In Another's Skin

The Embered Endgame.

Warning: This chapter contains highly explicit and graphic content that may be distressing to some readers. It includes severe violence, detailed scenes of torture, and significant bloodshed. The narrative involves intense and brutal themes such as murder, sacrifice, and extreme brutality. The depiction of these events is graphic and may be unsettling, including descriptions of gore and pain.

The mature subject matter explored in this chapter is intended for adult audiences and may be distressing or triggering. Please consider your emotional comfort and well-being before proceeding. If you are sensitive to these themes or find such content distressing, it is strongly recommended to skip this chapter or approach it with caution. Your mental health and emotional safety are important, and it is crucial to prioritize your well-being.

Sincerely,
Parkaaimin.

Chapter 45: (Aaira's pov)

The day stretched endlessly before me as I sat in the dimly lit room, the hours crawling by with horrifying slowness. The sounds of the world outside seemed muted, as if I were trapped in a bubble of anxiety and dread.

Each minute felt like an hour, each second a lifetime. Jungkook had left hours ago to check on the portal, and all I could do was wait. I tried to focus on anything that might distract me, but nothing could soothe the gnawing fear in my chest.

I rose from the bed, pacing around the room like a caged animal. My mind raced through a chaotic whirl of thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. What if something happened to him? What if the old couple managed to trap him as well?

I moved to the small desk by the window and began sorting through the scattered papers and books. I tried to read, but the words on the pages blurred together, their meanings lost in my fog of worry.

I flipped through a novel but found myself unable to concentrate. I put the book down and stared out the window at the dreary, rain-soaked world outside. The storm that had started earlier in the morning seemed to match my internal storm.

My next distraction was a small sketchpad I had found tucked away in a drawer. I picked up a pencil and began to draw, hoping that the act of creation would calm my racing mind. I sketched aimlessly, the lines and shapes on the paper reflecting my inner chaos.

The drawings were a mess of jagged lines and fragmented forms, I glanced at the sky, the sky darkening too slowly for my liking. Time seemed to stretch and warp, each minute dragging out as I waited for any sign of Jungkook.

I tried to busy myself with cleaning and organizing the room, but even that felt pointless. Every sound, every creak of the floorboards or gust of wind, sent a jolt of panic through me as I wondered if it was Jungkook returning-or something worse.

As the day wore on, I became more restless. I attempted to eat, but the food was tasteless, and I barely managed a few bites before setting it aside. The emptiness in my stomach mirrored the emptiness in my heart, both aching with the same gnawing dread.

I found myself constantly checking the sky, the hours slipping by with maddening slowness. I tried to practice deep breathing and meditation to calm my nerves, but my mind was too frantic. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured the worst possible scenarios-Jungkook captured, hurt, or worse. The images were relentless and vivid, fueling my anxiety.

To pass the time, I decided to tidy up the room. I rearranged the small furniture, cleaned the surfaces, and organized the small shelves. I even attempted to fold the blankets and make the bed, but my efforts felt futile.