Take My Hand | KNJ ONE-SHOTS & IMAGINES

Pain

The bruises make every breath excruciating. The world spins and tilts as black spots begin to swarm in your field of vision. You feel yourself begin to lose consciousness. "Shit, shit, shit." As you walk, each step makes you want to scream. But you can't stop now. He could be right behind you. He said he'd kill you, and you know he would. With no hesitation, without an ounce of remorse. This knowledge spurs you on. Even though you feel like you're going to die, you'd rather die here than go anywhere near him. Not again. Never again. You—

"...ey... Hey... Are you... ay...?"

What? You try to move and a searing pain shoots through your abdomen. A scream tears up your throat before you can stop it. Oh no. What if He's nearby? What if he heard? Fuck. You have to get away; now.

"Hey! Don't do that! Relax!" Strong hands shoot out to pin your wrists down. A surge of panic floods through your veins, paralyzing you completely. Your body falls still while your mind continues to race. "Can you speak? Can you open your eyes?"

In response, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. "If..." Oh, your voice sounds rough, like you've shoved a pile of gravel down your throat. It hurts. After a moment, you slowly open your eyes. If you're going to die, you want to see the bastard's face. You want to look him dead in the eyes while he kills you. You hope he remembers your face for as long as he lives.

The face above yours slowly comes into focus. Whoa. This person is definitely not the man you're running from. Upon seeing you open your eyes, the man's features flood with relief. "Hey."

"Wh—" You start to speak, but the man holds up a hand to silence you.

"It's okay," he says. His voice is low and soft. He's trying to soothe you. "You're safe now. You don't have to worry. Just try to rest." The man stands tall, biting his lip before giving you a small smile. "My friend's a doctor. I'll let him know you're awake." He moves to leave the room.

"N—" You wince and press your fingertips to your throat. Instead, you shake your head. You don't want to be alone for even a second. You hope he's able to understand.

"You don't want me to leave?" The man comes back to stand at your side. "Okay. I'll stay right here. I'll just... text him." He pulls out his phone and fires off a quick text. His phone chimes a few seconds later. He glances at his screen, flexing a muscle in his jaw. "He said he has a few more patients to check on before his shift ends, but he'll be here as soon as it's over."

You open your mouth to speak, but again you're met with a pain in your throat. You look around helplessly but the only things in the room besides the bed you're laying in are a messy dresser, a small, cluttered entertainment center, and a desk. The desk is surprisingly neat, a stark contrast to everything else in the room. You frantically point towards the desk.

"Hmm?" The man's brow furrows in confusion as he turns his head to follow your jabbing finger. "My desk? What do... Ah!" His eyes light up in realization. "I understand!" He hurries over to the desk, grabbing a bottle of hand sanitizer. "Here!" He squirts a pump into your hand.

Oh, God. This guy's an idiot...

You shake your head, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You keep pointing at the desk. The man's brow furrows further as he walks back over to the desk. He opens a few drawers and pulls out a journal. He holds it up. "This?"

You nod frantically, feeling relief flood through your chest. When he grabs a pen, the feeling intensifies. The man flips to a clean page and hands the journal and pen over to you.

Who are you? Where am I?

When you're done writing, you flip the notebook around to show him.