・❥・ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴜꜱʜ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. Jung Wooyoung, known for his hot pink cosplay outfits, has blossomed with confidence thanks to his boyfriend, San. Enduring a time apart due to San's work, Wooyoung has held his own. But upon San's return, the dynami...
The next two days has stretched, as the sun filtered through the window, I lay on the bed, my arms and ankles locked in restraints. I could barely move, the sharp metal digging into my skin with every slight shift. I felt the relentless buzzing of my phone in my pocket—a lifeline that Joon didn't know about. But any attempt to reach for it would tear my skin even more.
Helplessly, I looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face. The constant buzzing was a cruel reminder of the outside world, so close yet impossibly far. Joon had tried to feed me, but I was too terrified to eat, too scared to even breathe deeply in this room. His instability was beyond repair, and the look in his eyes every time they met mine made my stomach churn with dread.
Trapped in the darkness, the relentless pressure of Joon's presence was suffocating. He tried to force me to eat, constantly hovering and attempting to soothe the pain with his touch. Each contact made my skin crawl with disgust; his closeness only intensified the terror that gripped me. I couldn't close my eyes without nightmares flooding in—visions of him harming San or anyone else who dared to intervene. His declarations of love were poisoned by his actions, twisted into a form of control that was anything but affectionate. When things didn't go his way, his frustration would erupt into violence, each strike amplifying the fear and pain that haunted me.
The pounding in my head was relentless, echoing the throbbing pain in my arm where the blood steadily trickled down, staining the dark confines of the room. Anger and frustration built within me, fueled by the unbearable physical pain and the horror of my captivity. Each moment was a battle against despair, each second a struggle to maintain a shred of hope.
I lay there, trying to minimize any interaction, avoiding his gaze or any form of communication that might provoke another outburst. The darkness of the room felt as if it were closing in, a tangible force that mirrored the despair closing around my heart. My thoughts raced, desperate for a plan, any means of escape from this nightmare.
Desperation clawed at me as I inched my arm toward my pocket, feeling the metal restraints cut deeper into my skin. I held back a scream, the pain almost unbearable, but I couldn't afford to give up. Each movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my body, but the need to escape, to reach my phone, kept me going.
With a grunt of determination, I managed to push my fingers into my pocket, feeling the edge of my phone. My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly inched it out, the effort making my vision blur with tears. The pain was excruciating, but I bit my lip, focusing on the hope that this small device could be my salvation.
