For The Messed Up Minds

. . . _ _

M E S S E D - U P  M O V E S

. Thursday

. 11:13 am KST

. Location: Seoul's asylum for the messed-up minds

As Jimin and Jungkook isolated in their cells for their so-called 'misbehavior,' Taehyung wandered the long corridors of the prison. He heard faint wolf whistles from behind as his lithe frame swished side to side, and he ignored them, remaining professional despite desperately wanting nothing more than to strangle them. He worked in the 'criminally insane' department, meaning he had some tough customers. The cells he passed were clad with steel doors and a tiny plastic window for them to glance through, but even then, the view was just the grey wall and some guards standing tall imitating statues.

Briefly, he did come across the fated pair, and it was as if time slowed down for them, letting them soak in the 'new meat.' Their dark eyes peeked out of their individual windows, eyeing his body in hunger and possible lust, but Taehyung was too busy in his own world to notice. They were captivated by the male even though he was not outstanding in any way; maybe it was his charisma though, it always managed to follow Taehyung, both a blessing and a curse. His grandma always said, "Oh, little bear. Your beauty will one day be your flaw. Be careful how you use your charm." He hadn't understood at the time, he thought his best friend was being generous with her words, but he would soon find out that was not the case. His hair somehow fluttered in the draft-less hall, and that was when Taehyung was claimed, unbeknownst to him. He stared onward, innocent, and oblivious. His foot fell, and time moved at its typical pace again, with him striding on and the boys ogling at his backside.

"He's gorgeous."

"He's so pretty, like a little flower. I want to pluck him out of the ground."

Following the ever-important protagonist's footsteps, the universe finds him in the cafeteria observing the inmates interact. Seemingly, that was the 'safe place' of the prison, whereas the field was a battle arena. Certainly, there are circumstances where that is not the truth and it transformed into a madhouse, fits of food fights breaking out, but he had yet to find out. He could not quite believe how civil these murders and felons were acting, but he was grateful for it all the same. Most chatted idly and gently slapped each other on the shoulder like any sane group of friends, and Taehyung had to wonder if they truly belonged here. It was comparable to a high school canteen, and it brought him a sense of déjà vu.

"A new face, come here," a voice sounded from the crowd. While he could not for certain know if the message was for him, he predicted so for he stuck out like a sore thumb in his grey slacks and turtleneck. Everyone's gazes quickly found him even through the clutter of sounds, and he tugged on the material around his neck, feeling very uncomfortable under them. He moved swiftly toward the exit in hopes of escape, but his elbow was snagged by a shorter guy in a standard police uniform. They locked eyes and he noted the others were shaped similar to that of a cat. "It's better if you go through the trial without struggle, they take it easy that way."

"Who- what trial?" Taehyung questioned, bewildered at the odd statement.

"There's a thing these convicts do, it's like, a coming-of-age ceremony or initiation competition for the new staff and such. Trial if you will, I don't really know."

"What happens during the trial?"

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you one of the guards lost a digit right after and quit."

Taehyung shivered and muttered a quick okay, thank you to the man for the information. He slowly made his way back to the center of the room, hands placed non-threateningly at his sides, palms open. The mint-haired male scoffed at his caution. He lightly tapped his foot in dreaded anticipation for the voice to speak again. "So, you wish to stand for the trials, well thought. Now tell me, what's your position in this prison?"

"I am... I'm a counselor." Calculating stares were the response from the crowd. He glanced around and discerned that they, in fact, did not like psychotherapists or anyone of the sort.

"Okay, counselor. You will participate in a game. If you lose against one of the kings, you quit and never show your face here again. If you win-"

"Woah, Woah, Woah. What game? And who's the king?"

The representative gave him a dead-eyed glare that could scare a duck, but not much else, and proceeded on. "If you win, you go to the second and last challenge against the other king. You lose, you get to stay but make no mistake, there is your blood in the water. Sharks love new meat. You win, consider yourself royalty."

"And how many people were crowned?"

"None. These people are all waiting in the slaughter line." That's why the staff were in hiding as the chief said. They were practically branded for sacrifice. Taehyung glanced back at the officer who warned him with a sympathetic look with an underlying hint of fear. The man just shook his head and kept looking ahead.

"When will this...trial begin?"

"Once the kings are hungry." And that was all he said. No who, nowhere, no what. Taehyung was left with nothing, standing foolishly in the middle of the hall pegged as a warrior in a tournament he did not sign up for. And if he was being honest, he was scared. Not for his health, but rather his career. When would he find another job offer such as this?

There is a saying. You either love to work or work to live. Without his degree, Taehyung was just a grain of sand in the big hourglass of time. He lost most of his personality studying for this and became another mindless robot. So, he loved to work, and he wanted to work here. Without dying, preferably.

"Okay," He agreed because what else could he do? He could not run, there were too many prisoners acting as the guards to keep him in. He felt suffocated with the pressure of everything. The impending challenges, the watchful eyes, whether he was going to live or not. He felt the weight of expectation just like any young adult, and just then, he tasted a little bit of normal. But he also felt pride; for what exactly? He did not know.

Times passed slowly with him standing sheepishly at the heart of this fowl beast they call a prison, and the expendable cells stayed silent, showing respect to the challenger and the soon-to-be arriving 'monarchs.'

up next... T R I B U L A T I O N S

∆1,181 words∆