The Human That Must Die TXT Taehyun x reader ff

Chapter 4

I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my body trembling, soaked in sweat. My hands instinctively flew to my face, fingers pressing into my skin as if to ground myself, to confirm I was still here, that it was just a nightmare. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I scanned every corner of my room, eyes darting from one familiar object to another—the worn-out desk, the faded posters on the walls—until I was certain. This was my room. I was safe.

I let out a long, shaky breath, relief washing over me. Silently, I slipped out of bed, tiptoeing toward the bathroom. The old wooden floors creaked under my weight, but I moved as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake my family. Our house was small, the walls paper-thin. Even from the other side of the lounge, I could hear my father's heavy snores rumbling through the silence.

In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, feeling its coolness soothe my heated skin. I exhaled again, slower this time, my pulse finally beginning to steady. When I looked up, the reflection staring back at me in the mirror was all too familiar. My gaze caught on the scratch across my neck—a reminder of that awful night.

That night... I had gone out with friends, had a few drinks, and was ready to head home. But while waiting for a cab outside, I was suddenly grabbed, dragged away by a group of guys. I fought, but being drunk, I was no match for them. I ended up in some dirty warehouse, their disgusting whispers surrounding me. One of them, furious I had so little money on me, snapped. As if it was my fault. The pain from his kicks and punches still echoed in my body.

I shifted my gaze to the bruises on my shoulder, the purple and yellow patches a cruel reminder. I knew it could've been worse—much worse—if Taehyun hadn't shown up. He had saved me, pulled me out of that nightmare. I might've died that night if it weren't for him, and despite him being a complete stranger, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I sighed, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. There wasn't time for tears. I had responsibilities. I took one last glance in the mirror before heading back to my room. I had to get up early for the fashion academy, then head to the studio—the old garage I'd managed to set up with machines and equipment. My parents had scraped together their savings to support me, betting everything on the chance I'd win a competition and gain the opportunities that would pull us out of this cycle of struggling. Our house, passed down through generations, was barely holding together. My father worked as a truck driver, and while his income covered groceries, the costs of education, utilities, and daily expenses left us constantly on edge.

I knew I couldn't afford distractions—not nightmares, not exhaustion. But when I crawled back into bed, sleep refused to come. My thoughts were consumed by flashes of Taehyun. It was strange—at times, it felt like he was here, his presence hovering in the room, his hand grazing mine, leaving a strange, faint warmth behind. The sensation burned lightly, like an invisible thread connecting us.

Frustration welled up inside me, and I sat up abruptly, only to be startled by the light of dawn streaming through the window. Morning had crept up on me without a second of rest. I groaned, too tired to even think about it as my mom's voice called out from the kitchen.

"Y/N! Get up, or you'll be late!" she yelled, her voice carrying through the thin walls. The smell of breakfast drifted in, making my stomach growl.

Dragging myself out of bed, I quickly got dressed. Mom, of course, scolded me for needing her to wake me up, despite my age. I didn't mention the sleepless night—she would've lectured me more if she knew. Instead, I ate breakfast with my brother, who was as annoying as ever, before dragging him out the door. Together, we raced to the bus stop, the exhaustion from the night before still heavy on my shoulders, but the day already pulling me forward.