Kill Me Or Kiss Me? (JenKook)

9

Jennie

"Ты узнаешь свое место, Дженни.  Ты ничто и никто, нежеланный сирота.  Скажи это! {You will learn your place, Jennie. You are nothing and no one, an unwanted orphan. Say it!}" The matron shouts in my face. A cigarette hangs between her fingers and the smell of tobacco wafts around the room.

Defiantly, I hold her stare, refusing to break, refusing to acknowledge what she wants from me. The rough wood of the chair bites against my bare thighs, exposed by the sundress I'm wearing. The leather belts that secure my wrists to the arms of the chair are worn, but they still chafe against my skin, leaving my wrists raw.

The matron likes to do this, to make sure the children here are well behaved and easy.

I'm not.

I know what they do with us, what they have planned. I refuse to accept this fate, and above all, I refuse to accept it for my sister.

"Отлично.  Помните, что вы это заслужили. {Fine. Remember you deserve this.}" She growls, before taking the cigarette and stamping it into my shoulder. It hurts, it really hurts. And then that smell, burnt flesh and melting skin. It's the first time I've smelt it, but it won't be the last.

The scene then shifts, the matron's face blurs and morphs until I'm staring at Erik. Leather restraints give way to rough hands, and the wooden chair becomes a concrete floor. I know what happens here, and already my breathing is picking up, my heart thrumming so fast I can barely stop myself from having a full blown panic attack.

I thrash against the restraining hands but all it earns me is a swift slap across my cheek. My head reels back and a sting erupts across my skin.

Erik's body lands on top of me, his hot breath blowing over my cheek. "Я собираюсь сломать тебя. {I'm going to break you.}" He hisses. It's at this exact moment that the part of me that still had a scrap of faith in humanity shatters.

Everything becomes a blur of torn clothing and adrenaline.

I fight, lashing out at anything within reach. Somewhere in the chaos I become removed, and instead of experiencing it myself, I become a bystander, and the girl being held down becomes Soojin.

Only she doesn't fight, and Nicholai never arrives to save her.

Tears track down my face, and I scream as I try to get to her, but I can't. It's as though my feet are set in concrete and all I can do is watch as my little sister shuts down and becomes nothing more than a fractured vessel in front of my eyes, her innocence stolen by monsters who have no right to take it.

Gasping awake, I drag in lungfuls of air. Tears track down my temples, while the telltale ache in my throat tells me I've been screaming. It takes me a second to remember where I am.

I can't remember the last time I stayed in the same place for more than a week or two, and the constant travelling never ceases to disorientate me.

Nightmares have plagued me for years. Well, they're not nightmares so much as memories. My entire childhood was one long nightmare, so I have plenty of material. This is new though. This is the first time Soojin has become the focus of my torment. That wasn't a memory.

I didn't break, but Soojin would break.

The thought is enough to make my blood run cold, and a tiny voice in the back of my mind begs me to hope, to hope that maybe that was not her fate. I should know better. There is no room in this world for hope, only cold reality.