Left Out Friend

34

The room was not dark like it was always used to.

The bedroom was not messy like it was always used to.

The scent was not disgusting like it was always used to.

And the person sleeping peacefully in the bed had actually slept properly this time.

It was not the same as before.

The person sleeping right now should have been waking up in the same position they had left him—cold, unmoving, abandoned after being used. But the scent in the room had changed. It was no longer tainted with the filth of their presence. It had returned to its natural state. Baby cologne. His scent.

The bed was neatly made, and the person resting in it lay comfortably, unlike before. Unlike always. The sheets had been changed. Everything had been cleaned.

The warm light bathed the room in something almost peaceful. It looked normal.

Unlike before.

Because before, the room had always been dark.

Before, the room had always been left in ruins.

Before, the person inside had always been left alone, broken, and dirty.

The man in the bed was dressed in a new shirt.

No... He wasn’t naked like he was always used to.

He had been cleaned.

His hair wasn’t messy like it had always been.

But the bruises hadn’t left. They wouldn’t. They would stay, stinging, burning, reminding.

The other part of his face was painted with deep violets. His neck and stomach carried the same painful marks. His lips were swollen, the left side torn open by teeth. His neck bore bruises, trailing down his chest. His stomach was covered in deep, agonizing reds and purples. His cheekbone... his once soft, untouched cheek was stained with a sickening shade of dark red, making him look terribly ill.

Anyone who saw him would feel pity.

Would feel rage.

Would want to hunt down the ones responsible for this cruelty.

Would demand justice.

Would want to scream the moment they learned the truth behind it all.

Because who would do this to someone with such an innocent, pure heart?

They hadn’t killed him.

But maybe this was worse.

He had suffered enough. And he would continue to suffer.

They were not human.

They were not monsters.

They were worse than that.

Feeling the stinging pain spread across his body, he slowly opened his eyes.

Memories flashed behind his eyes, replaying in vivid, gut-wrenching detail.

And then... he smiled.

A painful smile.

A bitter smile.

A grateful smile.

Because he couldn’t remember all of it. His mind refused to relive the details. It shielded him.

But the proof was there.

His body remembered what his mind chose to forget.

Sunoo looked around. The room was neat and clean. His bed, too. He couldn’t even process the thoughts, the questions forming in his head.