𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 ||𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

3- the choice.

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I hope y'all have read the warnings, cause when I said this would be fucked up, I meant it.

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Three days.

It had been three days since Jeongguk's life had turned into a nightmare, three days since he'd last seen his parents, three days since his freedom had been ripped away. Each hour seemed to stretch endlessly, every second reminding him of how little control he had left.

The room was freezing. He hadn't felt warmth since they'd locked him up in this dark, windowless cell. The chill crept into his bones, numbing him from the inside out. He'd spent the last three days lying on the hard floor, curling in on himself to preserve what little body heat he could. He was beyond exhausted, too wired with fear to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. His stomach had stopped growling days ago; hunger had given way to a hollow ache. Thankfully, they'd left a jug of water in the corner—enough to keep him alive, though he wondered if that was the point. Keeping him alive for something worse.

He was lost in a fog of thoughts when he heard it—the creak of the door. After three days of silence, the sound cut through his haze, startling him. The door opened, but Jeongguk didn't even have the strength to look up. Whoever it was, they'd either come to set him free... or end this.

A voice rang out, "Get up."

He tried to move but couldn't. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, unresponsive to the command. The voice grew impatient, and a hand grasped his arm, pulling him upright. Jeongguk staggered to his feet, vision blurring, his mind numb and disoriented. The figure beside him gave him a rough push, urging him to walk, but as he took a few unsteady steps, his head began to spin. His strength drained in an instant, and the world tilted around him.

The last thing he remembered was the cold seeping through his skin and the darkness closing in. Then, nothing.

•  •  •  •  •  •

Jeongguk stirred, a faint groan escaping his lips as he slowly regained consciousness. His body ached, but there was something different, something... warmer. The cold, biting chill that had plagued him for days was gone. He was no longer on the hard, unforgiving floor. Instead, the surface beneath him was soft and inviting. The warmth of the room wrapped around him like a blanket, and for a fleeting moment, he wished—no, prayed—that everything that had happened, the fear, the pain, the confusion, was just some terrible nightmare. That when he opened his eyes, he would find himself back in his own bed, in his room, in the house he once called home.

With a heavy sigh, he forced his eyes open.

It wasn't his room. The reality hit him immediately. The room was modest, though a far cry from the hellhole he had been locked in for the past three days. It wasn't as cold, and the air smelled cleaner, less suffocating. His pulse quickened, and his mind raced with a mixture of dread and confusion. This wasn't a dream. It was real. And he was still trapped.