Caffeine || CHOI SOOBIN FF

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝟡

-Start of Chapter 59-

I was terrified. It felt like I was a child again, trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. That same helplessness washed over me—the kind that roots you to the spot, makes you endure, makes you small. My body remembered it well, the way it once absorbed the blows in silence, my heart whispering desperate promises to itself:     

"If I just hold on a little longer, it'll stop. The pain will end. The sadness will go away."

But it never did.

This time, though... this time, I screamed.

The moment the blade pierced my palm, when the fire-hot agony exploded in my hand, I screamed so loudly that my throat feels raw now, hours later. I screamed until I couldn't breathe. And it terrifies me because I never did that before. Not when I was a child. Not when my father's anger rained down on me, blow after blow. I swallowed every cry, buried every feeling deep within myself, smothered the screams before they could escape. It was unnatural—almost inhuman—but it was survival. And back then, silence felt like safety.

But this time, I broke.

I screamed because I was terrified of dying. I screamed because, for the first time, I wasn't alone. And maybe, just maybe, some part of me thought that if I screamed loudly enough, someone would hear me.

And someone did.

When she held the knife to my throat, when her voice turned cold and her grip tightened, I felt the same dread I'd felt as a child. That awful realization that no one was coming. I thought it was over. I thought the universe would let it happen again—let me suffer in silence, let me disappear.

But then... he came.

~~~~~

The first thing I notice is the sterile scent of antiseptic, sharp and overwhelming. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy, but I force them open. Blinding white light floods my vision, and I squint, the stark brightness making my head pound.

I'm alive.

The realization settles in slowly, my senses gradually coming back to me. I glance around the room—soft cream walls, a large window letting in the muted glow of the morning sun, and a bouquet of lilies on the side table. This isn't an ordinary hospital room. It's luxurious, almost like a hotel suite. 

A VIP room.

A soft snore catches my attention, and I turn my head ever so slightly. Soobin is slumped over the edge of my bed, his head resting on the mattress next to my arm. His hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions, and dark shadows rim his eyes. He looks utterly exhausted, but peaceful in his sleep.

I swallow, my throat dry and scratchy, and then try to lift my arm—only to wince as pain shoots through me.

It's then I notice the bandages.

My left hand is wrapped tightly, the spot where the knife pierced through my palm now hidden beneath layers of gauze. A dull throb radiates from the wound, an uncomforting feeling.