ENG - Fractured Fates ʰʸᵘⁿˡᶦˣ

28

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Felix POV

Without much choice, we were now at my front door, which radiated a deceptive sense of security in the morning light. My heart raced as I thought about how he had just kidnapped Jisung and me in the middle of the night. In our haste, we didn't have time to pick up our bags, which also contained my front door key. So now I was locked out of my own door.
With a purposeful, almost sinister movement, his hand plunged into the depths of his pocket and pulled out something that flashed dangerously in the dim morning light. He knelt in front of the door lock and within seconds, which seemed like an eternity, the door opened with a soft, almost menacing click. His fingers worked skillfully and precisely, as if he had done this a hundred times before.
He placed his cold hand on my shoulder as he rose and pushed me into the darkness of my apartment with a force that almost made me lose my balance. I could feel an air of contempt and superiority in his touch that made me shudder. He entered himself and the door slammed shut behind us, as if turning away from me and trapping me in my fate. I had no choice but to bring him here, whether I wanted to or not.

Tears had been flowing from my eyes non-stop since we left the hospital because I was really scared of him. First there was that blue-haired man who had shot someone in cold blood in front of me - a shot that was supposed to be aimed at me. I could still hear the sound of the gunshot in my ears, mingling with the noise of my heartbeat.
Then he put the gun to my head, his eyes as cold as the steel of the barrel, and threatened to kill me. I could still feel the sensation of warm blood splattering my face as the man holding me at the time fell to the ground with a lifeless thud.

Then there was the fact that Hyunjin and his roommate just made a corpse disappear like that, as if it was child's play, a macabre game they were playing with death. They did it so naturally and routinely that I realized it wasn't their first time. He threatened to kill Jisung and me too, and his voice was so full of conviction that I had no doubt he would have done it if Minho hadn't stopped him.
And then there was Kazuha. I didn't know what exactly had happened to her, but the sounds and screams coming from the phone were so horrible and full of pain and despair that they brought the wildest horror scenarios to life in my head. I couldn't help but imagine what had been done to her and I knew I couldn't bear it if I ever found out.
And to top it all off, this man was now living with me, somehow. I was now trapped in my own apartment, with no way to escape.

With tears hanging around the edges of my eyes, I desperately tried to take a deep breath to ease my anxiety a little. But no matter how hard I tried, how much I clutched my trembling hands to my quivering chest, it didn't work. I was even afraid to move a millimeter for fear that he would point the gun at me again, which could snuff out my life in a single second.
With a thud, he dropped his heavy bag on the cold floor next to me. He pushed me further into the apartment, which no longer seemed like my cozy home, but from now on like a personal prison, dominated by Hyunjin's influence.

Once in the living room, I remained rooted to the spot while he dropped onto the couch and threw his head back in stress. The couch, which had once been so comfortable and inviting, had now become a throne of oppression on which he sat and dominated me.
It remained silent for a while, only the ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft panting of my own breathing could be heard. Then he lifted his head again and looked at me, his eyes cold and penetrating. His gaze alone made me flinch. More tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, leaving a trail of despair on my cheeks. "Just do what you usually do here at home," he said in a calm but menacing voice that made me shiver. "You'll hardly notice me," he added, pulling out his cell phone, a familiar but now menacing sight.
I swallowed hard, my throat as dry and raw as sandpaper, and looked down at the floor. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding painfully in my chest.

Funnily enough, even though so many terrible things had happened in the last few hours, a greater fear was buzzing around in my head, a fear that threatened to overwhelm me.
What if he found out that I was ill?
What if he found out that, like last time, I was losing feeling throughout my body and writhing in pain again?
What would he think then?
That I was expendable anyway, a useless, sick thing that he could kill on the spot because I was going to die anyway and he wouldn't have to go through the stress?
The fear of him finding out about me and my illness was greater than what would happen next. I knew how completely absurd and stupid it was for me to think that.

I don't know how much time had passed as I had completely lost track of time. He looked at me again, raising an eyebrow, accompanied by an annoyed roll of his eyes. The anger-contorted face he had before was gone and the gentle, soft features that made him look so innocent and pure were back on his face.
His appearance didn't match what he was doing at all, although I could only make that up and wasn't absolutely sure about it. He was a criminal, that much was certain. I was just unsure if I wanted to find out what kind of criminal.
"Stop being so stupid. It annoys me," he muttered in a calm, almost quiet voice and sighed. My body, however, refused to move. Not even a sound would come out if I tried to say anything. My hands clawed at my arms to stifle the trembling that was already making itself felt in my knees. I could feel the fear slowly crushing me.

When Hyunjin realized that I wasn't answering, he stood up and slowly walked towards me, but stopped two steps in front of me. "Listen, Felix," he began, brushing his red hair back from his face in a slow, almost elegant gesture. His eyes glinted coldly and calculatingly. "I'm not in the mood for this either. You're scared. That's completely understandable after what you've seen. And believe me, I would have preferred it if that hadn't happened." His voice was calm, almost reassuring, but I felt his words give me goose bumps - definitely not the good kind.
I couldn't help but stare at him and sink into his dark, almost black eyes. I saw nothing but emptiness and coldness in them, an abyss that threatened to pull me into the depths. "I hate unnecessary work, it only irritates me. So do us both a favor and do... whatever else you do here," he continued, a cold smile spreading across his face.

I could feel my heartbeat getting faster and faster and my breathing shallower and more frantic. "There are only two things that will be important to both of us while we live together," he said in a voice that sounded as soft as a feather and yet as sharp as a razor. He raised his index finger to symbolize a one. "One: Don't tell anyone anything about what you saw and what happened. You will be able to live in peace, maybe even someday without the fear that we will harm you or your family. In the best-case scenario, that will even be the case."
He paused for a moment, during which I could only hear the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears. A slight smile flitted across his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were as dark and unfathomable as a nighttime abyss. I felt another shiver run down my spine.

Then he added his second finger and made a peace sign to symbolize a two. "Secondly, keep calm and I will too. I may not seem like it, but I'm pretty straightforward. You don't bug me, I don't bug you, pretty simple, right? Basically, nothing will change between us, apart from this superficial relationship we already had in the hospital. I'm still the same."
His words echoed in my head as he looked at me with a questioning look. But all I saw in his eyes was a dark threat that made me shiver to the core. "Do you understand?" he asked quietly, but his words sounded like thunder in my head.

My heart was beating so hard against my chest that it almost cut off my breath and drowned out his words, which I was struggling to understand. I felt my throat constrict and new tears welled up in my eyes, which I desperately tried to suppress. My body was shaking uncontrollably and I had the feeling that I would collapse at any moment. Finally, I nodded and gave a weak, tearful 'okay' as I exhaled shakily.
Satisfied, he nodded and lowered his hand again. "So stop crying and get a move on, it annoys me when you just stand here like this," he said in a voice that was cold and heartless, while his smile disappeared again.

He turned away and walked back towards the couch as he stretched his way there. When he wasn't so close to me anymore, I felt like I could breathe better again because his closeness was almost choking me off and suffocating me.
"I'm going to trust you not to call anyone while I go to sleep now," he said, grabbing my blanket that was on the couch and spreading it out already. He pulled his top over his head and then looked in my direction. "I can trust you, can't I?" he asked quietly. I flinched and averted my eyes.
My fear of him was too great. But I couldn't manage more than a nod.

It would never occur to me to call the police or anyone else. They wouldn't believe me anyway. Besides, my fear of Hyunjin was greater, or rather my fear of this blue-haired man.
"Fine," he said and threw his pants on the floor, replacing them with a pair of sweatpants that he fished out of his pocket. Then he lay down and pulled the blanket up and closed his eyes. "All this stress is making me tired," he mumbled and yawned. I looked at him as he lay there, so peaceful and innocent, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just threatened me emotionally and physically.

Some time later, when the world around me seemed to stand still, I noticed the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. A breath of relief flowed through my body, which was marked by the tension.
My heart was still racing wildly in my chest and my hands were trembling slightly. I felt my knees go weak and I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing.
With the back of my trembling hand, I wiped the wet traces of tears from my face, which felt like ice-cold rivulets on my skin and ran down my cheek. My eyes burned from all the crying and my throat felt raw, as if I hadn't had a drink in days.

I finally moved as if I were a puppet being pulled by invisible strings. I took off my heavy shoes, which I was still wearing. I crept with quiet, almost inaudible steps into the bedroom, which was lit only by the faint, pale morning light that made its way through the cracks in the blinds and cast faint shadows on the wall.
I opened the closet, which creaked softly, to grab some fresh clothes as I was still wearing my work clothes. They also still had a few splashes of the dark, almost black blood that had splattered on my face earlier and was driving me mad with its metallic smell. I couldn't help but stare at the blood and remember the horrible images that had stuck in my head.

As I held the clean clothes in my hand, I glanced at my bed. Only now did I realize how incredibly tired I was, not from the night shift, but from all the crying that was straining my eyes and making them burn. But before I lay down, I snuck into the bathroom. I felt like the blood of the man I shot was still on my body, staining me as if I was the one to blame for his death.
I turned on the tap and adjusted the temperature until the water was pleasantly warm and clouds of steam filled the room.

I took off my clothes and left them on the cold floor. I stood under the shower and the water splashing on my skin felt cleansing and invigorating, as if it was freeing my soul from the darkness that surrounded me and threatened to overwhelm me. I felt the non-existent blood and dirt being washed from my body and swirling down the drain. I soaped myself thoroughly and tried to banish the horrible images from my mind.
I hurried, fearing that the sound of the water from the shower would wake Hyunjin and put him in an even worse mood than he was already in.

After I had showered, I slipped barefoot into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room, to get a flat bottle of water. I opened the fridge and took out a bottle. My body cried out for moisture, as if it needed to replace the tears I had shed.
My throat felt like sandpaper and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. When I had the bottle and closed the fridge again, I turned around and looked at Hyunjin, who was fast asleep. The open kitchen gave me a good view of him, who looked almost angelic in the weak light of the sun.

Driven inwardly by a surge of curiosity and caution, I cautiously crept towards him. My gaze rested on him as he lay there, wrapped in my pink blanket, which made his appearance seem even more childlike and innocent. It was the first time I had seen him sleeping so peacefully. His breathing was even and calm.
I had only seen him sleep once before, and that was at the beginning when he was admitted and the painkillers literally knocked him out. The sight of him then almost tore my heart apart, because he looked as helpless and vulnerable as a little bird with a broken wing.
Now, asleep, with his gentle features and slightly parted lips, he didn't seem like someone who did terrible things. On the contrary: his red hair, which fell wildly in his face, gave him something innocent and pure, as if he had dyed his hair fiery red in a rebellious phase against his parents' wishes. But this façade was deceptive, because behind it was a man who did terrible things.

The longer I watched him sleep, the heavier my heart became. I couldn't understand how someone who could seem so innocent and pure could go so far astray to hurt, even kill, people in such a cruel way.
I felt a sense of sadness and pity rise up in me, but also a feeling of anger and despair. Somehow I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how, let alone should I. I wanted him to be punished for what he had done, but I also wanted him to have the chance to change and lead a better life.

Inevitably, I wondered whether there must have been an event in his life that drove him to commit these acts: an inevitable chain of circumstances that led him down this dark path and he had no choice but to follow it.
Or was it the wrong people in his environment that led him to plunge into the abysses of humanity? In many documentaries about criminals, it was often the wrong friends, bad influences or something traumatic from the past that led them to commit such acts. Or was it poverty that made them desperate and carry out such acts to get quick money?

A heavy lump formed in my throat as I realized I was slowly developing compassion for him, even though I knew I shouldn't. I crept quietly back to my bedroom, where the first thing I did was take a big gulp from the water bottle, as if to wash down the roiling emotions that were raging like a storm in my chest.
Then I lay down, but sleep would not come. Instead, my thoughts revolved around him, his actions, the question of whether sometimes you really didn't have a choice and whether crime was sometimes the only path you could take.

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