
"Years..." I repeated, my voice nothing more than a sodden whisper. "No, n-no...someone will come. Someone will come." But even as I said those words, they didn't ring true, not even to my own ears. "Someone will come."
You smiled that dreamy smile all the way out the door.
/
To be honest, it was only those first few days that I remember well. The fear, the pain, the anger flooding through me like a disease. Seeing only your face and not daring to go beyond the door to my room. I don't know - I guess I was scared of what I would find beyond that. No escape. My illusion of finding a way out of here would be shattered, and I couldn't handle that.
I still refused food from you, shattered another bowl before you brought plastic plates, bowls, and glasses. I always forced myself to look into your eyes to see that same dark look like I had before, but it seemed as though you hid it away. I never saw you get angry or annoyed or impatient. It pissed me off, how you were so kind, gentle. It made me seem like the bad guy whenever you cleaned up my mess.
Eventually you forced food into my mouth. I remember the first time you did it; your cheeks looked gaunt and it seemed as though you didn't eat as long as I did. But you had taken rice and kimchi, taken my chin in your hands, and opened my mouth. I swallowed it too easily for my own good, but I managed to get a hold of myself after the first four bites. I wouldn't eat from you. I wouldn't dare.
The moments you force-fed me were the only times I got nutrition. I could feel my body shrink up, skin clinging to bones and my stomach becoming smaller and smaller each day. I couldn't look at food without feeling hungry, and then sick. You were using it against me, some part of my twisted mind told me, and I hated you for flaunting the food in my face. Hated you for caring so much when I despised you.
It was a week before I realized something.
You told me many times that you "wouldn't hurt me". And so far, you really had done nothing to do anything. The most I ever did was move around in my room and change my clothes, because you forced me to. You still couldn't get me to take a bath, though, but I knew there was water - how else would you have made rice? And why there was running water here was beyond me.
But I had an idea. If you were so smitten, so caring as you said, you wouldn't hurt me. And I decided that I would use that to my advantage. I would play you against yourself and get out of here.
That was my first mistake.
/
I decided to put my plan in action the next time you came with food. You always came at the exact same times - before the sun rose and after it set - to give me food. Other than that, you really didn't do much except for watch my back as I turned away from you. At least now I was used to the feeling. It was like you weren't even there anymore. Oh, how I wished.
It made me sick just to think about talking to you. How did I even bear speaking to you in the coffee shop and liking it? But I had to force myself. It was for my survival.
So when you came in with my food, I looked up from my bed. There was a permanent indentation from where I sat most of the time, I swear. But I stared at you for a while from beneath my lashes, and you didn't seem to notice. You went on with you regular schedule; pulled up a chair, sat about a half a foor away from my bed, and placed the tray down. And then you looked up at me to beg me once more to eat.
But this time I beat you to it.
I forced myself to look in your direction, even though I couldn't help but want to curl up on myself. Every fiber of my being was telling me to protect myself from you, but I told my mind that I had to let down the guards. Just for a while, so that I could get into your good side (not that it would be too hard) and find some way out of here. There couldn't have been only one car here, right? Thank god I knew how to drive. I could escape. I could.
You seemed to get over the shock of me staring at you. I don't know what my eyes expressed, but I knew that it was everything opposite than what I was going to do.
"Kyungsoo," you began like you always did, "Eat. Please."
And for the first time, I listened.
Silently, I picked up the bowl and the chopsticks, my fingers trembling. It felt like such a long time since I last ate, and I'm not proud to say that as soon as the first morsel touched my lips, I practically inhaled the bowl. When I managed to lower it the next thing my eyes caught was the glass of water on the tray and I grabbed that greedily too, gulping it all down, feeling the cool liquid sliding down my throat.
When I was finished, I was breathing slightly heavily, but it seemed as though I was just fine. Almost timidly, I brought up my head to face you wearily. I suddenly felt heavy, like someone who had been dropped in an ocean thirty feet above air with a weight tied to his ankle.
But you, you were staring at me with something like wonder and worry. "You...ate," you said, sounding relieved, like the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders. "But you ate too fast - Kyungsoo, you're going to - "
My stomach lurched, and I felt bile rise in my throat. Quickly I reached over the side of the bed and felt all the rice escape from my stomach, not given enough time to digest, not given enough room to fit. My body rejected food, I thought dimly as more came up and on to the floor. Barely, I recognized someone's hand patting my back. It rejected food. What did you do to me?
It wasn't your fault, actually. One thing that wasn't. I refused to eat, which made it hard for me to accept food, I understand that. But I still blamed you anyway. I guess it was because if you had never kidnapped me in the first place, none of this would have been happening, would it?
I felt dizzy and drunk after I was done. There was a mess on the floor, but I didn't pay attention to it as I brought myself to sit up straight, slugging off your hand at the same time. Immediately, I felt cold, but it was better than knowing that you were touching me. The world began to spin and the dull blue of the walls blurred together - I think I saw your face, hovering over me, but I couldn't tell. And then I remember passing out.
When I woke up, I was in a different room. The lighting was different. The furniture, the walls, the lights. There was a more cared look about it. Like someone preserved the whole place in a neat, macabre package.
Then you were right there, sleeping a large armchair beside me. For a moment, I just looked at you. You were defenseless, alone, right in front of me. I had a fleeting thought of getting something sharp - or heavy - and just -
But then I shook my head, holding it in my hands, and groaned lightly. I wasn't a killer. I wasn't going to be someone like you.
There was the faint smell of food, though, and I realized there was a covered plate placed on the side table next to the headboard of the bed. It was certainly much nicer than the other room I was given. It didn't smell like rice and kimchi, though, but something else. I don't know - my nostrils have been dulled from the scent of dust and old paper.
That was the time you decided to wake up. Your eyes fluttered awake and the last rays of the sun hit your face as you realized that I was awake too. I had a passing thought - you really were handsome, you know. But it meant nothing, because as good-looking as your face was, I abhorred the sight of it even more.
"Your up," you breathed. "That's good. You ate too fast, Kyungsoo, and then you threw up. You should eat slower next time." You reached around and picked up the bowl slowly, as if it would drop, and removed the lid. It was a stew of some sort, with different foods put in.
"Here," you put it on a small tray like the one from before, and set a spoon next to it. You didn't say anything more, just sat there and watched me.
I put a spoonful in my mouth, and as soon as it touched my lips I spit it out.
You were up in an instant. "What happened? Do you feel like - "
"This tastes horrible," I said hoarsely, pushing it away. I knew that this was no time and place, but I couldn't help it. "You can't cook at all."
And for a moment, everything was set back in time. It was like I was with my family, telling my brother that he couldn't cook to save his life, helping my mother cut the vegetables as she stir-fried them. Chanyeol, creating a mess in the kitchen when he wanted to create a birthday cake for his boyfriend. All the family and friends that I ever had.
And before I knew it, there was something slipping out of my eyes, falling into the soup. There was an ache in me that I couldn't stop, a dark hole tearing at my insides. How did my parents take the news? My brother? My roommate and closest friend?
You were hugging me after that. Whispering words into my ear, calming me. But when I kept crying and crying, this little black ball began to form in me. You were the reason that all this happened. If only you had left me alone. If only you had never taken me.
If only I had never followed you. If only I had never let you get my drink, fallen for your charms. If only, if only, if only.
When I came to, I wasn't done sobbing, but I still pushed you away. It was a good five minutes, though, and I decided that the horizon of my grief couldn't be expressed in words if I sank as low as seeking comfort from you, even subconsciously. I pushed you away and hugged my knees.
There was nothing to be said. I felt my throat choking up, and you seemed to be unable to understand why I was crying. I suppose in your brain, everything was fine. I was supposed to come and enjoy your attention, like the way that you fawned over me, forget about the dilapidated scenery around me.
"Kyungsoo..."
"I won't eat that," I told you immediately. "I refuse. It tastes horrible." I still sounded coarse, like I had been screaming. Maybe I was. Maybe no one could hear me.
"Where's the kitchen?" I focused on the lines on my palms. "I'm going to make something. I won't eat that... that...whatever that is."
It was an excuse to get out of here. I knew it. Maybe you knew it. But I needed something different, something away from this room. The whole place unnerved me. You unnerved me. But you didn't seem to notice my claustrophobic measures; instead you jumped up and nodded enthusiastically.
"I can show you," you babbled, and you reached out your hand to reach mine. I flinched, but then told myself that it was fine and convinced myself all the way that I could always knee you where it hurts, even if it might make you mad. "It's over here. The bathroom is over there, by the way, water works fine - and if you want something to read - "
"Just show me the damn kitchen," I snapped, and removed my hand. You fell quiet immediately.
It was an okay place, I guess. The tiles were dirty and it seemed as though everything wilted in a single glance. There was no fridge, which made me wonder where you got the vegetables from. A garden? There was no electricity either, but there was a gas stove, and you said that there was water. I pulled away and moved forward, feeling my legs jam up as I did so. Even still, I made myself not care. Not be afraid though I was terrified.
"This place is all yours," you said, and then walked away. I know you glanced at me, too. Your eyes flickered to the knife set laid flat on the edge of the counter. I knew that you knew that I was thinking; if I could take one and stab you, everything would be over.
But I wasn't stupid, and you knew that too. If you were gone, then I had no way out of here. I didn't know where anything was, I didn't know how anything worked. I would die slowly, painfully, and that was much worse than anything that you could have done to me at the time. So you know I wouldn't kill you. And I wouldn't. I would abandon you.
But, even as you left, I slipped the smallest knife - a switchblade; there was really all types of random knives there, from hunting ones to shearing - in my pocket. It made me feel safer, somehow. Like I could fight back.
And with shaking hands, I opened the cabinet doors.
I was not going to fall for your sick game.
/
part ii