Obsession

23

Purify.
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A lot of people have flaws. One of Jeongin's biggest strengths, but also weaknesses, was his stubbornness. The exact one that got him harmed in the first place. All this time being consistent not to call the police during those ten days, reporting the behaviors of being stalked. And not using it when he left Chaewon's house. He used it against the men, that go infuriated by his stubbornness. He didn't know how to control that trait at all. He was hopeless.

And despite being hopeless. He still tried to make life function in this very basement. Receiving the exact same food once a day, getting into arguments with the two of them, ending up getting emotionally and physically hurt. He longed for the warmth of his parents arms so much, their sweet voices and the delicious food.

Even though he promised not to think of the past. It started hunting him, day by day, pulling him further into the hole of deprivation. He wanted to toughen up, but he was never a tough man to begin with. He couldn't handle the changes in moods Chan and Seungmin had to him. From one day treated him nicely, to turning a cold shoulder on him. He wondered if it was all apart of their game. To soften up, but hurt him, so he would break and obey every single thing without questioning nor asking for more.

But how could he not ask for more? When all he had was nothing. He wanted the world so badly, he wanted to stare at people minding their own business, admiring them from afar. He wanted the warmth, the food, the smell of his home and the cafè. He wanted his friends, his colleagues, parents and his ex. He wanted everything he didn't have anymore. And he was continuesly being pulled further down into the black hole that swallowed him up raw.

The time that has passed since he was first taken has become countless. He stopped counting when he reached day 60, losing count of all the days his been locked away from the normal society above him. Locked away from sunlight, from family and friends. Of course he couldn't keep the promise of not remembering the past, he should've have known that.

All he wanted was to be good. Good enough for his parents to accept him as who he is, good enough to work at the cafè, for hours on end. And even good enough for his kidnappers to praise him.

Yes he wanted, no, needed the praise. He wanted to be good, for someone to be proud of him after all this time. For someone to acknowledge his achievements over the past months of being stuck in this house. He wanted the special treatment with being up in that old, dirty room..getting showered regularly, so he could get the frightening dirt off of him.

Was he finally losing his sanity? He didn't like to think like that. He wanted to keep it. But he was deprived of everything he once had. Praise, acknowledgement, happiness, touch, words that touched him to the bones, showers, food, water, and a normal room. He didn't have freedom. No, and he regretted trying to forget about his life. It had just brought him further down.

And with the hope of the men showing up, infront of him. With no intent of hurting nor punishing him, for them to simply praise him for his silence. But he wanted to break so badly, and it hurt, inside of him. Everything that he could think of hurt, cause he knew he wouldn't have the opportunity to achieve anything.

So his main thought was, why not achieve stuff from them? Whether if it was touch, food, showers, or physical objects he could use to make the time pass by.

And yes. He still didn't wish for the police to find him. The attention frightened him. He didn't want to ever be somebody surrounded by people gossiping about him, rumors in the air flying around. He wondered how long it would take for the police to dismiss the case and forget about him. He wondered when his parents would stop missing him. He wondered if Jane was doing well at work. He wondered how so many of his friends and family was affected by this, and how long it would take for them to forget about his existence.

He knew it wouldn't be too long before that happened. He didn't even notice when he turned seventeen. The new age..or well, not really, was so unfamiliar for him. He was still used to be the bright sixteen year old, with hopes and dreams in his hands.

But he had none of that. He felt like he wasn't growing at all. He felt like he was nothing..but a ghost inside this house that still breathed in fresh oxygen. And it burned inside out. He felt surreal, he couldn't recognize himself. He felt as if he was changing for the worst he could possibly become.

And after all he had done..tried, and fought for..no matter what. They saw through it. They could see through him as if he was clear glass. Was he really so obvious?

He was never good at hiding anything. He never lied until he was hear. Scars from wounds and cuts on his body, creating self hated flaws that he wished he could was off of him. The burns from their torture, his broken heart that was shattered into inni bity tiny pieces, not able to pick them up without cutting himself on the sharp pieces. He was made of glass, fragile and easy too break..but also stubborn. Holding on for a very long time to stay the same. But once shattered, he would cut himself on the mess.

And that left eternal pain inside of him.

If he could make a wish, and if it would come true. He would wish to change his fate. Once and for all. But wishes weren't true, and will never be. They were useless to him now. Knowing that the men wouldn't be nice without some form of reason behind it. And that was why he strongly pushed then away when they changed their way of speaking to him, when they touched him, and he would get warmed up and flustered. He pushed them away, they were never deservant of him, but he knew the time will come when they would have him wrapped around their fingers.

All he was is pathetic, stupid and useless. He wanted that nothing should mean anything to him anymore. He wanted to dissappear in a big void of pure nothing.

To be purified. To get all of his broken dreams and hopes fixed. Not wanting to fixate on the men that created this. He didn't want to trust them. But he felt the need to give in to them. To let them wrap a finger or two around him, so he could cry out in their arms.

But that in itself was terrifying.

Everything was.

And he couldn't change that.