MERCENARY 3: Descent into Madness |BTS JIMIN FF|

5

'J!! Jimin!!!'

I nearly had a heart attack being shaken awake violently.

I looked around myself to see Jin and Namjoon standing in front of me while Hoseok shook me.

'What?' I barely squinted my eyes open, wondering why it's so light in my room

'What?! You left that fucking note and we find you here! You scared the shit out of me!' Hoseok yelled at my face, raising his hand to slap me but giving up quickly. 'I thought you were dead!'

I looked down and around myself, trying to figure out where I was, only to find myself in the dirt. My clothes and my hands look like I've rolled through mud. I never went back inside the house. I fell asleep next to her grave.

'Well, I'm still breathing.' I mutter

'Why you gotta be creepy, though? You can sleep in your bed.'

It wasn't exactly my plan to sleep out here. I just wanted to sit here. Be with her. Tell her about how much I love her and miss her. But I did none of those things. I only ended up crying more and must have dozed off.

'You should shower. And eat something.' Namjoon spoke this time, trying his best not to make it sound like an order

'I'm not hungry.'

'You lost almost 10 kilograms in the last 10 days. You haven't eaten a thing in days. You need to have something.'

I didn't have the strength to argue or complain. And my eyes went over to Jin, remembering every word he told me last night. I said I'd stay alive. I have to. At least for a while.

He only smiled at me, giving me the tiniest nod.

Without a word, I got up and walked away, going up to our room. Maybe a shower won't be so bad.

Getting inside the room wasn't any easier than yesterday. These memories of her lingering around me won't ever leave. I don't want them to. No matter how much they hurt.

Walking into this bathroom, I paused when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I came closer, observing the man staring back at me. I can't recognise him.

The man in the mirror is a walking sorrow. His dirty clothes are hanging off his shoulders, where his shirt is too big on him. So, I took off the shirt only to find that his collarbones are sticking out no matter how he turns and moves. Even his arms look thinner, veins colouring his pale skin with blue lines, more visible than ever. His hair is a mess. The silverish colour now turned brown from the dirt. And his face... swollen eyes to the point where they are barely open. Chapped, dry lips, nearly white in colour. His cheeks sunk in, creating depth where there was no before. And his skin lost the colour, making it look almost porcelainy.

Is... is this really me? It's only been a few days, and... this looks nothing like me.

I touched my own face looking at the mirror to make sure that I'm not just looking at someone else, but the person perfectly mimicking my movements tells me that it is indeed me I'm looking at.

For the first time, I'm glad that she's not here to see me like this. I can't even look at myself.

Running away from the mirror, I ran under the water, hoping that it would wash away some of the pain with the dirt, but it only felt like it hurt more once the shampoo she used to love filled the bathroom with its scent.

Fighting another breakdown, I had to stop in front of the mirror once again to take a look at the wounds on my chest. From the pain of missing her, I feel no pain whatseover even thought I have two holes in either side of my chest, almost symetrical in position. They're both right under the outer edge of my collarbones on each side, almost in my shoulders. If they were any closer to the middle, or lower, I'd have been gone. Whoever shot me is a crappy shot. They should have aimed lower.