The Symbol Of Darkness

㊶Faith

 
Taehyung’s huddled-up body was laid on the cold floor of the dingy cell, frail and throbbing with pain.

He slipped in and out of consciousness throughout the harrowing night, either by sleepiness or by the amount of pain that was so immense his brain couldn’t withstand.

The only thing he could remember after the effect of the dart’s substance wore off was unrelenting punches being thrown to his stomach until blood spewed from his mouth.

It didn’t make sense to him, and he kept analyzing his condition as he lay there shivering from the cold. Why did it hurt that much? Why did he cough blood? He had received a similar beating in the past, but he didn’t remember it hurting to that extent. Were Ah In’s punches just that strong? Or was something wrong with him? 

Within the vile enclosure of the cell, he had lost track of time — he didn’t know if it was day or night, or even for how long he was locked up in there. 

Soft weeping kept ringing in Taehyung’s groggy senses, along with pleas. He could identify most of the noises as voices of women, but they sounded distant to his ears. Maybe it was because he was isolated from the other captives, or he was just that much out of it. Maybe both, he thought. 

His wan voice got mixed with the sounds echoing through the place in a hoarse request of help. He wasn’t sure if he spoke with a loud enough voice to be heard, and he realized. The dizziness that clasped his senses made everything sound so distant because his own voice rang with a distorted tune in his ears. 

San Joon, one of the guards, furrowed his brows as he threw a glance to the left. “I think I hear Taehyung’s voice.”

The other two seemed uninterested and maintained their focus on their phones. Byeo San laughed at a scene of a movie he was watching, and Se Nyu kept typing away, sending texts. 

A sigh pushed out of San Joon as he viewed them with discontent. Why did he even expect them to care? They never did. 

He pushed himself off his chair and wandered towards Taehyung’s cell. The sound of his voice increased as he edged closer, realizing he was right; Taehyung was asking for help. 

He stood outside of the cell and his body grew tense after a brief observation of Taehyung’s state. Although the darkness of the cell impeded him from taking a thorough view of him, he could discern the subtle tremor of his form and the dampness on his face. 

“Taehyung? What’s wrong?”

The said man’s eyes split open and fluttered heavily. Everything whirled in his vision, and he shut them again as an urge to vomit crept up. “Hurts... Please...”

San Joon’s anxiety flared. The thought that he could be faking it bloomed in his mind, but it died just as fast. He was seasoned enough to know when someone was pretending to be in pain to get a chance of escaping. And Taehyung definitely wasn’t one of them.

He immediately bolted for the exit in search of Ah In. He checked his office first, and upon finding it empty, he scurried to his room. He knocked and waited, but the realization that he would probably still be sleeping soon hit him since it was only seven in the morning. 

He dared to open the door and found him, as he had thought, asleep in his bed. He approached him and reached out to shake him. After a moment’s hesitation, he nudged his shoulder as he called his name. 

Ah In jolted awake and drowsily examined the person who dared to wake him. “What the fuck do you want?”

San Joon recoiled in disquiet. “I’m really sorry, sir. But Taehyung... He’s not okay.”