come home ; ym | tk | nj

14.

I'm back from my vacation! Next week, another chapter will follow to make up for the lost time, and afterwards I'll continue biweekly again. Also, this chapter is fairly short, I'm so sorry for that... :(

Song of the chapter: Sleep Paralysis by Gabriel Bruce

~

The first thing Jimin thinks of when he wakes up is that he has no memory of what happened.

Usually, when he goes to sleep in the evening and awakes again in the morning, his dream is the one thing that lingers on his mind; and if it's not that, then it's probably the song that his phone woke him up with.
But nothing like that is the case when his consciousness hits him like a stone thrown at him.
Then, he feels the cold, hard ground underneath him. Something digs into his shoulder blade. A tiny pebble.
Jimin opens his eyes.

Darkness.

Pitch black darkness.

Jimin's throat tightens. The feeling rushes through his body, occupies his chest and makes his heart beat painfully hard; when it reaches his stomach, it turns into nausea, so badly that Jimin sits up abruptly and, just in time, he leans right when he already feels the sour and disgusting taste of vomit crawl up his throat. He retches and empties the content of his stomach onto the ground.
There is no strength in his arms, and he falls, but suddenly, there are is an arm that wraps around him and another hand that pats his back.
"It's okay," a voice says, "It's okay."
Yoongi, is what Jimin thinks, for some reason; then, he realizes that it isn't Yoongi's voice. It is a high voice, higher than Yoongi's at least, but not as high as Jimin's.
Jimin doesn't know the voice.
His entire body tenses. He spins around and backs away, his eyes frantically moving left and right, desperate to see something in the darkness. He sees a silhouette, not more. Quickly, Jimin backs away, but way too fast his back hits a wall. His breathing intensifies, yet he feels like he no oxygen reaches his lungs, no matter how fast he breathes.
An involuntary whimper escapes his lips when the silhouette moves towards him, so Jimin falls left and scrambles forward, almost losing balance, but then there is the wall, and Jimin feels like he is falling when he realizes that there is nowhere for him to go. He is trapped.
"Hey, please, calm down," the voice says and comes closer. Jimin sinks to the floor. The wall behind him digs into his back and his head. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut and tears fall, tears of absolute dread because this is it, Jimin is sure of it, this is it.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Jimin's entire body is trembling. He tries not to make any sounds, but it's hard when he can't help but be scared for his life, and the tears that keep on falling hurt.
"Hey, hey," the voice says, and now, it's right in front of him. Jimin dares to open his eyes again. He can see a face, a man, and he is just a meter away from Jimin.
"It's okay," the man whispers, "Calm down, okay? You need to breathe."
Jimin swallows. He gasps for air and nods.
"Breathe with me."
Jimin does. Every time he sees the man's shoulders rise, he inhales, and when they sink, he exhales. They do it a few times until Jimin's breathing has normalized.

"Very good," the man says, "You're doing so well."
And now, Jimin only cries. His face contorts and the tears keep on rolling. He sobs loudly, but other than that, he is quiet. He just... cries.
The man sits cross-legged in front of him and waits patiently. When Jimin's vision clears and his eyes get used to the dark, he eyes the man up and down.

He seems older than Jimin, but still young; probably in his twenties. He has plumb lips, a narrow mouth and a round nose. His eyebrows are a clear eyecatcher: dark and prominent.
He looks tired and worried.

"Where am I?" Jimin dares to ask, "What is happening here?"

The man looks up at him. He doesn't reply immediately, and when he opens his mouth, it's not to give an answer.
"Can you tell me your name?" he asks. Jimin nods hesitantly.
"Ji – Jimin. Park... Jimin."
"Good, very good," the man says, but something in his voice tells Jimin that nothing is good. Not at all.
"Please, just tell me what's going on," Jimin pleads, and his voice is trembling again, "Where am I?"
The man swallows visibly. He lowers his gaze and looks at his hands. His fingers tug at the fabric of his pants. Only now does Jimin realize that he is not wearing any shoes or socks.