8 is fate // Stray Kids

43

Jisung

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

Jisung had lost track of time.

If he were to guess, he would estimate that roughly six months had passed since he was abducted, give or take a couple of weeks. He couldn't be certain though, as it was hard to keep track when he hadn't seen the sun even once in his time there.

The passing of days and nights were simulated by the overlights, and he was fairly certain that they tempered with the length of days. Sometimes the light didn't leave for days. Sometimes the night lasted for weeks, shrouding him in darkness so all-consuming and everlasting, he feared that he had gone blind.

Still, he tried to keep track. As futile as it might seem, it was one of the few things that kept him sane. If he lost all sense of time, he didn't doubt madness would consume him truly.

Not like it wasn't already trying anyway.

With every passing day, his mental health derailed further and further, dancing upon a tightrope strung above the bottomless Abyss waiting to swallow him whole.

Physically, though, he had never been in better shape. With every passing night, he grew stronger, faster, deadlier.

It was a dangerous combination, he feared what he was becoming. Feared, what they were turning him into.

His mind was spiraling relentlessly, endless questions haunting his every breath.

He didn't understand what was happening to him, even less why.

While he had still no explanation for the sudden appearance of his powers, he had mostly gotten used to them by now. Had learned to utilize them how he pleased, but his new strength still caught him by surprise at times.

For the first time in his life, he could fight exactly the way he had always envisioned it. His own body was no longer holding him back but pushing him forwards.

But as exhilarating as this feeling was, it felt just as scary.

There was this never-ending hum of energy flowing through him, brimming in every single cell of his body. It was so strong, Jisung feared it could overflow. It set him in a frenzy whenever he fought, overpowering opponents with ease. It made him feel invincible whenever his wounds stitched themselves right back up in nothing but mere seconds, only leaving faded scars in their wake.

But they would make sure that this feeling of strength and power would never last for long, dragging him back down into the dark pit that was his reality.

It didn't matter if his wounds healed quickly, he felt the pain of them being inflicted all the same.

It might take more to hurt him these days, but they were more than creative with their methods.

He was cut open more times than he could count.

Strung from the ceiling and beaten like a pinata with a wide range of objects.

Went for weeks starving and thirsting until he was nothing but a shadow of himself.

Kept awake for what felt like eons without being allowed to rest and catch his breath for even a second, until no train of thought remained coherent.

He was locked inside an ice chamber to test how long it would take for all of his bodily functions to come close to a standstill.

Held in an enormous oven to see how many layers of skin he could survive being seared away before his lungs gave out.