ethereal | park jimin | ✓

chapter 18 the wrong room

I wake up on a sea of white pillows.

My head feels detached from my body. The white light sears into my eyes and stings through my brain like hot iron. I gasp in pain and cradle my head on the soft ground.

The air in the room is heavy with the scent of fabric softener and gasoline.

Am I awake? Is this real?

I am laying face-down in a padded room. It's straight out of a horror movie scene. It even has an ominous metal door with a food slot in the bottom.

My eyes widen in horror as a rush of puke comes up my throat. I retch onto the ground and force everything out of my body. I heave violently until my throat is raw and burning from coughing and stomach acid.

Once I finish trying to puke up my lungs, I finally manage to breathe through the coughing. My body goes limp from exhaustion and I lay still on the ground.

Why am I throwing up? I'm not sick or anything. You only throw up when you have a major concussion, not a minor one.

A tremor of fear causes my heart to race.

Is it a major one now?

It's a wonder I haven't given myself a permanent brain injury. At this point, I'm surprised I can still remember my own name after all the blows to the head I've taken.

It takes me a few seconds to realize the padded room is empty.

Jungkook and Taehyung are gone.

I lift my head carefully and force my eyes to adjust to the blinding light. "Jungkook? Taehyung?" I ask pointlessly but still clinging to the hope they can somehow hear me. "Are you there?"

I make the mental decision not to imagine the amount of pain they are being put through for escaping and being caught. I force myself not to think about Hoseok either.

It would be too much to bear. I don't think I'll be able to cope with these thoughts. I have to ignore them. I can't dwell on these things.

All that matters is the next step forward.

But the reality of the padded room acts as a harsh slap to the face.

There is no moving forward. There is no escape from this fate.

I begin to crawl towards the door only to see there is no doorknob on the inside. The taste of acid floods my mouth again and I feel sick all over again. I inhale shakily and run my hand over the smooth surface of the door, stunned.

There's no escape from this room. I can't open the door even if I wanted to.

"Good morning."

I gasp in surprise and pull back from the door. I look up at the slot to find a pair of eyes staring down at me. They aren't Sam's muddy green eyes, these eyes are older and worn around the edges. He stares at me with mild curiosity, "How did you sleep?"

His casual tone sets me on edge.

I glower at him as nausea builds inside my stomach. My legs are weak with fatigue so I don't bother to stand up. I might pass out from the effort.

He blinks at me, expecting an answer.

"I didn't sleep," my voice is hoarse from puking, "I was knocked unconscious."

"That's unfortunate," he states without a hint of empathy, "I thought they used a tranquilizer on you. Oh well."

"What do you want?" I snap, tired of his taunting. "If you want me to tell you where he is then you're out of luck."