Taemin's Tale [Oneshot]
Title: Taemin's Tale
Author: erodedveins
Rating: R (for swearing)
Genre: Angst, Horror
Pairing(s): 2min, Jongtae
Wordcount: 1262
A/N: To some degree inspired by Howard's Tale by Sick Puppies
Warning: Pedophilia, kidnapping
~~
"You will not walk away," he said calmly, smug in the knowledge that I would stay. So I sneered (my heart was beating way too fast, oh God I didn't think this through at all---) and got in the waiting car.
"Watch me," I watched his careful facade slip before I slammed the door. I locked it before he could get the handle open, and the taxi drove away as fast as possible. I looked through the back window at his shaking frame. It wasn't from sadness. It was rage, a much darker emotion.
"You'll be back, you ungrateful bastard!" I shivered and turned around tiredly. I was finally free.
~*~
That was some time ago. A couple of years, at least. I had changed my name since then, and found myself a nice boyfriend. I even looked different. But there was still a constant chill down my spine, like someone was following me. I never saw anyone, though that certainly didn't mean there wasn't someone there. I'd learned that the hard way.
He snatched me when I was 12. He was 21, I think. Somewhat older than me, at any rate. And as most people of his personality type do, he came from a bad background. He had an alcoholic father who used to bring in "fun toys" to play with. He had scars from all the lighter burns and stab wounds. He showed them to me during the time I was imprisoned. His mother wasn't a very nice person either, he told me. Her boyfriends weren't exactly kind men, and he usually couldn't walk the next day from all the pain in his back.
He never laid a hand on me when he was angry, though. Not once. He didn't have to, really. The abuse he put me through was, in some ways, worse because of that. Mostly because no one believes I ever suffered abuse at all, since there are no physical wounds to show for it (at least, not lasting physical wounds).
"Your mother put you up for adoption for a reason, Taemin. And do you know why it is? Because she didn't want you. I took you because I do want you, Taemin. Doesn't that make you happy?" was one of the things he'd hit me with. I would lie, and nod my head though I eventually came to believe that it was true (I still secretly do despite all the therapy I've had). And then I didn't have to lie, which I was grateful for. He was good at telling when I was lying. It was almost like a sixth sense.
"Taemin I love you. Don't you love me?" "If you love me, Taemin, you'll do this for Minho-appa," "Kill him, Taemin. He didn't love you like I do." "I'm disappointed in you, Taemin. You never do as I ask, and all I ever ask is that you obey me. Is it really so hard?" Also things he brainwashed me with. I eventually came to believe that I was a throw-away. No one had ever loved me like Minho-appa, and no one would ever love me as much as he did. My spirit was very nearly broken when I managed to escape.
He started letting me go outside (because he was no longer afraid I would try to run, I guess) when I was around 19. I think. In that hellhole I was forced to call a home, I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. He made sure there was nothing in the house with a date on it, for whatever reason.
At first I couldn't stay out for very long because the sunlight hurt my eyes, so used to artificial light. But as my tolerance for sunlight increased, so did my anger. The people I saw on the streets every day were so... free. I didn't even remember the last time I'd been really free. The people behind the counters in grocery stores (because I was never allowed to go into the same one twice) always commented on how pale I was, saying I needed a little more sunlight.
I wanted very badly to tell them what had happened to me, but it was like there was an invisible shield between my mouth and the outside world. I couldn't say a word, and it frustrated me almost to the point of tears(Oh, how he loved to see my tears. He always got hard from it. And then the "fun" began). Of course, he should've been smart enough to realize that it was only a matter of time.
On the days that I went outside, I memorized as many street names and taxi numbers as I could. I knew Minho had the house phone tapped, so even if he wasn't home he could listen to my telephone conversations. And the house had cameras in every room. But if I could just get his cell phone and go outside...
At it was, it wound up being a lot easier than I thought. Through the years, he's gone soft. I slipped a display phone I'd lifted from the nearest electronic shop into his pocket while he was sleeping (since the pig made me sleep in the same bed as him) and he never noticed the difference. The next day, it was easy as pie to arrange a taxi to pick me up. He wasn't home, and wouldn't be for several hours. I think he said something about meeting a teacher to further my education, but I wasn't sure.
So I packed my things and made sure not to take anything with me that reminded me of him. If I could've bought a whole new wardrobe, I would have. But I didn't have much money (what money I had was what I'd stolen from his stash in the mattress). I was waiting outside for the taxi to arrive when I noticed him rounding the corner. His eyes widened when they took in the bag near my feet.
He approached me, and I tensed up. I was past ready to leave, to get away from him as fast as possible. But he didn't say a word. At least, not until the taxi arrived.
~*~
I came home from my shopping trip and smiled warmly at my boyfriend. Jonghyun was a wonderful man. Kind, understanding, respectful of my personal boundaries. I loved him, I think. And I know for sure he loved me. He was always doing cheesy things for me, such as bringing me home flowers and a singing card for no reason at all. Or attempting to make dinner.
Jonghyun was an elementary teacher, and sometimes I would visit him on break to bring him a lunch box. He was forgetful(and I was too, admittedly), and often forgot to grab his on the way out the door.
It was on one of these trips that I noticed the little boy, who couldn't possibly have been more than 10, in the back of the classroom. He stared at me, and I stared back at him, feeling an emotion I refused to name well up in me. I didn't bother to answer Jonghyun's questioning gaze, I just rushed out of the school. I only stopped when I was back in mine and Jonghyun's shared apartment.
I sobbed and screamed and cursed Minho's name. Even now I couldn't escape him. The lust I felt for that boy.. I knew that was because of Minho. I fucking knew it. And I had no idea what to do about it.
Author: erodedveins
Rating: R (for swearing)
Genre: Angst, Horror
Pairing(s): 2min, Jongtae
Wordcount: 1262
A/N: To some degree inspired by Howard's Tale by Sick Puppies
Warning: Pedophilia, kidnapping
~~
"You will not walk away," he said calmly, smug in the knowledge that I would stay. So I sneered (my heart was beating way too fast, oh God I didn't think this through at all---) and got in the waiting car.
"Watch me," I watched his careful facade slip before I slammed the door. I locked it before he could get the handle open, and the taxi drove away as fast as possible. I looked through the back window at his shaking frame. It wasn't from sadness. It was rage, a much darker emotion.
"You'll be back, you ungrateful bastard!" I shivered and turned around tiredly. I was finally free.
~*~
That was some time ago. A couple of years, at least. I had changed my name since then, and found myself a nice boyfriend. I even looked different. But there was still a constant chill down my spine, like someone was following me. I never saw anyone, though that certainly didn't mean there wasn't someone there. I'd learned that the hard way.
He snatched me when I was 12. He was 21, I think. Somewhat older than me, at any rate. And as most people of his personality type do, he came from a bad background. He had an alcoholic father who used to bring in "fun toys" to play with. He had scars from all the lighter burns and stab wounds. He showed them to me during the time I was imprisoned. His mother wasn't a very nice person either, he told me. Her boyfriends weren't exactly kind men, and he usually couldn't walk the next day from all the pain in his back.
He never laid a hand on me when he was angry, though. Not once. He didn't have to, really. The abuse he put me through was, in some ways, worse because of that. Mostly because no one believes I ever suffered abuse at all, since there are no physical wounds to show for it (at least, not lasting physical wounds).
"Your mother put you up for adoption for a reason, Taemin. And do you know why it is? Because she didn't want you. I took you because I do want you, Taemin. Doesn't that make you happy?" was one of the things he'd hit me with. I would lie, and nod my head though I eventually came to believe that it was true (I still secretly do despite all the therapy I've had). And then I didn't have to lie, which I was grateful for. He was good at telling when I was lying. It was almost like a sixth sense.
"Taemin I love you. Don't you love me?" "If you love me, Taemin, you'll do this for Minho-appa," "Kill him, Taemin. He didn't love you like I do." "I'm disappointed in you, Taemin. You never do as I ask, and all I ever ask is that you obey me. Is it really so hard?" Also things he brainwashed me with. I eventually came to believe that I was a throw-away. No one had ever loved me like Minho-appa, and no one would ever love me as much as he did. My spirit was very nearly broken when I managed to escape.
He started letting me go outside (because he was no longer afraid I would try to run, I guess) when I was around 19. I think. In that hellhole I was forced to call a home, I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. He made sure there was nothing in the house with a date on it, for whatever reason.
At first I couldn't stay out for very long because the sunlight hurt my eyes, so used to artificial light. But as my tolerance for sunlight increased, so did my anger. The people I saw on the streets every day were so... free. I didn't even remember the last time I'd been really free. The people behind the counters in grocery stores (because I was never allowed to go into the same one twice) always commented on how pale I was, saying I needed a little more sunlight.
I wanted very badly to tell them what had happened to me, but it was like there was an invisible shield between my mouth and the outside world. I couldn't say a word, and it frustrated me almost to the point of tears(Oh, how he loved to see my tears. He always got hard from it. And then the "fun" began). Of course, he should've been smart enough to realize that it was only a matter of time.
On the days that I went outside, I memorized as many street names and taxi numbers as I could. I knew Minho had the house phone tapped, so even if he wasn't home he could listen to my telephone conversations. And the house had cameras in every room. But if I could just get his cell phone and go outside...
At it was, it wound up being a lot easier than I thought. Through the years, he's gone soft. I slipped a display phone I'd lifted from the nearest electronic shop into his pocket while he was sleeping (since the pig made me sleep in the same bed as him) and he never noticed the difference. The next day, it was easy as pie to arrange a taxi to pick me up. He wasn't home, and wouldn't be for several hours. I think he said something about meeting a teacher to further my education, but I wasn't sure.
So I packed my things and made sure not to take anything with me that reminded me of him. If I could've bought a whole new wardrobe, I would have. But I didn't have much money (what money I had was what I'd stolen from his stash in the mattress). I was waiting outside for the taxi to arrive when I noticed him rounding the corner. His eyes widened when they took in the bag near my feet.
He approached me, and I tensed up. I was past ready to leave, to get away from him as fast as possible. But he didn't say a word. At least, not until the taxi arrived.
~*~
I came home from my shopping trip and smiled warmly at my boyfriend. Jonghyun was a wonderful man. Kind, understanding, respectful of my personal boundaries. I loved him, I think. And I know for sure he loved me. He was always doing cheesy things for me, such as bringing me home flowers and a singing card for no reason at all. Or attempting to make dinner.
Jonghyun was an elementary teacher, and sometimes I would visit him on break to bring him a lunch box. He was forgetful(and I was too, admittedly), and often forgot to grab his on the way out the door.
It was on one of these trips that I noticed the little boy, who couldn't possibly have been more than 10, in the back of the classroom. He stared at me, and I stared back at him, feeling an emotion I refused to name well up in me. I didn't bother to answer Jonghyun's questioning gaze, I just rushed out of the school. I only stopped when I was back in mine and Jonghyun's shared apartment.
I sobbed and screamed and cursed Minho's name. Even now I couldn't escape him. The lust I felt for that boy.. I knew that was because of Minho. I fucking knew it. And I had no idea what to do about it.