saved. [rewriting]

002

'what do you want to do to me, daddy?' jeonghan whispered in the boy's ear, his hand on his thin thigh. 'you can cut me, burn me, fuck, kill me if you want.'

the man pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. it was a black wallet, but it wasn't normal. no, it had a golden badge and a big card that said 'department of investigation', 'fbi', and had a picture of him in a suit.

jeon wonwoo.

all he could do was laugh and shake his head. 'oh, my god,' he whispered and tried to open the door. 'i'm not saying anything, let me out. you can't do this.'

'actually i can, mr. yoon. i have a federal consent to take you to the federal-bureau of investigation headquarters. now, please put your seatbelt on and calm down,' wonwoo said and waited for him to get on his seatbelt.

jeonghan was freaking out. what is he was put in jail? what would happen to his son? goddamnit, he thought while putting on his seatbelt and gripping his thin thighs tightly, prostitution can make me going to jail up to ten years. ten years without his little minghao was hell.

-

jeonghan was resting against the tan seat when they got to a large, window covered building. he sighed quietly and unbuckle his seatbelt. 'i have a son. he's starving in our home. before you take me to jail; i bed of you, please let me seem him. i'll do anything- rat anyone out. please.'

'mr. yoon, please get out of the car,' wonwoo said and stepped out on his own, walking to jeonghan's side. opening the door, he waited for him to get out.

the seoul native stepped out of the bentley and followed the broad shoulder's male into the building where he was immediately patted down and shoved into an interrogation room. 'i get a phone call!' he shouted as he was handcuffed to the table by a tan man in an identical suit to wonwoo's.

-

jeonghan sat in the chair for what seemed to be forever. his forehead was pressed against the metal table; he actually got a bit of sleep. he hadn't got any decent sleep in years (even if the nap he took wasn't decent).

jeonghan shot up when he heard the door open. the man who walked in was around his height, but was probably a few years ahead of him in his age. 'i get a phone call! everyone gets a goddamn phone call, why won't you give me mine!' he shouted, banging his cuffed hands against the table even if it hurt.

'yoon jeonghan- 21 years old, born in seoul, south korea on october 4th, 1995, both parents and younger sister deceased, put into foster care, but ran away. we have an interesting case here.' the older man sat down on the other side of the table and leaned forward, pushing a manila folder to jeonghan. 'you don't get phone calls when you're in the federal-bureau.'

'now.' he leaned back. 'let me tell you about myself. i'm captain choi seungcheol of the fbi. you will do as i say, or you will never see daylight ever again.'