Downfall || Seongjoong

- fifty-six -

Hongjoong || Seonghwa

I lay on the floor, every movement sending a jolt of pain through my battered body. My arms were handcuffed behind my back, the cold metal biting into my skin, while my feet were bound together, leaving me completely immobilized. 

Any attempt to shift my position only intensified the agony, a cruel reminder of my helplessness.

Eventually, my strength gave out, and I slumped against the wall, the rough surface pressing uncomfortably against my bruised back. I was too exhausted to cry anymore. 

My tears had dried up, leaving me with a hollow ache that seemed to permeate every part of me. My mind, however, was a storm of thoughts and regrets, each one cutting deeper than the last.

I thought of Hongjoong, the worry that must be gnawing at him with every unanswered message. My phone had been taken away, severing the one link to the outside world that could have brought me comfort. 

I could picture him staring at his screen, his concern growing with each passing hour of silence. The thought of him waiting for a response that would never come twisted my heart with guilt and sorrow.

"Please be safe, Hongjoong," I had whispered earlier, but now those words felt like a desperate plea for a miracle. 

I couldn't bear the thought of him being dragged into this nightmare, of him feeling the same fear and helplessness that consumed me now.

My thoughts wandered to Wooyoung, my closest friend. How could I ever explain this to him? How could I apologize for the pain my father's actions might bring to him, to all of us? 

The weight of unspoken apologies and broken promises pressed down on me, suffocating in their intensity.

I could almost hear Wooyoung's voice, playful and teasing as always, masking his concern with a joke. But in my mind, his laughter was strained, and his eyes held a worry that I couldn't soothe. 

"I'm sorry, Wooyoung," I whispered to the empty room, my voice cracking under the weight of my sorrow. "I'm so, so sorry."

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the pain and the overwhelming sense of loss. The minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity of loneliness and despair. 

My body ached, but it was the ache in my heart that hurt the most—the longing for the warmth and comfort of those I loved, the guilt of causing them pain, the fear of what might come next.

I felt trapped not just by the handcuffs and the bindings, but by the crushing weight of my own thoughts. Every beat of my heart seemed to echo with the questions that haunted me: How were they doing? Were they safe? How could I make amends for the anguish my father's actions had wrought?

But most of all, I thought of Hongjoong. His smile, his touch, the way he made everything seem bearable even in the darkest of times. 

And now, in this endless night, I clung to the hope that somehow, he would feel my love reaching out to him, even if my voice couldn't.

Hours passed, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the door. My heart began to race, and I braced myself for whatever was to come.

The door creaked open, and my father stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He wasn't completely out of his mind drunk, but there was a dangerous edge to his movements, a cold precision that sent a shiver down my spine. 

Behind him, the servant entered, carrying what looked like an assortment of revealing clothes and accessories, things they must have fetched from a nearby shop. My stomach churned at the sight.