『"They call her '𝒴𝑒𝓊𝓇𝒾' or say she's one."』✰
『"Why?"』
『"Because you can't see her, she's a ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ.』✰
Started on: 14 /05/23
REWRITTEN ON: 27/10/23
Finished on: ??
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Yeuri The name of a calm female Ghost, who can be aggressive when triggered.
༺♥༻
"Y/N," the interrogator's voice carried a sense of urgency, "your time is ticking, im getting inpatient!" he yelled out at her, his spit flying out places.
She sat in silence, her gaze fixed on her restrained hands resting on the cold, unfeeling metal table before her. Her eyes lacked any semblance of emotion, their depths resembling an abyss of brokenness.
"I don't remember," she replied in a soft voice, the words escaping her parched throat, "...I was never involved in his operations." The words were far from the truth, but she dared not raise her eyes from her interlocked fingers. The intensity of his gaze seemed to bore into her very soul.
Hassan Zyani, the name resonated in her mind, carrying the weight of her own worth. He knew her value and how precious she was to their cause. In times of conflict, she understood she was their secret weapon, a pawn to be used and perhaps sacrificed for their gain.
"Y/N," he began, his tone laden with cold determination, "I never asked if you didnt know," He circled the room, hands buried in his pockets, adopting the swagger of a Japanese high school delinquent. His lips curled into a vile, furious smirk. Abruptly, he pivoted and forcefully slammed his hands upon the table. Rising, he proceeded to dig his fingers into Y/N's short hair, gripping a fistful and wrenching her head backward. Y/N responded by tightly shutting her eyes and biting down hard on her lip, a silent mantra echoing in her mind: 'Stay quiet, reveal no emotion.'
"I asked you where it is!" he growled, his voice piercing her ear with intensity.
Hassan's complexion grew even more crimson, the coursing blood within his veins boiling fervently. A pronounced vein throbbed on his imposing, bald head. He altered his tone momentarily, a semblance of "Mr. Nice Guy" appearing.
"Where are those missiles, Y/N?" he inquired softly, his feigned gentleness disconcerting. "I am fully aware of your knowledge regarding it's whereabout, so im not gonna ask again.." His grip on her hair relinquished as he delivered a stinging slap. Hassan then retreated a couple of paces, releasing an exasperated sigh while placing his hands on his hips.
His internal fury manifested in a sharp bite to the delicate skin inside his cheek, a futile attempt to keep his composure in check. The escalating tension led to an irrational outburst; a chair in his path bore the brunt of his frustration, picking it up and throwing it against the wall, shattering upon violent contact with the unyielding concrete wall. The cacophonous crash reverberated throughout the room, filling the air with a palpable tension. Y/N's heart raced, and for a moment, she anticipated that he might wield the chair as a weapon against her. In her unwavering resolve, she had decided she would never divulge the whereabouts of the missiles, not even in the direst of circumstances, even if it meant enduring the severing of crushing or ripping her limbs off.
