Dead End ☣ (Bangchan x reader)

8. Dissociation

"Yah! Yang Jeongin!"

"Come back here you rat!" The bullies yelled.

"Tch, fvckers..." Jeongin clicked his tongue as he ran backstage of the arena.

"Where the fvck did he go?!" One of the boys in school uniform screamed.

"Let's go check the bathrooms he must be hiding there." Another one of the students suggested.

"That bich stole my cigarette!" They stomped off.

   Jeongin heaved a sigh as he slipped out from behind one of the enormous speakers. He dusted off his muddy uniform previously white but now stained with some of his blood and dirt. He put the stolen cigarette between his lips and inhaled a whiff.

*cough* *cough* *cough*

"Shlt, that's disgusting..."

   And with that, the wound near his lips started stinging, he had multiple as a result of his previous brawl with the same gang. But he shook it off and walked out of the backstage.

   As he passed, he could see most of the rooms used for medical treatment. Some of which were reserved for important people who couldn't be cramped up with the common folks.

   Jeongin rolled his eyes and kept walking downstairs until he reached the stadium's centre. He couldn't help but gawk at the amount of public present inside the arena.

   People of all ages, backgrounds, races and social statuses, were dumped into this pool of screams, laughs, agony, terror and cries. Some sick, injured, old and deserted; children from babies to teens like him, with no family no shelter and certainly no hope.

   It was no surprise they didn't have enough food, water or other resources to fill the bellies of about a million people. It had been this way, for 4 days. Since the day it all started.

This was the rescue camp.

   When he reached the centre of the stadium, he lay flat on the grass and stared blankly at the open sky. While at it, he remembered one more thing he had stolen from the military guards when he got into the camp. It was poking into his back through his pants pocket.

   Jeongin looked around, conscious of people having their eyes on him. And when he confirmed there weren't any, he pulled it out of his right pocket. He admired how cool and heavy it looked. Jet black, just the way he saw in the movies or maybe way more awesome. Yes, it was a gun.

   Having been brought up in the miserable slums with his pitifully lower-class family of 5 siblings and careless parents, the boy knew how to keep his pockets full. Not that he cared much about them but he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the rest of his family.

   They could be out there as zombies or in some other camp, completely safe. Or they could be right there, in that stadium and hadn't crossed paths with him yet. Either way, Jeongin wasn't interested in finding them.

   The thing he wanted to do more was to escape the camp and go to Seol where he could find a better place to live and didn't have to survive off of scraps any longer. And he knew a situation like this was a perfect invite for him to escape.

- - -

Headed South towards the said rescue camp, was a car with a smashed front.

"No that's not the way!" Y/n argued.

"I can't even see where I'm going the glass is all broken!" Minho argued back.

"I told you to get a better car 4 miles ago!"

"Yeah well they're all the same from outside!"

Y/n scanned the area from the window of the front seat.