Here I Lie // ATEEZ ✔

- prologue -

"Let's play a game, shall we? I will count to 20 and you can run away from me, but if I ever catch up to you, I will kill you. Sounds simple, right?"

He is breathing heavily, his eyes are wide and his lips twitch slightly from the sheer enjoyment of seeing his victim trembling in front of him. His eyes bore into his victim's, taking in delight from the trembling of the latter's pupils. He gives off a spine-chilling laugh that reverberates through the dark forest, blending in with the sound of water splashing from a nearby river and the distant footsteps of wild animals. Night is approaching, snow is falling heavier but he has no intentions on stopping his taunt on the victim. He rips away the victim's jacket and throws it away behind him, making a point to make sure it lands far and is unreachable.

"I'm giving you a chance, so now... run."

I am the victim. I scramble to get up, for his instructions do not need any repeats. I shiver from my lack of a jacket but that is the least of my worries now. I let my bare feet dig into the thick snow, shocking me with pain both due to the open wound on my left sole and the cold biting into my skin. I try not to let it bother me as I have only one thought in my mind: run. My life depends on my feet bringing me as far away from that place, the starting point of my worst nightmares coming to life. I risk a glance to see what I hope is one last look at my tormentor, the devil that took the form of a human. He seems to be holding on to his words for he is rooted at the previous spot, his arms crossed and his mouth slowly taking shape of the numbers he is counting up. One, two, three... that is as far as where I look.

I turn my head forward, almost stumbling over roots that cover the ground like hundreds of venomous snakes. I remind myself that they do not bite, that they are merely parts of a living thing that cannot move, but my muddled mind is already making up images that are not true and my ears are already catching weird sounds that are whispered almost forcefully. My feet step on something sharp, tearing open my wound bigger, eliciting a cry from me, but I quickly bring up a hand to cover my mouth, as I fear that it would give my position away. I do not want to be caught for the second time.

I look ahead of me, trying to figure out a way so I can escape. It all looks the same to me, trees with aging barks and thick trunks scattered around, their leaves weighed down by snow, sometimes giving a faint thud as the snow falls to the ground. My cheeks are starting to get wet from the tears that I have accumulated and my eyes are starting to itch, from keeping them open rather forcefully and trying to see past the darkening view. I need my whole body to function so that I can finally escape this place, but it seems that every part of my body is slowly shutting themselves down one by one, starting from my eyes. I promise to myself that even if I go blind, I will make sure that I get out of here before he manages to count until 20.

How long has it been?

I stagger forward, my vision becoming blurry as I feel another second passes by. My hands seem to follow next as I feel them starting to get numb from the cold, but I keep reminding myself: I only need a beating heart, one pair of working legs and a sane mind to emerge out of this maze. I do not care if I lose my eyes or my hands, for as long as I can walk myself out of this, I will be able to live. I see a road, at least I think I see a road, so maybe my sense of direction has not failed me this time, but I cannot rest until I find someone that can help me. It is as if I can smell the asphalt from here, the smell enticing me to climb up the hill, the final obstacle to the end of my torment.

I start climbing up, my palms grasping at invisible platforms that can heave me up. I grab a handful of fallen leaves before sliding back down again, the process making my heart feel cold from the dread and the exhaustion. I will my heart to keep beating, because I would not let it stop when I have come this far. As frustration and determination mix inside me, I find myself digging my fingers into the soft soil, taking them out and planting them again until I feel myself making a move up. I need to touch that asphalt, I need to feel it as to make sure this is not a dream. My nails are chipped from hitting them against jutted rocks, and I see blood pooling on the nail bed, colouring my nails a shade of crimson. At this point I feel that my nociceptor nerve endings are all severed for I feel no pain at all, or it is the extreme fear that I am feeling that makes me immune to the pain.

I did it, I can touch the asphalt now. I lay flat on the asphalt because the fatigue is coming over me, but I still have one last thing to do before I can rest; I need to find help. The ground seems to rumble for a moment and as I train my ears to identify what sound it is, I see light. The light is like my beacon of hope, and as I raise my arms to catch the attention of the oncoming car, I try to shout but no sound comes out. Please help me, I want to say, but only a strangled moan comes out. Is my voice box the next body part I'm going to lose?

I wave like a madman, for that is what I am right now. The car is already at the bend, and it will only take a few seconds for it to reach me. I see it, the vehicle that is going to bring me out of this hellhole, approaching quickly. My arms drop and I stop waving, but it is not because I am tired or the car has finally stopped. I feel a strong blow to the back of my head, making my body crash onto the asphalt and although I cannot see it, my face must have been disfigured from the impact. I raise up an arm weakly, trying to shield myself from whatever is coming next, but it is of no use, as the devil has caught up with me. He grabs a fistful of my hair, dirtying his hands with my blood, snapping my head backwards so that I can see a part of his face. He is crouching near my body, his grip on me firm.

The car, someone driving the car can be my saviour and I still have a little bit of hope in me. I taste blood in my mouth, my eyes searching for the vehicle. It's coming nearer to where we are, so maybe there is still a chance for me to make it out alive. The car nears, but it does not stop. Did the driver not see us? It would be impossible because we are on the road, my tormentor keeping my head up for whatever twisted reason he's having. The car passes by us, but even words of asking for rescue is a hard thing for me to vocalize at this point. I am only spewing out blood from my mouth, coughing onto the road to rid of the awful taste. I catch the sight of a baseball bat, for which I know that was what he had used to hit me from behind.

As the car does not stop, I feel that my heart would. The image of the driver will forever be ingrained in my mind; the horrified look, and the look of someone who has no intentions of helping the poor person lying down, broken, on the asphalt. We lock eyes for a second, but the driver simply looks away, continuing on with the journey. My tormentor gives off a laugh, jabbing at my pitiful self for having hope that there would actually be someone who is willing to help me. The light that was my beacon of hope becomes extinguished within mere seconds, the driver stepping on the accelerator to leave us behind. With my weak eyes I read the number plate of the car, repeating it and remembering it, unsure of where it's going to lead me, for it seems that I no longer have the opportunity to live.

When the two of us are left alone, he stands up before kicking me, rolling me like I am a log, and he pushes his foot against my head, making the blood flows out without a plug to stop it. He kicks me down the hill which I desperately climbed, and the dry leaves stick to my body as I collect them like trophies, my blood acting as glue to present me as a sculpture of broken hopes by the time I reach the bottom. He slides down the hill with ease, swinging the bat like he's about to jump into another game. It is, it is a game to him. He is the player, while I am the ball that he is about to hit hard to throw it far away. When I no longer move, accepting the fact that he is the last person I will be seeing, he raises the bat high above his head, but he doesn't swing it down. Yet.

"I told you to get out of my sight, didn't I? I told you that I will kill you if I find you. Is 20 not enough for you?"

It is not, but I have no voice left to answer. My crimson blood seeps into the white snow, making art as I'm dying on the ground. He clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction as he notices that my eyes are only looking up at the sky, as if I'm already seeing the destination I'm going to next. Maybe dying is not so bad at all, I think to myself as I see the shining stars and the full moon inviting me to join them. What would it feel like to live among the stars? I wonder if it is a place that can rid me of this torment. I close my eyes when I see the shadow of him coming closer to me. It is not the snow that is making me cold, but his final words that he utters as he prepares to take my life away from me is what will haunt me forever.

"Open... your eyes."

And I do.