Another BTS Story 1 (finished)

Mafia 2.5: Survival instinct

2 years later

"Find him."

"Yes sir."

"An hour."

"Yes Sir."

A machine.

A machine that doesn't ever fail.

I can't fail.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

Failing would mean being shot.

It hurts so much.

I can't walk anymore.

After I arrived in my father's mansion, I was locked in a basement without any opening and I was tortured. I don't know for how long. The only thing that I know was that I was screaming. Screaming and screaming again. And one day it stopped. I got fed normally and I was settled in front of a computer. An image of a man with a name, a nickname or anything. I was asked to find him. His precise localization. I couldn't. So I got shot. Thrice in each leg. I had another hour to find him and if I didn't I would get shot again.

Since then, I failed only more time. And I got shot six time in each legs. I couldn't walk anymore. I had to crawl to the bathroom. I was barely maintained alive. 

I had to find. 

I had to search. 

The name didn't matter anymore. 

I just found and gave to the man who came. I hadn't seen the sunlight and I never tried to argue. I got better with time and it got harder. Finding someone wasn't an easy task. 

My eyes were used to the dim lit room and I couldn't move anywhere else anyway. My father came once a month and he said nothing. 

He watched me work. 

Then left. 

I was his doll.

"Found him." I say in the monitor

There's no answer as I write the exact GPS localization again. I sigh and my laptop is turned off. I don't know who is controlling it from the outside, but I could break through. I don't because that is no use. 

My father won't kill me. 

He won't. 

Despite me begging for it. 

I manage to lay on the mattress beside the chair. And I drag my legs to me. I can't feel them anymore. There's dried blood over them and bones are obviously broken. But that's not important. 

Nothing is important except finding the target.

"Food." The same voice

I eat and drink. Rice and vegetables. Never meat. Only rice. I eat and I don't cry. 

I sit against the wall pushing me as much as I can. 

I hate him. 

Kim Namjoon. 

I hate him so much. 

I despise him. It's his fault. 

Everything is his fault. 

No. Min Yoongi. It is his fault. 

The door opens once again and this time I'm lifted up. I don't complain and I don't say anything. I'm bathed and the woman is silent as she washes me. Her touch is gentle, but I don't feel anything.