방탄 소년단
"That... gash," I muttered, my nose rumpled in disdain - and sympathy for the man - as I studied the newly developing scar on his right eye.
It was fresh, the skin that surrounded the vermilion wound was puffy and distended, as if it just hap...
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Rey's pov
My body shivered vigorously as I rested the side of my head atop the brick wall beside me, I had my knees pulled at my chest, hugging my legs, burying my fingers deep into the cloth of my wet clothes, my limbs dancing with the odd cold draft that wafted through the bleak basement.
My heart smashed against my chest at any little noise that went off. A creak, an opening door from inside the house above me, footsteps from above. I listened carefully to those, making sure they weren't headed down to t he basement.
I looked down at my wrists, the imprint of the zip ties remained, along with a few other cuts and bruises that I received from the many hits Romero gave me. My legs shivered when I brushed my fingers against them, bruised too, no doubt, with the many times I was forced onto my knees. It was my form of punishment, to rest on my knees and hold my balance as Romero ranted on and on about the many issues and struggles he had faced while he was in hiding, sporadically dumping cold water over my head, expected to hold my posture, all while blindfolded.
I winced, reaching for the back of my head when I recalled the many times he yanked at my hair. My trembling fingers went over the tender spots, sinking in a deep breath when my fingers grazed my pained scalp.
Of course, I received punishment for ever dating a man like Yoongi, as well. I didn't think anything could be worse than what he was already putting me through, however, I was all too oblivious to realize that things could get much worse.
I stretched my arms out, still shaking, I blinked a few times, my vision oddly blurred, unable to focus on anything. The cuts seemed puffy and red. They weren't too deep, most of them were surface scratches, still painful, pulsing from the pain.
I wasn't too concerned about my external injuries. Not when there was a massive chain tied to my left ankle that would prevent me from getting anywhere far from here. It was clasped tightly around my limb, nearly making my ankle go cold, my shoes removed from my feet so that I was bare and cold, my socks damp from the moist dirt. I was surprised they didn't leave me down there entirely naked, wanting to put me through the worst punishments. I guess I should have been grateful I still donned the clothes on my back.
I don't think there was anything worse than the random checkups Romero had his men do. Every now and then, one of the guys came down to the basement to check on me, and make sure I hadn't somehow left the spot I was fixated on.
I didn't budge even an inch. I somehow remained in one place, ignoring them as they examined me as though I were a test animal that needed constant observation. After about five minutes or so, they would leave me alone in that hideous basement.
My racing mind attempted to try and spook me, wondering what else could have been down there in that basement. What could sneak in? Had they locked anyone else unknowingly to me? I pulled my knees closer to my chest when I heard random sounds creeping down the empty hallways, the fluorescent lights only added to my spiraling insanity, buzzing derisively at my feeble body.
