ANABELLE'S POV
"Stop frowning, you'll be fine. Dr. Lee is going to do her best to get you out of this mess." My mother scowled me as I ate my breakfast, which was a bowl of oatmeal. It was early in the morning and one of the only sounds were of birds chirping, meaning the sun had risen. However, the kitchen was dim, making mine and my mother's faces look inanimate. I used my spoon to mix the lumpy consistency and sighed. Today was the first day of therapy and I had no intention on going. I stared at my oatmeal and noticed how lifeless it was. It was plain and dull; only consisting of one color, brown. I then looked at my own skin and noticed that it was just as colorless. Is this what I had become? I decided not to finish my breakfast, for it was tasteless and was already cold. This time, my mother disappointedly sighed and motioned for me to get ready as she cleaned the dishes. I felt bad for my parents, always doing whatever they could to get me healthy again, both mentally and physically. This brought a smile to my face, thinking of how much hope they still have after the tragic past. I thanked her and made my way to my room to pick out an outfit. I decided to go with black jeans and a hoodie, foreshadowing my mood for the day. I was hoping my mother would suddenly announce that the the therapist had called in sick, but instead she was already waiting for me to leave.
"Remember, she's just trying to help you. Don't lash out on her, okay honey?" I nodded, but didn't look into her eyes. I wasn't sure if I would do so or not, it really depends on how the session goes. I slipped on my boots and kissed my mother on the forehead, my lips making contact with her utterly cold skin. I shrugged it off and began walking to LemonWood Mental Institution, which was about ten minutes away.
The LemonWood Mental Institution was closed for a year and reopened last summer for unknown reasons. Although this seemed sketchy to me, I guess no one else had thought the same, for the place holds more than seventy patients. It serves as a therapy site and a hospital for the mental ,or scarred, as many would call them.
As I was nearing the gray building, I saw them. The ill patients walking along the path enclosed with metal fences, talking out loud to no one. I assumed that they were let out for fresh air everyday, but were still held captive by the fences. The sight sent chills down my spine, rattling my bones. I now felt small in my oversized hoodie and helpless, even. I shuffle towards the entrance door, which had several scratch marks, as if something or something had tried to get in. Before I had the chance to press on the buzzer, the metal door opened, revealing a surprisingly neat wait room. It was strangely quiet, as if no one was in the building besides me. I walked into the lounge, seeing that there was a trail of a liquid of some sort leading to one of the patient's room. I decided to follow it, hoping it would lead me to the therapist so I could get this over with. Instead, it lead me straight to a metal door with yellow caution tape plastered over it. Like the entrance, this one also had strange claw-like marks on it. I backed away from it, slightly frightened by unusual sights. As I stepped back, the heels of my feet landed on something, startling me even more. My boots crunched on something, which turned out to be a crumpled sheet of paper. My face turned a shade of green, and I felt sick to my stomach. I was positive it had not been there before, meaning someone must've thrown it at me earlier but missed. I hesitated to pick it up, but did so anyways. The paper was written on with messy handwriting, as if the person was in a rush. It read, "Two doors to the left and turn right. Help me, please." My heart started pumping rapidly, my knees wobbling. My first instinct was to run before the danger was headed my way, but I knew whoever sent me the note was desperate. I had been in the situation before, and I haven't forgotten about it ever since. It now takes the place of my nightmares. I followed the instructions on the paper and saw nothing but a wall at first. After ten seconds of just staring at it, I saw the outline of a door. I pressed my body against it and used all of my strength to push down the door. It wouldn't nudge, and I knew that whoever was trying to cause harm was obviously experienced and knew what they were doing. Slowly, after numerous attempts, the door began to loosen. With one final push, I managed to create an opening. I peered into the small, stuffy room and saw something that made my heart skip a beat. I was too late.
Within two feet of me, was a dead body laying before a man holding a bloody dagger, Kim Taehyung. He had a pool of blood surrounding him and the girl. Taehyung looked up at me with a pained expression, but I couldn't bare to see his eyes. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I saw it coming, I really did. I refused to listen to myself and made it my personal goal to help him. I thought he would stop after Alice, seeing how much pain he had brought. But he didn't, he continued to take the lives of the innocent, as if they were nothing but a waste of skin. I stepped forward, closing the gap between Taehyung and I. I saw the same boy I had seen before; the one who shared his darkest secret with me.
"You're not broken, but a bit fractured. I can see your glowing light through the cracks."
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the thirteenth | kim taehyung
Fanfictionnow i know why your nickname is the thief, taehyung. you stole her heart, and then her life. started: march 2, 2016