MALEVOLENT HEART | TK

Chapter Twenty Six

***

You must've made some kind of mistake
I asked for death, but instead I'm awake
The Devil told me, "no room for cheats"
I thought I'd sold my soul, but he kept the receipt

So leave a light on, I'm coming home
It's getting darker, but I'll carry on
The sun don't shine, but it never did
And when it rains, it fucking pours, but I think I like it
And you know that I'm in love with the mess, I think I like it

***

There was nothing around him. 

No furniture, not even a chair or a table. The room he had been pushed in was completely dark, the epitome of hell, and he knew it was all on purpose. He was aware they've thrown him in that room because they were scared of him, of what he could do, of how he could make use of anything.

He could kill people with a pencil, even with his own hands. He didn't need much to turn that place upside down and they knew that.

So they have decided to give him nothing and let him feel or see nothing.

If there would have been any other person instead of him, they would have been driven to insanity from the first 72 hours. Sitting in the dark, without nothing to do, would drive any person mad. But he was not normal–he was not even completely human after all.

Not that they knew. Not many people knew what exactly stood behind the curtains of his mind.

His feet were under him, his hands clasped in his lap as he sat with his eyes closed on the tiled floor. He was breathing slowly, aware that he was still being watched–they were waiting for him to go mad, to scream, to do something.

He would never resort to such inhumane actions. He would never step that low.

Inhaling, Jeongguk resumed his counting.

8707 breaths and he kept going.

His leg was still healing in the spot where the bullet had cut his skin. Not pierced, fortunately. He still needed his strength to get out of there.

Once in every 30 thousands breaths, Jeongguk got up and walked for ten minutes. He counted each second. He then worked out for another 30 minutes.

And then he stopped, sat down and counted again.

He was driving THEM mad. From behind the screens, he could tell how angry they were slowly becoming, how they were falling in pools of fire that were boiling them alive from the inside out. They were slowly melting away and he was enjoying it.

They seemed to have forgotten, or perhaps did not know, that he could see them, hear them.

Know what they were thinking.

He was, after all, connected to every piece of technology in their compound.

Jeongguk knew that they have started to feed him less and less in an attempt to weaken him. He knew that five days have passed since the attack and he knew that the people behind the screens did not want him dead.

They wanted Taehyung.

And that thought alone made Jeongguk boil. He clasped his hands tighter, rolled his head and his shoulders–he was preparing for a war that was soon to come. Mind games have been his specialty for too long but now? Now the play was reaching its final act and Jeongguk was sure it would be dramatic. The fire in his veins was getting stronger by the minute, all because he knew they wanted Taehyungs–his Taehyung. They were all fools for thinking they could even touch him, that he would let them touch a strand of his hair. The final act would be tragic.