The Mafia's Dove (Hyunjin centric)

Hysteria

(⚠️Warning: Explicit description of torture, gore, injury and death (not real), suicide attempt⚠️This is the darkest chapter I have written, so if any of the above are potentially triggering, please do not read. If needed, I can write a chapter summary.)

My head throbbed and swirled, and I closed my eyes tighter in an attempt to fight off the dizziness I was suddenly afflicted with. The taste of copper was a long forgotten normality, and the memories more than the blood in my mouth elicited a wave of nausea.

My head lolled as I just barely regained enough strength to hold it up, and I let out an unintentional groan that only raised my awareness towards how parched and sore my throat felt. The blood in my mouth wasn't exactly helping, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out the source.

It took a while for my eyes to open, the urge to rub away the crust from them causing me to attempt to raise my arms. The sound of chains jingling processed before the weight in my arms did, and I opened my eyes the rest of the way in a panic.

I was restrained, my arms chained behind me while my legs were tied to the legs of the metal chair I sat atop of. This realization sent a shot of adrenaline up my spine, my nausea increasing tenfold at my inability to move.

It was a challenge to raise my head but I still looked around frantically, growing more and more unnerved by the darkness that filled the unidentifiable room. The shadows danced and ebbed like waves against a shore, and it seemed like the only light was the sterile white light that shined on me.

I shouldn't know why I was here, but for some reason I did. For some reason I knew exactly where I was despite not being able to see my surroundings, and if I was in a clearer state of mind I would have questioned why.

But my focus remained on the darkness that surrounded me, my eyes straining to see anything through the inky black. I had no idea why, because the last thing I wanted was to see something in the darkness.

But I knew I wasn't alone, and that feeling was only supported by a hand trailing across my chest.

I jolted, a sound of startlement crawling up my throat only to die on my lips. I prickled at the touch, my skin crawling at the discomfort the unwelcomed hand caused. That discomfort turned to pain as the lingering touch left the feeling of acid in its wake, but I cared more for finding whoever was attached to the hand than looking to see what was causing the pain in my chest.

I craned my neck to look behind me, but as soon as I did the hand disappeared. The presence I felt was nowhere to be seen, but they could have easily retreated back into the shadows. There was nothing I could do but wait, and the feeling of once again being at someone's mercy was distressing.

No one with good intentions would have chained me to a chair, and if even a featherlike touch of their hand could cause pain, to what extent could they torment me?

There wasn't much I could do from where I was retrained, the shackles too tight to pull my hand through even if I dislocated my thumb. The metal that dug into my skin almost seemed to melt into my wrists, so if I wanted to escape I would have to break the chains. That wasn't something I was currently strong enough to do.

With nothing else to do I let my attention return to my chest, and my stomach dropped slightly from the sight.

My shirt was torn open, the same exact shirt and the same exact tear from the night SKZ had found me. The fabric was stained crimson from the blood leaking out of the wounds on my chest, violent and deep cuts that stretched across the expanse of my pecs and sternum. They were the same exact cuts Chan had inflicted on me, and they burned the same as when I first received them. But why were they fresh? I thought they had healed?