Hostage Handbook

Chapter Four | Love Song of Surrender

YEOREUM

Slowly, winter grows cold as December reaches its midway point. I have been trying my best to remember the date and be aware of what day it is to prevent myself from falling off track with the outside world.

Tonight, Jungkook and I play a board game before watching a horror movie

Jungkook heads to bed first, without even trying to touch me. His lips flutter as he watches me amble to the dressing room, yearning for my attention. But when Jungkook notices I am tidying his tie drawer, a strange look of contentment breaks through his tense features.

"Ms Kim taught me how to manage your clothing," I say as I finish rolling a tie. I crane my neck towards him with a faint smile. "She said it's vital for a good partner."

Jungkook hesitates for a moment before he runs out of bed to reach me, just as if kicking the blankets away cost him great courage. He snakes his arms around me.

"Just ignore her. You don't need to do this," Jungkook says.

"It's quite fun," I say. I run my hands through the neatly arranged collection and stop at a navy tie. My wrist aches just at the look of it. "I thought you chucked this one out."

Jungkook raps his fingers against the silk material that has been strained out of shape from the hard wrestle it was put through between my wrist and the bedpost.

"Why would I throw away something that brings great memories?" Jungkook tightens his grip around me. "All right, this is enough work for you today. Let's sleep, okay?"

I nod with vigilance tightening my stomach. Normally, mentioning something Jungkook took great pleasure out of will invigorate his lower body. Something is wrong tonight.

The lights dim, and I lie down with an anxious feeling. Jungkook doesn't pull me into his arms, and I don't initiate anything. To be cautious, I inch away from him as far as possible.

Perhaps the comfort of not touching Jungkook gets the better of me, but a drowsy feeling I haven't felt in two months soon tugs at my mind. I grip the blanket and shut my eyes to indulge in the calmness. Fuck it. Even if I die, at least I'll be a well-rested ghost.

A quiet ruffle appears from the other side of the bed.

"No, stop it, Father. I'll be good. I promise I'll be good," Jungkook mumbles. He thrashes his arms around the bed like he is fighting a vicious beast. "Stop it, Father."

Still sleepy, I turn to Jungkook with a frown that quickly fades away at the sight of his pitiful state.

Jungkook is curled up in a ball, compulsively shuddering with what I can only name as fear.

For a brief second, I almost feel like I am looking at myself.

But then, tears leak from Jungkook's eyes, dampening his cheeks and the pillow beneath him with the shape of his devastation.

"Father, please," Jungkook screams, kicking the blanket. "Go away. Please go away."

Jungkook's desperate voice sounds so familiar. I brace my arms around him the way I wish someone did to me when I was tormented.

"It's okay, Jungkook. I'm here," I say gently.

I bite away the urge to curse. The shame of comforting the monster who ruined my life pricks my heart. Nonetheless, my grip around Jungkook continues to be tight. It's almost like I am not comforting Jungkook, but the Song Yeoreum who was assaulted and filmed and blackmailed.

As soon as Jungkook feels my embrace, he clenches me like a drowning person desperately grasping land. Truthfully, I don't want to comfort someone who stripped my life away, but as a normal human being, I struggle to ignore Jungkook's desperate grip. If I really ignore him, laugh at him, mock him for his vulnerability, will I be happy? Yes, for a moment, perhaps. But it's a moment that won't last.