She's Mine || BTS x ATEEZ

Chapter 3

Unlike my cell in the concrete hall, when I open my eyes this time, they are met with fields of vibrant blues. I squint as beams of light pierce through windows above me. My eyes burn. I assess my body in my head. Feet still works, check. Arms still work, check. Neck still works, check. I look around, taking in my new entrapment. This time, I am in a room, a bedroom.

I look down. I am lying on top of a royal blue, velvet couch. The walls around me are charcoal concrete (very industrial). The floor is covered with a patchwork of woven and animal hide rugs. On the far wall, a bed. A giant bed. Ten people could easily fit in this bed. It is spilling over with pillows and blankets, all different shades of rich blues.

Opposite the wall of the bed, to the left of the velvet couch, is a fireplace made of black stone, and a large golden mirror hung above the mantle. In the fireplace, a small fire burned, making the room warm and smell of burning wood.

Beside the couch is a small gold table. On the table, a note sits next to a glass of water. I look around the room again. There is no one in here but me. I reach for the note. My back and neck tweak with pain. My muscles ache. I feel like I was hit by a car. Now that I am in normal lighting, I notice the bruises and scratches that crisscross my arms. Not only do I feel like it, but I look like it, too.

I open the note. On the paper is written:

Dinner is at 9. Be clean and dressed.

"Wow," I stare at the note, "What have I gotten myself into?"

I looked around the room again, but this time, I looked for something that would help me tell what time it was. I stand up, making a quick circle around the room, marking things in my mind. That bust could be a good weapon. This window has a draft, maybe I could break it. On one of the nightstands next to the bed was a clock, well, more like a rock spray painted gold with two clock hands in the center of it. I guess this is what rich people call decor. The time read somewhere between seven-thirty and seven-thirty-five.

Be clean and dressed.

Does that mean they want me to actually bathe here? I walk to a door left of the bed. I turn the knob, but it is locked. Locked is not what I was hoping for, but at least it will give me a little warning before someone comes into the room. 

There is another door next to the fireplace. This time when I turn the knob the door opens. It reveals a bathroom the size of a studio apartment in New York City. Like everything else in this place, the main room was constructed with concrete, but the accents of black quartz and gold made the room look expensive. After picking my mouth up from the floor, I started to look around cautiously. You can not trust anything in this place.

On the counter next to the double sinks, is a black cocktail dress. I run my fingers over the short hem. "You have to be kidding me." I hold up the dress. It's black silk with subtle ruching and straps as thin as hair. I would rather wear a sack. I put the dress back down, turning to face a free-standing bathtub that could easily fit three people. It looks more like a small pool than a bathtub. I ran my fingers over the lip of the tub. It was made of black quartz with veins of gold crossing over its surface. I slid my hand to the gold faucet, turning the water on.

If they want me clean, I will not protest because honestly, I feel pretty gross, so I understand their discomfort. Above the tub, is a row of square mirrors, reflecting my image at me. I barely recognize myself. My hair is matted, my face is covered with dirt, and my body is speckled with bruises. I lean closer to the mirror. A red substance stains my lips. I lick it, tasting the iron and salt: blood.

I remember it now. His face over mine, dripping with blood and lust, and I was a follower, bending to his every whim. What is that? What makes me do those things? I block the memory. I don't want to think about it anymore. The color of shame creeps into my cheeks, and all I want to do is cry. I feel so embarrassed. I feel shameful, but mostly, I feel scared. I am so confused. Nothing that has happened makes any sense. I feel like a pawn being moved around a board that I can't even see. I feel powerless.