Don't Call Me Angel || VMIN

είκοσι ένα

TW// violence and assault

Tyres skidded to a halt and Jimin felt himself fall forward, only to be grabbed by the collar of his top, catching him at the cost of restricting his airflow even more. He wanted to check the state of the bruises on his neck, the tender muscles aching when he couldn't pry his hands away from behind him. From the pain he was feeling, he knew every wound on his body was suffering.

Low voices muttered to each other as the doors opened around him, filling the car with a bitter breeze. He didn't know how long he had been sitting in that cramped space, digging his nails into his palms every time they had turned a particularly harsh corner, but it must have been well over the hour Jackson had predicted. Time had ceased to exist in that backseat and he had failed miserably in his attempt to keep track of the passing seconds, unable to make it near fifty without losing count. He could only blame his blinding panic for that.

Throughout the journey, hands had frequently brushed his thighs, his collarbones, and his waist, making him flinch every time. He didn't recognise the calloused touch and disgust coursed through him at each suggestive stroke.

Dread pitted in the dancer's stomach when he heard the door next to him slide open, light filtering through the gauze-like material practically smothering him. That meant it wasn't yet sunset, although this piece of information was about as useful to him as a lump of gold in the middle of the desert. In short, it didn't help and he had no idea what the time had been when they left, nor did he know what direction they had travelled in.

Mere moments later, he was seized around his arm and dragged out, whimpering quietly. Without stopping, the pitiless grip towed him across a gravelled path and up a flight of stairs. Whoever it belonged to didn't seem particularly bothered by the number of times he stumbled. Aches sprouted all over Jimin's body and he felt the full effect of his beatings now that the last of the medication had worn off. He could also feel that the cut on his cheek had reopened, due to the small drops of blood falling like tears to his lips, the metallic taste making him gag.

Something snagged at the back of his neck, roughly tugging the bag off his head and giving him whiplash. The ravenette choked back a whine of pain, not wanting to give his captures the pleasure of knowing they caused it. It was a bit late for that, though, because tear tracks stained his face and his eyes were red and puffy. He tried to adjust to his surroundings, squinting at the lack of light.

It was moments before Jimin realised he was alone, still bound, but alone in an unfamiliar setting. Dark shadows spilled from the corners of the room, coating the empty space in an inky black. There were no windows on the four walls and the only light sources were the two fluorescent tubes spewing a dim glow at the far end of the ceiling.

Directly opposite the chair he was tied to, taking up most of the grey wall behind it, was a mirror. However, judging by his distorted reflection, it was a two-way mirror. He shivered at the idea that someone was watching him. Even though he knew they could see him, there was no way of looking back through and squinting his eyes didn't help either. What made him shudder more was the metal grate near the tips of his feet, breaking the otherwise neatly tiled floor. He had watched way too many horror movies to question what it was for and he desperately willed himself to be wrong, praying silently to a god he didn't even believe in.

The door to his left swung open, snagging loudly on its hinges, which sent the shrill grind of metal against rusted metal ricocheting around the room. Two men walked in, one clad in dark clothes, that would be ideal for covering up blood stains, and the other dressed in a smoky suit. Neither of them were Jackson. Maybe, he had just dropped the dancer off and traded him over to a stranger for a sweet price. He didn't have the faintest clue what had happened and, right now, that wasn't his greatest concern.