Bad Blood || K. Jongin

23| Taken

∘∘☥∘∘☥∘∘☥∘∘

(Lyra)

Even though every fiber in my being screams with resistance, I try my best to continue on as normal as possible. Whatever normal means to me anymore.

I decide to cook another meal, disregarding the fact I'm the only person in the house.

I haven't been alone since.. my first day in Korea.. and my heart sinks at the thought.  

It's so quiet, that when I set the pot on the burner, I hear everything. Even the shuffle of someone's feet as they walk down the street. The silence drags on until it becomes so unbearable that I rush towards the tv and turn it on for some background noise.

I turn back to the stove as the water starts to boil, hesitating to take out the vegetables until a loud knock snaps me back to reality.

I stare at the door, every hair on the back of my neck standing up as I contemplate whether or not I should answer. Alarmed, I grab the sharpest knife from the counter and hold it behind my back.

I try to ignore the anxiety that is stirring up inside me as I make my way over to the door.

I peak through the peephole, my grip around the temporary weapon loosening as I realize it's just a salesman, judging by the books clutched in his grip, and the pen wedged between his ear.

It looks... staged.

He sways back and fourth, bringing his hand to bang against the door once again.

Paranoid, I duck away from the open window, bringing the knife with me just in case.

I wait for minutes, but the man standing on the doorstep doesn't move.

I glance at the cellphone across the room, wondering if I should risk being seen to snatch it away. But the stranger reacts before I do, relocating towards the window where he stares into the house, as if he was searching for something.

A regular salesman wouldn't do this.

He bangs against the glass. "Miss? You there?"

...Miss? How does he know I'm the only one here? Was he watching us?

My eyes widen as he moves away, but he doesn't leave the premises. He just stands in the street, waiting.

I glance at the boiling water in the kitchen, and I crawl under the windowsill and turn the stove off. I grab the phone and hold it close to my chest, before crawling behind the couch.

I set the knife down and breathe deeply. Even though I've been through much worse, the fear building up inside me doesn't show any signs of fading away. I am petrified.

I will kill if I have to. I will not be taken hostage again. Because I know exactly what will happen to me.

Desperate and fearful, I dial Jongin's number.

It picks up.

"Jongin?" I whimper, glancing back towards the window, and watching the man pace back and fourth in the yard. "Please come back there's someone here-"

"The person you have dialed has not set up their voicemail.."

"Fuck!" I bite my lip, calling again for good measure, but receive the same automated voice message.

What do I do now? ... Wait?

There's only one other person I can call.

Kyungsoo.