Downfall || Seongjoong

- fifty-five -

Hongjoong || Seonghwa 

The next morning, I woke up in bed, every muscle in my body aching. The pain was intense, radiating from the deep bruises covering my skin. 

I tried to shift slightly, but even the smallest movement sent sharp jolts of agony through me. I bit back a groan, not wanting to draw any attention.

Across from me, my father sat up in bed, whistling a cheerful tune as if nothing had happened. He looked disturbingly at ease, a stark contrast to my battered state. 

The room was filled with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, but the serene ambiance only heightened the surreal horror of my situation.

My father glanced at me, his eyes devoid of any sympathy. "Good morning, Seonghwa," he said, his tone unnervingly casual. "I trust you slept well?"

I didn't respond, my gaze fixed on the ceiling as I tried to focus on breathing through the pain. Every inch of me felt like it was on fire, the bruises and cuts a painful reminder of the previous night's torment.

A knock at the door interrupted the silence, and the servant entered, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and something else I couldn't quite make out. 

The servant's eyes flickered with a brief look of pity as they set the tray down on the bedside table. My father took the cup of coffee and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma before taking a sip.

"Ah, nothing like a good cup of coffee to start the day," he remarked, ignoring the tension in the room.

Then, with a sickeningly sweet smile, he picked up the small box that had been on the tray. "And now for your surprise," he said, opening the box to reveal a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold.

My heart sank at the sight, a fresh wave of dread washing over me. I knew better than to hope for any kindness from him, but this... this was something I hadn't anticipated. 

He held up the handcuffs, letting them dangle in front of me as if they were some kind of twisted gift.

"I thought we might have a little more fun today," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Don't you agree?"

I looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. The room felt colder, the air thick with the promise of more pain and humiliation. I tried to steel myself, to summon some inner strength, but the previous night's ordeal had left me feeling utterly broken.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Remember, Seonghwa, this is all your doing. If you hadn't reported me, we wouldn't be here. You brought this on yourself."

The handcuffs flew through the air, striking my face with a sharp sting as they left a scratch on my cheek. 

The pain was minor compared to what I had already endured, but it was a jarring reminder of my father's cruelty. I looked down, my heart pounding in my chest, hoping against hope that he wouldn't make me put them on.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint clinking of the handcuffs as they settled beside me. 

I didn't dare look up, my gaze fixed on the sheets, trying to avoid my father's eyes. But I could feel his stare, a heavy, oppressive presence that made it hard to breathe.

Then, without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so I was forced to look at him. 

"What are you waiting for?" he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "They are not fucking accessories for you to stare at. Turn around."

My body moved on autopilot, the ingrained response to his commands overriding any sense of self-preservation. I turned around slowly, my hands trembling as I brought them behind my back.