Generations Expectation's | 8th member of BTS

43

| Korean Words meaning |

Still none, lol.

Anything in regular font = Korean

Anything in Italics = English

Anything in Bold = Spanish

Anything in Bold & Italics = Any other language besides Spanish, Korean, or English

*Was July 15th, Now July 19th*

Ae Cha's POV

As the days passed in a blur, I found myself caught between the remnants of my traumatic ordeal and the beginnings of my journey toward healing. The moments that followed my rescue were a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming emotions, as the police quickly swept me up and transported me to the nearest hospital.
I had no say, no protest, I was in shock that it was all finally over. I remember briefly the large growing crowd surrounding the target I was at. I remember being placed into the EMT's bed as everything became spotty, the soft indistinct shouts of EMTs over the sounds of new reporters arriving on the scene as I was transported away.
Everything felt muffled as if I were watching the world through a thick fog. The events that unfolded around me seemed distant and hazy, leaving me disoriented and struggling to comprehend the gravity of what had transpired. The weight of my captivity and the sudden rush of freedom left me numb, unable to process it all.

Arriving at the hospital, I was ushered into a world of sterile white walls and bustling medical personnel. Nurses and doctors surrounded me, their voices blending into a symphony of anxiety and urgency. My body, battered and broken, ached with each movement, reminding me of the physical toll my captivity had taken but it all seem to stay at bay when I was trying to survive now that I was safe and free all the pain came surfacing through all so unexpectedly.
I had grown accustomed to the pain, the hunger, and the thirst during my time as a captive. But now, as I lay on that hospital bed, the severity of my condition became apparent. The doctors diagnosed me with severe malnutrition and dehydration, my body starved for sustenance after days of captivity. Broken bones and sprained muscles, left untreated and improperly set, demanded attention.
As the medical professionals tended to my injuries, their hands gentle yet purposeful, I drifted in and out of consciousness. The haze that clouded my mind persisted, making it difficult to fully grasp the reality of my situation. It felt as though I were suspended between the past and the present, caught in a limbo of pain and healing. The nurses spoke softly to me, their words a comforting lullaby that reached my ears in fragments. They assured me that I was safe now, that I would receive the care and support I so desperately needed. But the details of their conversations, the specifics of my treatment, eluded me as I dazedly slipped in and out of awareness.
Days turned into nights, marked by the soft hum of medical equipment and the rhythmic beeping of monitors. Each passing moment brought me closer to recovery, both physically and emotionally. Slowly, my body responded to the nourishment it had been deprived of, regaining strength and vitality.

Yet, it was not just my physical wounds that required healing. The emotional scars of my ordeal ran deep, their presence a constant reminder of the trauma I had endured. In the quiet moments when the pain subsided and sleep evaded me, I grappled with the complexities of my emotions, seeking solace and understanding.
The hospital became my sanctuary, a space where my brokenness could be tended to with care and compassion. The nurses and doctors became my guiding lights, their expertise and kindness guiding me toward a path of recovery.
On day two or three, I remember briefly between long and staggering blinks before drifting off into medically induced sleep my Aunt Becca came running into my room, tears streaking and covering her face. Her hair was a mess, her sweater ajar and hanging loosely over her now thinned-out body, she looked worse for wear, but I had no idea how I looked at this moment so I couldn't judge. She scooped up my hand gently as if I was glass as she kneeled next to my hospital bed. The IV in my wrist tugged with her as she brought my hand to her lips and began placing warm and comforting kisses on my skin, her hands cupping mine so desperately as if I would slip away. I remember how feverishly warm I felt in her hold, and the way her breath tickled my fingers.
"Oh, Ae Cha....My baby girl, my baby, oh thank..-god,..- god thank god you're alive" she said, her face lifting to look at mine as more tears overcame her.
"Auntie...-" I had the energy to muffle out before I was drifting off once more.
If Auntie was here, she knew I was found, that means the boys must know. I smiled to myself before I was out.