In The Dark

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“Who is she?”

    After more than a week of being locked in my room Jungkook had finally seemed to calm down a bit.  My curiosity on the other hand, hadn't.
    I was determined to find out why he had so many pictures of that woman. So I had decided that it would be best to be straight forward and ask him directly instead of snooping around again, which I had learned now, was ill-advised.
   
At first he completely ignored my question, and continued reading a fantasy novel, one he had been casually thumbing through for the past week or so, as he slouched beside me on my bed.
    I had noticed one thing that was much different about being locked in this room, as opposed to the basement it felt much more casual when Jungkook spent time with me, if you could call it that before. There wasn't nearly as much tension, even though I somehow still felt like a prisoner. 

    “Kookie. Who is she?” I asked again, determined to get an answer more than ever.
    “Who is who?” he replied nonchalantly, as he continued flipping through the book without looking up.
    I knew he was just playing dumb, so I continued to press
    “That woman.”
    “What woman?”
    “The one in all those photographs.”
    “She's nobody.”
    “If that were true you wouldn't have so many pictures of her.”

    By this point Jungkook was getting agitated, not quite angry though, more like sadness and frustration combined. He had closed his book and gotten up from the bed at this point. He was pacing back and forth, like a predator sizing up its prey, but he had been more anxious than intimidating.

    “She's just another person that left me.” he finally said after a few moments of tense silence, broken only by the sound of his feet on the hardwood. After the words left his lips he had immediately stopped pacing and slumped on the floor, looking almost defeated.

    “I'm.. Sorry.” I mumbled. Despite our arrangements being unfavourable, I still didn't like to see him like that.

    Without saying a word in response, he stood and made his way to the door. As he left the room he slammed it forcefully, but I didn't hear that familiar click of the lock.

Does this mean
he's letting me out? 

                        ………

    A couple of hours later, he returned. I hadn't moved from my spot on my bed, and he seemed genuinely confused by my remaining immobile for the hours he had been gone.
    “Why are you still in here? I left the door unlocked.”
    “I didn't know if I was allowed to go anywhere. I didn't want you to get mad again.”
    Surprisingly, words that I hadn't heard from him in many weeks spilled over his lips which formed into a sly smirk.
    “Where's the fun in that?”

    Now I see what
your game is.

         I chuckled at his response. He was hoping I would disobey him again. He liked to torment me. Of course, I should have known that already, since it had been his favourite game for weeks of my captivity. I was little more than a toy to him at this point, and part of me,  though I wasn't quite sure why, was extremely bothered by the realization. I knew I was a captive, why should it have surprised me?