Blood Ink ✔️

65: Heart/Break

For some reason, you thought that killing someone would be more than this.

You thought that you would be able to feel it - something tangible, a hit to your gut as the life force of a human being floats away into oblivion because of you.

You thought you would be sick with yourself.

However, the whole event is shockingly anticlimactic.

The gun in your hand shakes and recoils, kicking back against your hand as the bullet exits.

As the tiny piece of metal rockets from the gun's muzzle, screeching out the sound of metal on metal in a deadly, piercing symphony.

The bullet slams into Seoungmin's temple with a dull, almost inaudible thud.

Seoungmin is staring at you.

You stare back.

And even though you watch him, meeting his eyes until his balance wavers and he tilts back, there's no certain point where you can tell that the life has left Seoungmin's eyes.

He just stares and stares and stares.

Then he falls.

The ground doesn't rupture and shake as he thumps to the floor - the world doesn't stop spinning as a small bit of blood wells up from the pitiful small entry wound on his forehead.

He's just...dead.

Min Seoungmin is dead, and you killed him.

But you're fine.

Oxygen is still flowing in and out of your lungs, and blood is still rushing through your veins.

This must be how Jimin felt when he was skipping around, covered in blood - not near as shaken as expected, and full of a giddy type of satisfaction.

You glance around the shocked audience of your father and his men, meeting their gazes one by one with a slight smile.

Just so they know.

You're fine.

And the second that the same realization permeates the room, Namjoon starts moving.

He drops to the floor in a crouch, shielded by the couch's tall back, and reaches out a hand on either side to yank Yoongi and Jin down with him.

As he's folding under the pressure of Namjoon's powerful tug, Jin catches your wrist.

Your knees crease and you stumble forward, collapsing onto the ground beside Jin. Your head smacks against the taught material of the couch backing.

Ouch.

Almost the same millisecond after your body is covered by the sofa, the rapid clicking of gun triggers sends a spray of bullets in your direction.

The movement of them cuts the room into a frenzied spiral of disturbed air, the harsh cracks of the bullets' exit a ring in your ears.