Echoes of a Lost Love

Chapter 3: The Descent into Darkness

The cold iron bars of the prison cell clanged shut behind Y/N, sealing her fate. It had been two months since her arrest, two months since Jungkook turned her in, and two months since her world had spiraled into a living hell. The first few weeks were a blur of interrogations and accusations, but nothing had prepared her for what awaited her in the dark, desolate corners of the prison.

The other inmates had quickly learned who she was—the mafia queen who had been betrayed by her famous lover. Some feared her, but most despised her, seeing her as nothing more than a dangerous criminal who had gotten what she deserved. They attacked her at every chance, using the cover of darkness to strike. At night, they would come in groups, dragging her from her bunk and beating her until she was left bruised and bleeding on the cold cement floor.

Her body ached from the abuse, but the worst pain came from the whispers. The taunts about how Jungkook had abandoned her, how the man she loved had thrown her away like trash. Every word cut deeper than the physical blows.

"You think you're still a queen, huh?" one of the inmates sneered one night, kicking Y/N in the ribs. "You're nothing here. Your pretty boy forgot about you."

Y/N bit her lip, trying not to scream, but the agony was overwhelming. She curled into herself, feeling the sharp sting of another kick to her back. The lights flickered in the hallway, casting eerie shadows over the broken walls, but no one came to help. The guards had long stopped caring. To them, she was just another prisoner. No one to save her now.

The food they gave her was barely edible. Moldy bread, watery soup that smelled like it had gone bad, and sometimes nothing at all. Her once-strong body had become frail, weakened by malnutrition and constant beatings. She had never imagined her life would come to this—reduced to a shadow of her former self, struggling to survive each day.

One afternoon, Y/N was dragged into the interrogation room for yet another round of questioning. Her wrists were bound with metal shackles, and her ankles were bruised from the rough hands that had pulled her there. The room was sterile, cold, and suffocatingly silent. A single dim lightbulb hung overhead, casting a harsh glow on her pale face.

The interrogators had been relentless for weeks, demanding answers she didn't have. They would alternate between shouting accusations and using brutal methods to break her. Torture had become routine—electric shocks, waterboarding, sleep deprivation—but no matter how much pain they inflicted, her answer was always the same.

"I don't know."

Today was different, though. Today, Jungkook was there.

He sat across the table, his face a mask of cold indifference. Y/N's heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked exhausted, but there was no warmth in his eyes—only anger, betrayal, and something she couldn't quite place. The man she had once loved was now her judge, watching as the officers prepared for another round of questioning.

"Y/N," one of the officers growled, his voice echoing off the steel walls. "We know your mafia clan was involved in the murder of Jungkook's mother. We need names. We need locations. Who ordered the hit?"

Y/N's throat was dry, and her lips cracked from dehydration. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't know."

Without hesitation, the officer grabbed a metal rod from the table and slammed it down on her hand. The pain was immediate, searing up her arm as she cried out in agony. Her fingers throbbed, swelling from the impact.

"I don't know!" she repeated, tears streaming down her face.

Jungkook's eyes flickered, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable. His presence was torture in itself. She wanted to beg him for forgiveness, to explain everything, but there was no use. He had already made his choice. He had given up on her.

The officer grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back painfully as he brought his face close to hers. "We're not playing games here, Y/N. Tell us who ordered the hit, or things will get much worse for you."

"I don't know!" Y/N gasped, her voice cracking. "I swear, I don't know!"

The officer's grip tightened before slamming her head against the table. Stars exploded behind her eyes as the world blurred. Her body slumped, but the shackles held her upright. She could taste blood in her mouth, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. All she could see was Jungkook, sitting there, watching her suffer, and saying nothing.

The torture continued. They strapped her to a chair, tightening the restraints until her arms were numb. Then came the electric shocks. Her body convulsed with each jolt of electricity that coursed through her veins, her screams filling the room. The pain was unbearable, but she refused to give them the answers they sought. She didn't know anything, and even if she did, what good would it do? They had already decided her fate.

Jungkook's gaze never wavered. He watched her, his eyes cold and distant, but deep down, Y/N could sense the turmoil in him. He was hurting too, but his anger outweighed any compassion he might have had left.

"Enough," Jungkook finally spoke, his voice low but firm. The officer paused, looking at him for direction.

"Let her rest," Jungkook said quietly, standing up. "We'll continue later."

Y/N's head lolled to the side as the officers unstrapped her, her body limp from exhaustion and pain. She tried to focus on Jungkook's face, but her vision was blurred, and the room spun around her.

As he turned to leave, Y/N managed to whisper his name, barely audible over the sound of the chains rattling.

"Jungkook..."

He stopped, his back to her, but he didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, her voice broken. "I'm so sorry..."

Jungkook stood there for a moment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. But then, without a word, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N to face the darkness alone once more.

Days passed, or maybe weeks—Y/N couldn't tell anymore. The beatings, the hunger, the endless questions—they all blurred together. Every time they dragged her to the interrogation room, her answer was the same.

"I don't know."

It was the only truth she had left.

The torture continued, but Y/N had nothing more to give. The bruises on her skin, the bones that ached with every movement, and the hollow emptiness inside her were all that remained. She had lost everything—her love, her freedom, and now, her will to survive.

But no matter how much they broke her body, they could never take the truth from her. She had no answers for them. Only silence.

And in that silence, she found a twisted sense of peace.