Punishment (Special)

AN: Hi. Thanks for waiting. I'll post the next chapter in....I don't know. But hopefully, not more than two weeks. Maximum of three. Until then, enjoy this one:

Jungkook's perspective:

Long ago, when I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach the higher shelves of the stores, my older brother fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. It was in the frozen food section. Hence, I was not only confused and worried, but also shivering.

Jung wasn't sick, nor did he show any signs of feeling ill at the time.

Perhaps if it had any logical explanation, I wouldn't have started getting anxious about the possibility of another dizzy spell when we'd go to the store. Which used to happen a lot. Especially if it wasn't cold outside.

If he had as much as a headache that day, and we were in the supermarket, I'd get palpitations.

And one day, after months of his head staying parallel to the ground, I've fainted instead.

I still believe it was due to the anxiety I'd get from being in the store with him. Or around people in general.

Either way, my brain made me believe that someone might faint if they're in a store.

Cause it wasn't them. It was the store's fault.

I was very young and yet, when I've fainted, I was surprised about how uneventful it was. Like I went to sleep for a moment and awoke to worried faces.

Now, we no longer go to the store together. But I've fainted in stores multiple times. And I didn't see the connection until today. A day in which the sky was showering the earth with big, fast drops. And I went inside one of the many first floor's stores because it had a roof, more than anything else.

Walked around for a while. Pretending to be looking at stuff while pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down to keep the bandaged wrists hidden.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

The other patient wasn't either.

Yet, he kept following me around, looking tall. Analyzing the food with a critical eye and a raised chin. And a part of me was suddenly afraid he might lose consciousness at any minute.

That was until it dawned on him: "Aren't you broke?"

"Why? Do you have any money?"

"I was rich." He admitted proudly only to quietly continue with: "until they've confiscated my cards."

"Same." I mumbled and opened one of the fridges. And regretted it as soon as the cold air hit the damp clothes that wrapped around me like a straight jacket.

"We should be heading back."

"What was next?"

"Painting our feelings or talking about our feelings. One of the other," He reminded me, shrugging. Clearly unexcited about both options.

"I wish I had the guts to steal some beer." I thought out loud, since Rhys was comfortable with addict talk.

Which is why, his response was: "You've got a point."

"But I always get sick after drinking anyways..." I argued against it and yet, continued peek at the cold beers.

"Let's go back."

"You're the one who wanted to leave."

"Yea, but we've been walking around for a long time now."

"Have you spotted any clocks?" I joked, wanting to know too.

"Come on."

We walked out into the pouring rain. Sprinting on the pavement only to end up running on grass. Then stone. Expensive, imperfectly cut on purpose, stone.

Although we were hurrying, struggling to keep the hoods over our heads, we probably were already late.

Old trees were dancing fervently above our bodies while our shoes got dirty. By the time we've made it to the two large, imposing wooden doors, I was out of breath. But that wasn't the reason why I didn't step in first.

And suggested mischievously instead: "Women first."

"Aha. So, you do acknowledge the fact that we're late. "

"Even if we're not...we're not dry either."

"Brilliant."

He grabbed the handle and opened the doors that let us in a quiet, sanitized hallway. We walked slowly. Cautiously.

And stood petrified when both our names were called out from an adjacent room: "Davis and Jeon, how nice of you to return on your own."

"Our pleasure." Rhys replied without missing a beat. His British accent making it hard for me to think he hadn't said something fancier.

The man that was sitting behind a desk was not pleased whatsoever. He stood up after tapping the flat surface with a black pen only to drop it a second later. He walked around the piece of furniture. Approaching us with frowned eyebrows and a mean expression.

"Room six, now." He demanded.

I nodded.

Rhys joked with a smile on his face: "The second floor, ain't it?"

"You've been here for months, and you still don't know your way around?"

The man who has been helping us get around during the first day was taken aback by that fact. As if it was a symptom of mental illness and nothing else.

But I knew Rhys was only trying to keep us away from that room for a little bit longer.

"By the stairs, or..."

The man looked at me as if to confirm I was just as sick. I shrugged.

Rhys pointed to every which way available, until the man sighed and pointed towards the right direction. Not only that, but he led us there. Standing by the closed doors of room six with irritation oozing off him like fleas jumping off stray dogs.

Rhys walked in as if the rest have been waiting for him anxiously. Saluting grunting patients and therapists alike.

"Tell all the search parties to go home. We're here and dandy," He assured them, plummeting in one of the chairs. Throwing one leg over the other after leaning back.

I sat down on the chair to his right quietly and somehow still got a few glares.

'Are they all going to get restrictions because of us again?'

They called it 'the friendly system'. But I thought the system was made for unwilling participants to get criticized and ostracized until they'd have no choice but to give in, join the sheep and obey the shepherd. 'Making enemies fast, system' was a more accurate title for the 'eye for an eye' system. Frankly, I, too, would've gotten pissed if I had to write about my trauma in a journal and stay inside without screen privileges because someone else felt like taking a walk when they knew it wasn't allowed.

"Where were we?" A girl who looked high, although she was not, took the heat off us to get this over with faster.

"Dennis was telling us about the struggle of an artist." And the psychiatrist that doubled as a therapist agreed.

"Yes. I was saying that my parents have never cared about it. Or cared about me in general... But it was the only thing I cared about. So, I kept working on my project for months. Doing so well, so fast, but then I had to stop. I thought I was burnt out at first and everyone and the internet suggested I'd take a break. And I did. But then I couldn't get back into it. The break kept going and going..."

"And that's when the depressive episodes have begun?"

"May be, but I don't think I was happy when I was working on my project. Even before the episodes, I was still doing bad, but it's like, I didn't realize it until I felt...unable to do anything."

"And why is that Dennis?"

"No matter how much I was working, I still felt like I had barely made a dent in a freaking mountain."

"No swearing."

"Sorry."

"And when did you relapse?"

"A few months after I couldn't work much... or at all. I was feeling like such a failure. Damaged goods. You name it. I hated myself."

"Does that mean you've started punishing yourself by using?"

The boy was puzzled by the question. Shaking his head left and right vehemently.

"No. I used drugs so I'd stop punishing myself mentally."

"Expand on that idea."

"No matter what I was doing, I couldn't stop thinking about the work I should be doing. The number of hours, the number of pages...the progress. All of it. I was feeling so exhausted despite spending most of my time in bed. Nothing kept my attention long enough. No movies or games helped. No matter how hard I've tried, I couldn't make the voice that kept telling me to work to let me breathe for one damn minute. So no, I wasn't punishing myself. I used and kept wanting to use because that was the only way to get it to shut up."

"Did it work?"

"Like magic."

He admitted with a wide, nostalgic grin.

'Isn't that what Taehyung said to me once?'

"And you believe that was the right call to make, Dennis?"

"At the time, yes."

"And now?"

"Now I realize that my depression was at fault and not my work."

"Exactly."

I scoffed. Thinking: 'Your depression was caused by you being unable meet your own standards. Why are you saying it like it's the other way around? Is it because it feels better if you blame it on something you can't see or control? Ah, what's the point...'

The man in the white coat went on, resting one foot on top of the other, saying: "Rhys Davis, is there anything you'd like to share today? Something that might make me reconsider punishing everyone because of you two." He ended with a quick, small smirk that was like a period after the statement.

"Why are you picking on me then? Ask Jungkook."

"He will be 'picked on' after you. Rest assured. I am always fair."

"You are?" The blond ironically asked in a low tone. Pinching the corner of the left lip up, chin lowed towards the chest. Legs spread wide on either side of the wooden chair.

"Precisely. Now let us into your state of mind," The man requested with a mystical flair.

Rhys crossed his arms tighter, leaning back. Shooting me a glance.

I shrugged.

Not wanting to go first. Ever.

"You want to know what I believe?" Rhys asked quickly, twisting the words with his tongue.

"That's why we're here." The woman from the corner spoke, at last, and then went back to jotting words down on a clipboard. It was hard to see her eyes because of the long bangs that hanged lower the second she'd get closer to the papers.

"I think I can finally see the difference."

"The difference?" The man urged him to go on with his hand.

"Look at you and then look at us. We're clearly sicker."

"That's not what..."

"And you get to judge us on our appearances. Telling us to get healthier, but we can't because we're mentally ill. And you keep claiming that you know that, but do you really know what that means?"

"I'm sure that..."

"That means! That taking care of ourselves requires energy we do not have. Just like you would stay in bed all day if you caught a cold. My bad, you might be the type that keeps on working. Spreading your germs around and what not. I am not judging. But after being sick for days!", the man's raised hand went down when Rhys shouted when he felt like he'll be interrupted otherwise, " After being sick for days and then years, well, even you'd go to that bed and take the day off cause you're done enduring it when everything feels like shit anyways. And it's also pointless to keep working when you're always sick and there's no cure. The question is: Would you decide to take all enjoyment away when you're this sick? Cause the 'normal' stuff is hard to enjoy as it is even without the 'crutch'."

The air quotations and the smugness. A long dry tongue wet the lips while he waited for a response.

The man swiftly turned his focus from Rhys to me. Using his entire body. He rejected Rhys. And although I wouldn't admit it. I wished he'd share something about himself for once instead of complaining about what was already happening. I was curious to hear about him too, because no one else, nor I knew anything about him. None dared ask either. Or if they did, they weren't provided with an answer.

The charts held all the answers. Probably.

All those locked up charts.

"Jeon Jungkook."

"Yes?"

"How are you feeling today?"

"G... good."

'"No more late-night strolls?"

"No." I breathed out with a shy, nervous smile.

"Smoking just one package a day?"

"Aa, yes."

"And what would you like to share about yourself today?"

"I... nothing."

"Did you hear what I've said about the punishment?"

"Yes."

"And this is your answer?"

One complaint after another erupted like land mines. I was also aware that no one was expecting Rhys to answer to begin with. Not even the old man. I was the decisive call whether I went first or not. So, I let my mouth talk without my head joining:

"When I was like seven, at my grandma's, I saw this big, slow turtle in the middle of the road. I rushed to help it go faster, but then my grandma caught my hand and pulled me into the house. I've never found out what happened to that turtle. And that troubles me."

"You're telling us that you're still worried about that incident?"

"No. You said I had to share something about myself."

He immediately covered his face. Massaging his temples like I saw Namjoon do many times.

"Something that carries any emotional weight. That's what I was referring to."

"Then you should've been more specific. I've only done what you've asked of me."

"If this was a board game or a court of law, you would've been excused since you've done nothing wrong." He explained with happy yet fake excitement, and a wide quick, fading grin as he clapped twice. Then went on with gravity in his tone: "But you don't get to win due to a technicality. We're here to help you heal, not judge. So, please share something else. Something that holds emotional weight that once you've shared it, will make you feel...lighter"

'You don't judge? Yet all you do is label it with fancy terms that don't help anyone.'

I cleared my throat as the room fell silent. The eyes that were watching me with impatience were not helping me think of one thing that was not incriminatory.

All I could say was: "I've already said something about myself. And I've also changed my mind. That incident carries great weight. My grandma sent that turtle to die. She was an adult. She knew better."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, and said: "Did that truly happen? Your grandma really saw a turtle and then decided it was time to go inside?"

"Yes."

'No.'

"Then let's talk about it. Shall we?"

Another clap.

"Yes."

Elbows on his knees, hands joined over his mouth. The man started speaking while the rest were groaning in exasperation: "When did you stop trusting people?"

"..."

"Were you six? Seven? Younger or older than seven?"

"I do trust people."

"Then why is it you choose to share only the most uneventful parts of your life?"

"..."

"Keep the details coming Jeon, we've got all day."

"Because my life has been a normal one."

"Is that why you've tried taking your life?"

"They've all tried to kill themselves." I pointed out in self-defense. Regretting it the moment those words left my mouth.

But at least they weren't bored anymore. But dark. Their faces were covered by a much darker veil than before.

"I am not talking about them. I am talking about you, and you, alone."

"You're saying that overworking yourself can't be the cause of a miserable state of mind? Do I need a grand event that I could blame or something?"

"No. But you did not share any of your traumas with us. Not once."

"I did!"

"Let's go down the memory lane, then, shall we? The turtle story is new, but the one where you're washing dishes with your brother and one of it shatters in his hand is truly something that'd make one desire death. No, let me guess, the one where you didn't get to eat sweets for a few days was truly traumatic. Or when ..."

"If I may interrupt, let's not forget that panic attacks were mentioned in his chart." The tiny woman suddenly pointed out.

"Thank you Sheryl." I ironically told her. To which she just replied: "You're welcome."

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

"Let's talk about what we know then. Something must've caused you to have panic attacks."

"..."

"Can you tell us how the first one was like? When it happened? Where and why do you think it happened? Begin."

He leaned back, crossing his arms as well.

I looked down at his shiny black shoes. They were concealing a big foot for such a slim man. A tall man with a dense head of hair on his shoulders. Gray in the front, pitch black in the back. Square, unframed glasses rested upon a straight nose, underlined by a sharp jaw. Black eyes and a blue tie. Yellow ring on the fourth slender, long finger of the left hand. White shirt, pale face, and a long mouth with lips that were on the thin side, matching the rest of his face perfectly.

This man was handsome, albeit in strange fashion.

"I can't recall..." I mumbled, shaking my head.

He's relentless.

"We're going to wait until you'll remember."

Unhappy whispers blossomed from every corner.

"It was a summer day..." I started.

"Answer this instead. Where were you?"

The rest went silent, turning to look at me. Waiting.

I was waiting as well.

'How did Rhys wear him down?'

"In the park."

"I bet you haven't been in a park in your life."

"I have!"

"Really? What was it called?"

"I don't remember."

"What were you doing there?"

'I was with Namjoon on the way to Fred's place.'

"Another time you were in a park? If you can't remember the other one."

"For heaven's sake..." One of the patients barked from behind me.

"We're waiting, Jeon Jungkook."

'I can't remember another one. Why can't I remember...another...one? I am sure I've been in another park on my own...before...'

"Can we go back to my first panic attack?"

The suggestion baffled them. Causing a few more heads to turn my way.

The man leaned forward once again, smiling.

He's strategic.

"Of course, we can."

"When it happened? I think when I was in a car. I don't remember how old, but couldn't have been more than thirteen. And this friend of mine...an older guy, had this cigarette and I've already asked for one. And I knew I shouldn't ask for another, but I really wanted one. But I couldn't speak. And then my friend and his girlfriend started shouting..."

"About?"

"All I remember was that it wasn't anything good. They were arguing and it made me feel like I shouldn't be there. I suddenly had no air and was thinking, for the first time that I'd like to get out."

"The car?"

"Yeah. I wanted off, but I couldn't say that. All I could say was that I wasn't feeling well."

"And then what happened?"

"I started hyperventilating. And I got really scared."

"Why?"

"I thought I was going to die."

"And what did you think about that?"

"About thinking that I might die?"

"Yes. Were you glad or ..."

"No. I was scared and nothing else. I was scared of everything and everyone."

"And did they take you to a hospital?"

"No. They simply took me home and watched me suffocate until I fell asleep."

"And when you woke up?"

"They were gone. It was nighttime."

"Then you don't know what has stopped it?"

"Sleep?"

He shook his head.

"You're saying you were comfortable enough to fall asleep? During a panic attack that...", he cleared his throat, "Did you know what was happening to you?"

"No. I just got tired of feeling like I was going to die."

"And gave up?"

"Gave up on what?"

"You don't understand what you've given up?"

"No. I was exhausted of fighting it and fell asleep because of it. What is there to give up?"

"Never mind me. I was simply throwing words at you."

"What are you..."

"Pardon me, Jeon. Let's get back to the car. You said you wanted something, but felt like you couldn't ask for it because you assumed you'd get rejected. Correct?"

"Correct."

"And when was another time you wanted to ask for something, but you didn't because you knew you'd get denied?"

"Aa..."

"Don't think too much, just let it come to you."

"I was...they were. My parents ...they said that we were old enough to be on our own and at the time, I wanted to tell them to stay, but...I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because they've never asked about what I want. I didn't have a say in it. I still think that even if I were to speak up then, it wouldn't have mattered."

"Why not?"

"Money was involved, and..."

"Money is more important that you?"

"No."

"Logically, no. But do you feel like your parents valued money more than spending time with you?"

"Yes...no... I don't know."

"What about your brother?"

"He did his best. But he wasn't home much."

"Hmm..."

It was at that moment that I finally took in my surroundings. The surprised faces of the other people became apparent to me. Even Rhys's torso was turned to the right. Arms still crossed. Seeming to contemplate if what I've said was a lie or not. But it was hard to tell since there were no drugs involved in this story, so he knew it was a safe one. For now.

In the dense silence, I was shocked by how quickly I've answered. Without missing a beat. But I still got no word as to what to do with it.

'He's either that good or I am that easy to manipulate. One or the other. Maybe both.'

But there was a part of me that wanted an answer. A fix. A something after saying that. Cause it was something I, myself, hadn't found the answer to and I knew...everything else.

And that was the problem in itself. I knew everything while they knew almost nothing. And even if I were to tell them everything, their subjective eyes would see it differently. Whether it be better or worse.

Rhys took the newborn hope and killed it by simply uttering the words: "Now that he knows the root of one problem, he can go fuck himself. Right?"

He smirked. The rest did not.

However, the session went on. And despite my honesty, no one told me what to do about it. Just like Rhys's predicted.

That memory was written down on a white page that was meant to be stacked in a file with my name on it. And that's all it was ever going to happen to it.

I've shared it. But as I was walking out room six, I was feeling heavier.

And when the half gray haired man singled me out, letting me know about private sessions we could be having about my unmet needs, I was certain.

This man was insane.

And not in the typical way.

He couldn't wait to hear more about it. More pain. More trauma. More hurt.

It's like he was feeding on it and yet, he never offered any practical solutions.

As if speaking about it, in itself, was enough.

'What a joke.'

Namjoon's perspective:

As soon as I became to be the head of Fred's criminals, I've found it almost too easy.

I wasn't only familiar with what Fred was doing. I also knew what others said when he wasn't present.

I knew most of the other dealers and their patterns.

I knew what needed to be done.

And what needed to be avoided at all costs.

It fit me like a glove.

But that didn't bring any sense of pride, nor relief.

It felt as if I wasn't really working, but just going around making decisions and passing bills.

I was detached. I didn't even look at the faces of those I've killed.

This time, however, I was seeing Jung Ho-Seok's face perfectly.

A sweaty, veins popping out, jaw clenched and eyes wide, face.

The face of someone that's in a great deal of pain.

I was good at everything that was new and yet I've become the worst at the one thing I used to enjoy about my job.

Torturing people.

"I asked you which one you'd prefer!" I reminded him loudly. Hearing the echo of my scream reaching corners that my eyes could not in this dark underground tunnel. J-Hope's screams echoed as well. Like a lullaby. Out of tune. And without many lyrics.

"Me...do me...me..." He kept repeating the same thing as he ripped through the skin of his hands with his own nails.

Withstanding the pain of his lower body while two men tried to detach the legs from the pelvis.

"You said you're the one who'll take it."

"Me. Me. Me..."

"Fred would've never given you an option, J-Hope. And to be honest, I'd rather hurt all the people you want to willingly give your arms and legs for. It's a noble...act."

He grinned with pride at my twisted compliment.

"Or a retarded one." I added.

The smile evaporated and a growl replaced it. It came close to a scream and then he held it in until he couldn't.

"Me! ME! AHHH...."

"See, I really hate torturing someone slowly cause at some point, you might want to die so badly that you'll start begging me to kill you and I'd rather you wouldn't want that."

"ME! MEAAH!"

I squatted before him.

"Yes, you. Wouldn't you like to change your mind? Death will come quick and easy for your followers. Hmm? What do you say?"

"AHHHH!" He rocked back and forth, trying to release himself from the ropes or distract himself from the pain. Spit flying everywhere as he screamed on and on.

Like a broken record.

"Sir?"

"The leg is not even cut off yet. You can still reconsider and...." I tried again, pointing at the bleeding, tore open flesh.

"Sir?"

I sighed and got up. Hands buried in two deep pockets, I responded with boredom:

"Yes, Arthur."

"Isn't the cleanup of one man more advantageous for us? Not to mention, we could use some new employees."

"Maybe. But if they were raised by this guy, I doubt they'll ever work under someone else. At best, we'll get their stuff, hiding places, and customers."

"You've been trying to convince him to save himself instead of them because you think they might not cooperate?"

"No, Arthur. I've already told you and him that I really hate it lately... when people..."

"KILL ME! PLEASE!!!AHHHH!"

"They've barely started on the first leg, Hope! Don't be like that. You've got the word hope in your nickname for fuck's sake!" I encouraged him while scratching my suddenly, itching nose.

"IT HAHHAH! HURTS! STOP! MAKE IT...."

I squatted again. Hiding my eyes in the palm of the left hand.

"Sir? Is everything all right?"

"ME! ME! MEEEE...!"

"Sir?"

"KILL ME!"

Taehyung begged better. Like the emotional manipulator that he was. Crying and assuring me it was the right thing to do.

Saying please and thank you.

Regardless, after I've refused one too many times, he ended up screaming just like him.

"NOWWW!! AHHH! KILLL!"

An exorcism, as far as I know, it's performed to get the demon out.

In this case, I've created the demon named 'pain' and then the host just decided he wants out of the body itself.

"Sir? Do you want to get some fresh air?"

"KI-", cough, "ME.", cough.

Taehyung coughed too. But mainly because I stabbed him. That must've been it.

Or it might've been the smoke.

I was lost in my thoughts when the sound of a bone being broken reached my ears. It lasted one second, but it invited desperate, never-ending screams from the owner of the bone.

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME!"

Blood was pouring out of his leg and mouth. The teeth that have been punched out of his mouth left the gums with nothing to wrap around. The screaming made them bleed. Or maybe it was an internal bleed. I couldn't tell.

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! AHHH! KILL! ME!"

The words echoed around like a sinister rap. They were sharp, filled with conviction and anguish.

"Shut up..." I mumbled, covering my ears, rocking back and forth just like he was.

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL! NOW!"

"SHUT UP!" I begged back.

"Sir, would you like to take a..."

Another broken bone, another pain filled scream. No words. Just the shouting of a man losing his mind because of what his body is going through.

"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLL!"

"JUST LET ME KILL YOUR PEOPLE!"

"KILLLLLLLLL MEEEEEEEE!"

"Why are you being so stubborn?!" I asked him, standing up in anger.

"Sir..."

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME!"

As he kept repeating this like the weirdest prayer, I closed the distance between us and slapped him so hard that his whole head flew to the right

Blood, sweat and saliva were dripping from his chin. Tears wetting the cheeks, nose and lips.

It was silent for one full second before he started again: "KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME!"

He shouted in my face, thrashing around like mad. Moving the chair back and forth, but not hard enough to make it fall. This time, less desperate and more rageful.

Daring me to do it, instead of begging it.

"JUST GIVE THEM UP ALREADY!"

"KILL..."

But I didn't get to convince him fast enough cause there it was, the first limb was no longer attached to the body. It was now being held up like an object by one of my employees.

"Shit! Now you have to die...You fucking..."

"Sir, are you alright?" I heard Arthur asking from somewhere behind us, but it didn't register.

I felt as if no one was there anymore.

No one but him and I.

"KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLL MEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

He demanded as he too saw his leg being placed in a plastic bag.

"You haven't told me what I need to know yet!" I reminded him.

"KILL ME!" He shook his head left and right with speed. Probably hurting his neck, which was the least of his problems.

I grabbed a hold of his hair and forced him to look up at me while they started cutting into the other leg. The other, bleeding out onto the floor way too fast.

It stained my shoes and probably pants.

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME! Tell me why you've done what you've done already!"

"Sir, what are you talking ab..."

"KILL ME! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!"

"NO, V! YOU DON'T GET TO DIE! THAT'S TOO EASY! YOU NEED TO..."

"Sir, Kim Taehyung has already..."

"TELL ME WHY THE FUCK DID YOU START THE FIRE!"

"Sir, you need to come to your senses."

Arthur was no longer far away. He was right behind me, trying to tear my hand away from the man's scalp by pulling on my elbow.

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL! KILL!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! DON'T YOU WORRY! About that... JUST TELL ME WHY YOU HAD TO HAVE JUNGKOOK?! Was our friendship not real, or.."

"Sir...please...you need to get some air."

Arthur kept trying to get me to step away from V. Talking near my ear. Trying to hold my other hand back as if I'd do something else than pull at his hair.

"KILL MEEEEEE!

"FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU HAVE TO SUFFER AT LEAST HALF THE..."

"THIS IS NOT KIM TAEHYUNG!"

I blinked a few times. Let go of the hair and stepped back.

Looked at his face and yet, all I could see was Taehyung's eyes staring back at me.

"Arthur, I think I would've known if this was not him."

"This is J-Hope. Remember? He tried to cross you and we came to teach him a lesson."

"J-Hope?"

"Yes, sir. You had a little bit too much to drink and you must be confused. It's understandable...you couldn't sleep much lately and..."

Whatever Arthur said next was a blur.

"KILL ME! KILL ME. KILL me..."

The loss of blood was making him lose the power to scream. But as he was about to faint, I panicked.

"You can't die yet...I won't..."

"Sir, let's take a breath of fresh air. They'll take care of him for you. There's no need for you to be here."

"They?"

I looked down at the two men whose hands were still moving, but their eyes were glancing from the leg they had to cut out to me.

They were confused. And so was I.

I turned my back to the dying man and whispered into Arthur's ear: "This is not V?"

"No, sir. Kim Taehyung is already dead. You're the one who killed him. Don't you... Remember?"

"Of course, I do." I lied, forcing a chuckle as I looked over my shoulder at the man who kept mumbling the same two words: "Kill me."

"I was joking." I assured Arthur, who smiled as if he finally got the joke.

"I know, sir. But wouldn't you like to go home now?"

"...I guess."

I started heading towards the stairs, but as I kept glancing back at the three men, I felt the need to reassure them: "I was only joking."

"They know, sir. Don't concern yourself with that."

I nodded, going up the stairs slowly.

'V's already dead.' I reminded myself after climbing every thick, stone stair.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Where's Jungkook?"

He took a moment to answer, but when he did, I've realized how my mind immediately assured me I could kill Arthur any time if my weaknesses got too obvious.

"He's still receiving mental...care for his suicidal attempt."

"Right. Any word on when he's getting out?"

"No, sir. That depends on how well he's doing."

"And is he doing well? Still sober?"

He opened the one white door of the darkest place and waited for me to walk out into the field before he answered: "Yes. But he's not doing well enough for him to go home."

"Do they think he's suicidal? Cause he was not. He was just trying to get to me."

"I know, sir. But they cannot risk it."

"Did he say anything about me?"

We were walking through the tall grass as if we were on a morning stroll.

"Our informant confirmed that he's kept you out of every story he's shared so far."

"Good. That's good."

And in a way, it was the smartest thing to do.

In another way, it could mean that he wasn't thinking about me at all.

"I apologize, sir."

"Why?"

"I forgot to tell you that Astrid's on his way to your office right now."

"Why is he coming to see me?"

The man stopped dead in his tracks. So, I did too.

"He said you're the one who wanted to see him."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

"You don't remember?"

"Of course, I remember, Arthur! You think I've lost my mind?" I chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"Of course not, sir."

We resumed walking in silence.

'Did I really? Or did he lie so he could talk to me alone? Which one...'

I couldn't figure it out until we made it to the car.

And I continued to think about it as I dozed off in the back seat.

But the most unsettling thing was not my faulty memory, but Arthur's eyes reflecting in the rear-view mirror. Watching me fall asleep with no expression on his face.

I slept for the next five hours and woke up with a migraine.

It was just what I didn't need when I've stepped into my office and caught Astrid playing with one of the amber balls that were on a decorative plate at the corner of the desk.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him with genuine curiosity.

He kept throwing one up and catching it with the other hand.

"Juggling." He responded.

I raised one eyebrow, but didn't ask for further information as I sat down, rubbing my throbbing temples.

"Why did you want to see me?" He asked, after adding one more ball to the mix.

"I had something I wanted to tell you."

"About?"

"Your mother."

One of the amber balls fell to the ground and exploded into a thousand tiny reddish-brown pieces.

Something inside Astrid was taken aback by that answer. But he did not have the self-awareness to realize that about himself so all he said was: "I guess it was real amber." As he rubbed the other ball between the palms of his hands as if he was heating it up.

"Yes, well...didn't you say you wanted to see her?"

Astrid didn't respond. He simply looked down.

"While you're processing, I'll pour myself a drink. Do you want one too?"

"No, thanks."

I turned using the chair, grabbed one of the crystal bottles and poured the whiskey into a nearby glass until it was full.

Downed it in one shot before I turned back around with another raised eyebrow.

"Did you decide?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"Do you want to see her or not?"

"Yes. When can that be arranged?"

"Whenever you want, Astrid. Whenever you want."

"How about today?"

I sighed and turned around to refill my glass.

"Isn't today too soon?"

I heard him smile for the first time. It was subtle but I could hear it in the silence of the office.

Turned to look at him and grabbed another glass.

"I always wanted to see her ever since she's abandoned me, so how can twenty years apart be too soon?"

"You need to have a drink with me to celebrate."

"I can't remember how she looks like. How can I be sure if it's her?"

"She took the test. It's scientifically confirmed."

"Did she agree right away?"

"Yes."

'No."

"So, how about a drink Astrid?"

I asked, keeping the bottle tilted above the second glass.

"I don't enjoy the taste of alcohol."

"It's not about the taste." I scolded that concept and tilted the bottle, until his glass was just as full as mine.

I grabbed both before rotating the chair around.

He reached out and accepted the drink. Not having any facial reaction besides keeping the drink further from his nose after he smelt it.

"Let's toast for meeting your biological mother."

"Is that something people celebrate?"

"Yes, Astrid. It's supposed to be a happy moment."

"Then, cheers!"

"Cheers."

He watched me drink every last sip and just like I've expected, he copied me.

And then continued to down full-sized glasses of whiskey as if they were tiny shots of tequila.

His cheeks got redder and redder.

But his posture remained the same.

Perfect.

Annoying.

Robot-like.

"You fucking psychopath." I thought out loud.

"Excuse me?"

I immediately smiled, realizing what I've said.

"It's an endearing term."

"Does that mean you consider a psychopath to be someone likable?"

"Of course."

"Why? I don't recall having read about people who like those who are different very much."

"Because who'd write a book about someone who has no... bad qualities?"

"You've got a point."

"Of course...I do..."

"But do you consider me to be one?"

"I've never said that."

"I've been called that before, but I've never understood what it means exactly."

"I don't know either." I lied with a smile on my face.

Surprised at how easy it was to fool people lately. And how easy it was to slip up as well.

'You fucking emotionless bag of...'

"Astrid?"

"Yes."

"Would you like us to go to her house? Or would you rather she was brought here?"

"Here?"

"In my office. Or your place?"

"Wherever she'd be more comfortable."

That answer had me leaning back and grinning from one ear to the other while Astrid continued to stare at the amber ball from his hand as if it was the most important thing right now. Mesmerized. Or perhaps, just tipsy.

"Her house it is then."

He nodded.

I turned around.

"One more drink for the road then."

This woman knew what she's given birth to. This woman named her baby boy Astrid for a reason. After all, he was divinely beautiful and nothing else. Something so symmetric and broken that it could only be the creation of the divine.

She probably saw no other quality in him before she fled to the countryside and remained there for the following years. Eating whatever vegetables she's planted in her garden, drinking the milk of the one cow that she owned and cracking the eggs of the five chickens for protein.

There were other houses around. Albeit, distanced by crops and wild vegetation. I've learned she got along with the neighbors. They exchanged goods and helped each other in all kinds of way.

This woman was known for her generosity. Not only that, but it seems like her empathy knew no bounds.

'Help thy neighbor,' was an understatement when it came to her.

She'd listen to another person for hours. Or right until the person would start feeling better. Her presence alone was like a warm cozy fire in the middle of winter. Her advice was always considerate of both parties. And her food was made with love.

The irony was not lost on me.

His son was the total opposite.

But Astrid must've shown her the worst of him since he was just a baby because the second this bubbly, flower print skirt wearing, long brown hair, and the supposedly kind woman, has laid eyes on her son, any color got drained from her face.

Turned around and headed for the door of her house as if she's seen not a ghost, but the spawn of the devil walking up to her.

I couldn't blame her.

But I also couldn't care about her.

If Astrid had shown a smidgen of consideration for her, and her alone, then I have done the opposite.

This woman refused to take the test or meet him. In fact, she had her blood drawn by force. Hairs ripped out of her skull while she begged they'd tell Astrid that she had already passed away.

I wondered why.

But in the end, it didn't really matter to me.

All that mattered was...

"Why did she run away?"

"She didn't run away Astrid. She went inside because she was probably ashamed to be wearing a straw hat after you haven't seen her in so long."

"Makes sense."

We've also made it to the door.

But before trying it, Astrid turned around and looked at me with something on his face that resembled anxiety. Or at least, worry.

"Do I have something on my face?" He asked, touching it weirdly.

"No."

"Is my hair..."

"You're fine, Astrid. Just go in and say hi."

He nodded. And tried the door.

It was locked.

'Figures.'

I cleared my throat and shouted: "Mrs. Young! There's someone here who wants to see you!"

Astrid knocked some more. Appearing almost hopeful. Nervous.

'Is he faking it? Ah, who cares?'

"Mrs. Young! I am sure he can go meet your neighbors first if that's..."

"I don't want to meet her neighbors."

"Shh. Miss Young! Would you be so kind as to let us in before we wake up the whole..."

The door made a clicking sound before it was opened from the other side. Slowly. Carefully. Forcibly.

"Good evening, I am Astrid."

He introduced himself before we stepped in.

The woman didn't even look at him or at his reached-out hand.

Instead, she looked straight at me.

The rumored warmth and empathy that her friends have talked about was nowhere to be found in those eyes right now.

I grinned.

"Don't you want to have a drink with your son inside?"

Mrs. Young stepped aside without shaking her son's hand.

But Astrid couldn't conceptualize that. So, he just stood there, watching me go in.

He came in only after both her and I sat down at the table in her vibrant living room.

The place was adorned with pictures of her and her friends smiling happily. Flowers of all kinds were abloom in colorful pots. Knitted clothes were folded in a corner. And books stacked on top of each other on old, overused, wooden furniture.

The air was fresh, yet earthy and sweet.

But her son seemed to not notice anything in this house besides her.

She was about to make us some tea when I've stopped her by saying: "No liquor?"

"No." She stated simply.

"Not a problem. I've got some in my car, I'll go fetch it."

She nodded, but watched me with eyes as big as saucers when I got up and headed towards the door.

Leaving her alone with Astrid.

"Wait." She said softly, yet alarmed. "I'll come with you."

I smiled, waving a hand. "No need. I'm sure you two got a lot to talk about."

"But..."

"Mom?"

That one word had the woman flinch.

She turned around slowly. So slowly that it was as if she didn't want to.

I continued to smile on my way out.

Buried my hands in the pockets of the black pants as I strode towards the car whistling.

The sky was filled with stars that seemed to be hanging by strings made out of the same material.

Like comets that were about to crash into the earth at any moment.

They sparked from far away and lit up the way like natural street lamps.

I was enjoying the cold air until I've spotted someone looking through the windows of my car.

The woman didn't notice me until I was already behind her.

"What do you want?"

She jumped and stepped back a few steps before putting her hands up to her chest.

"My, my, you've scared me."

"You want something?"

"No. It's just..."

"Just?"

"I haven't seen a car in so long..."

"Ah."

"I am Chin-Sun. And you are?"

"Marcus." I blurted out without thinking.

"You are not Korean?"

"I am, but my mother was a fan of an actor named Marcus."

"I see. What brings you to these parts?"

"Visiting Mrs. Young."

"Are you one of her friends from the city?"

"You could say that."

"Well, don't let her scare you away. She's a bit paranoid sometimes, but she has a good heart. I assure you."

"Paranoid? About what?"

"I don't know. She doesn't want to speak about it, but every time someone from the city visits, she makes them leave the very next day. I've also heard her shout at..."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She patted my shoulder, smiling and shaking her short hair casually, she answered, not embarrassed in the least.

"Because I am looking out for her. She's the best, but no matter how many times I've told her that city folk are not ill-intentioned towards her, she doesn't listen."

"I understand."

She seemed to not understand why I've said that, but I couldn't be bothered to listen to her gossip so I just opened the truck and got out a bottle of wine.

"You've brought her a gift! How thoughtful."

I nodded and headed back towards the house.

She followed me despite the fact that I wasn't talking, nor looking at her.

"She's not a big drinker though, so don't take it personally."

The crickets were talking to each other. Fireflies were lighting up the vegetation that was blanketed by the night. And somewhere, not too far, the sound of a small river reached my ears.

"You can bring some tea next time. She really likes tea. All kinds of tea. Even the kind that shouldn't be made into tea. Like nettle and red clover tea! It doesn't taste good so doesn't that mean that it shouldn't be consu..."

The subtle wind. The blurry house. The dark shadow behind the tallest tree.

"What was your name again?"

"Chin-Sun."

"Chin-Sun." I repeated, hoping I'd remember it tomorrow. "Mrs. Chin- Sun, would you please excuse me? I've got a lot to talk about with Mrs. Young and I wouldn't like to be interrupted since it's a sensitive topic."

"A sensitive topic?!"

She seemed intrigued. Eager to continue to follow me to the door.

Something that I couldn't allow.

I sighed and halted.

She stopped as well, parting her lips with a smile. Ready to spout some more of her nonsense.

I stepped up to her, leaned down and whispered in her ear before another word left her mouth: "You like it here, don't you?"

"Yes, but Marcus, why are you being so..."

"If you like breathing, I'd forget I ever saw a car or my face. If you don't, I'll find out. And everyone that lives around here will be killed the very next day. But you'll be the last one since I want you to feel guilty about causing every single of one of them to die. So, what's it going to be?"

She didn't speak for a while.

"I asked, what's it going to be."

"I'll...forget."

"You can call the police or whatever, but they'll never get here fast enough, nor catch me. But before they do get here, I'll make sure you'll die the slowest, most painful death imaginable. In fact, did you know that the brain is the last organ to go when you die? Do you want to find out if you can feel it hurting after your heart's stopped beating?"

I stepped back. She was shaking visibly, shaking her head.

Being quiet at last.

I exhaled deeply and looked up at the starry sky that was above her round head.

'I wish Jungkook would be here to see it.'

Was all I thought as I turned on my heel and walked up to the door, saying:

"You're a good friend. Now go home and be a good living human."

Before I opened the door, I looked back, but she was already gone.

'Shit, I think I've already forgotten her name.'

I shrugged and opened the door.

The sound of a plate getting smashed against a hard surface was the first thing that welcomed me.

I watched from the entrance as the son was chasing his mother around the living room table.

"Stop it!" She shouted.

"But we need to bond." Astrid argued.

I opened the bottle of wine with my back against the door and had a sip before I've asked: "Astrid, what did you do?"

"I saw it in this documentary. Animals that have been abandoned need to smell their mother's..."

I sighed and told him to sit down.

When he didn't, I got so angry I, too, thought it was illogical to be this mad over something so small.

And yet, they continued to chase each other like children, so I couldn't help but shout: "SIT DOWN!"

The woman froze from the newfound fear, but Astrid did not. He simply frowned and did as he was told.

"Let's see..." I mumbled to myself as I paced around the room and picked up one of the photo frames while sipping wine.

"What do you want?" Asked the woman who was close to tears.

"What do I want..." I repeated, waiting for my mind to offer me the answer yes, it's time to atone for your sins, Mrs. Young."

"Atone for my sins?" She repeated as well, but with such disbelief and shaky voice that I was wondering if she was already crying.

I didn't look at her though, but at the people from the pictures.

"You've been avoiding responsibility. Living in a natural, happy bubble. But it's time to take care of your child. Don't you think?"

"Wait a minute. Take care of me? We haven't discussed..."

"Astrid, be quiet."

"He's not my son."

I could see Astrid looking at her through the reflection of a bigger painting. He continued to glare at the left side of her face with furrowed brows as she spoke those words staring straight at my back.

"Biologically speaking, he is."

"Biologically, yes. But..."

"I am your son. If you gave birth to me then I am..."

"Astrid, did I say you are allowed to speak yet?"

I took a big gulp as she went on to say: "He's grown. He doesn't need me to take care of him. Why are you..."

"You'll take him in. Feed him. Clothe him. Show him how you've lived. People you've..."

"No, no, no... No!"

I turned to look at the teary-eyed woman with a smirk, asking:

"Did I say you had a choice?"

"Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?!"

"Mrs. Young, you're blaming me for your ill-fated decisions? Or is this not the child you've abandoned? Is this not your responsibility as a parent?"

"Who are you?! And how did you find me? Who told you about me?! What..." She shouted, getting up so fast that the chair fell behind her with a thump.

"You're making your son very sad right now."

"My son is not capable of sadness!"

I chuckled, dropping the picture frame to the ground and hearing it shatter as I made my way to the table. Leaving the bottle on the flat surface before going around it, to reach the woman who wasn't blinking while she stared at me.

Her small frame, identical to her son's. Her aged features, that of someone who could've had plastic surgery. She was beautiful, in a manufactured type of way. It was so symmetrical it was strange. Their resemblance was uncanny.

The insides however, were entirely different.

I stood by her side and patted her sunburnt hair once, before saying: "It must've been hard. Having your husband begging you to come back home. Not knowing why you've left in the first place. But don't worry...he's a busy business man and I'll make sure he'll be so busy, that he won't be visiting you anytime soon. Your mutual friends, won't either. So..."

"Who are..."

"Mrs. Young, do you enjoy living?"

"Boss." Astrid got up, seeing where this was headed. " I appreciate you doing this for me, but I have a job and..."

"Astrid, sit down."

He obliged.

"Mrs. Young?"

"Yes?"

"You'll keep your son here unless you want your husband to find out everything. And if you let him go or make him go, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

"Why...are you doing this?" She whispered, one tear rolling down after another.

"I'll know if he leaves. I'll know if you try to make him leave. I'll know...every single word that you'll speak from today."

"Please..."

"If I were you, I'd play house. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a long drive ahead of me."

I grabbed the bottle and walked out.

She ran and grabbed my arm after five mere steps.

"What now?" I mumbled, irritated.

Tears falling from the unblinking eyes. Fingers trembling around my arm. She stood on her tippytoes to whisper in my ear: "He'll kill me. He might...kill me..."

"Astrid?"

She nodded.

I grinned.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Young. He's not allowed to kill you. I've already spoken to him so don't worry and go back inside."

She didn't seem convinced.

"Please...I beg of you..."

"I don't like being begged. Really. I've had a long day so will you just..."

"Please. At least tell me why. I need to know...why..."

"Why?" I scoffed with a chuckle. "Why did you abandon him?"

Her expression darkened under the stars and the tears stopped rolling down her cheeks.

"Please... tell me. Why did you bring him to me?"

"A son must be with his mother. Psychopath or not."

She shook her head again and again as she let go of my arm and fell to the ground on her knees. Eyes wide, lips shaking.

I patted her head and turned my back to her.

"I gotta admit it though. You've picked a nice hiding spot. I'd love to come visit, but I am afraid I don't have the time."

"Don't leave me...with him. Please." She whispered.

"Get to know your son, Mrs. Young. He might not be what you wanted, but he's yours."

"I don't...want him."

"Then kill him."

"...what?"

I shrugged and tilted my head to the right.

"He can't kill you. He can't go against my word when it's a straight order. But you... you can do whatever you want."

"I can't...kill my own son." She said with a terrifying smile, shaking her head and grabbing the sides of her hair. "Can I?"

"He was dead to you for years. So, what are you talking about?"

I smiled. She smiled, letting more tears roll down from her big eyes. Like pearls. Precious, insane pearls.

'Sorry, Astrid. I kind of sympathize with you for once since I think my mother would've tried to kill me if she knew I was a murder too. If she lived enough to see me become one. But that's where my sympathy ends.'

I drank some more wine on the way to the car, wondering why was V smiling at me from behind one of threes.

"You've made me weak. Are you happy now? Ready to go towards the light and leave me the hell alone?"

"..."

"No? Still? What a brother gotta do?"

"..."

"Guess you really didn't care about your dad so much. Or maybe you just enjoy watching me suffer. Is that it?"

"..."

"Not going to talk? Fine. I don't want to talk to you either."

"..."

"It's Jimin, isn't it? Or Jungkook? I swear to God, I did everything I could for Jungkook, and if you want me to hurt him, I'll find you as soon as I am dead and kill you again."

"..."

"Did you even know that you're dead? I forgot for a bit."

"..."

"Jungkook's supposedly doing fine. He's sober, at least. So, if it's not him...it's Jimin, isn't it?"

"..."

"For fucks sake, V. It's Jimin, isn't it?!"

"Yeah."