Jimin. /PJM/

3

My mind whirs at a million miles per hour as I try to figure out my escape plan bolting down the corridor.

I know my body's weak so I have to make it out quickly and find somewhere to rest.

In a matter of seconds from me leaving the unit, the alarm sounds, ringing through the building.

Finally a sense of panic begins to emerge.

I need to escape.

My mind becomes a whirlwind of panic as I dart through unfamiliar corridors and down flights of stairs that lead to unknown places. Eventually I reach the lowest level I can get to, pushing open the door and seeing a large car park. People are running around in crisis as the alarm continues to sound.

Escape.

It's the only word in my head and my natural instinct is to call out for him, but he's not here, I ran from him.

I see vehicles moving in and out of the building, what's outside, I'm not sure.

My feet carry me as fast as they can, heading towards the exit. I move briskly yet carefully, hiding behind cars every now and then before I make it to the exit.

I can't just walk out.

I take my opportunity to jump into the back of a loading van, hiding behind the large cardboard boxes before more are placed in and the doors are shut.

I feel the van begin to move and sigh in relief. My heart rate is still pounding, making my vision go cloudy after all the effort it took to get out.

I wonder if he got out.

I wonder if he's okay.

I sigh to myself, thousands of thoughts flooding my mind. I just wanted to escape...why do I care so much about someone who really cares so little about me? I'm just another patient, just another life that could be used to their advantage. I'm not crazy.

I'm not crazy.

I'm not crazy. So why am I here? I don't need help. I don't need treatment. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not crazy?

Am I?

I have to be contained...not just for my protection but those around me. Why do they say that? What do they mean? What are they treating me for? I've done nothing wrong.

"All loaded up." I hear one of the men call - shortly followed by the slamming of the van doors and the starting of the engine. We're moving.

I can't remember how long I was in the van, or after how long I fell asleep, but the journey was long and I was woken by men's shouts. "I think she's that girl who escaped the facility. Didn't you hear the alarms when we left?"

I peel my eyes open, gasping when I feel a rope around one of my wrists. They tied me to a metal pole...in the middle of a dusty yard? Where even are we?

"Oh, she's awake. How are you feeling, sweetheart? Did you enjoy sleeping in the back of my van?" one of the men surrounding me leans down to my level and grips me by the chin, "You're one of those psychos from the facility, aren't you?"

I frantically shake my head. I'm not a psychopath.

The others chuckle at my reaction, the man in front of me tapping me on the side of the head, "Listen, love, I have no problem with setting you free, as long as you don't bother me or my men with your little mental problem."

"I don't have a mental problem."

"They don't put people in there just for fun, sweetheart. I've met the staff who work there and they're a bunch of nutjobs too. I don't know what sort of solutions they have for people like you, but they can't be very pleasant." he frowns slightly, "It is, however, even more unfortunate that you happened to get in my van. And for that, you have a price to pay. I don't run a taxi service."

"What do you want?" I giggle with nervousness.

"See, you are a little loopy, aren't you, love?" he smiles eerily, "How about a hug?"

"A hug?"

He nods, moving closer towards me and wrapping his arms around me. Before I know what's happening, his hands are in all the wrong places...I scream, dragging my nails violently across the skin of his arms. He instantly retreats, growling at the bloody scratches I've left on him.

"Han, what the fuck was that?" the man in front of me retreats desperately as another man appears behind me, pulling me away from 'Han' by the waist. I let out a small squeak at the sudden action. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I nod, turning my head to see the man now kneeling beside me.

"What's your name?" he asks, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and removing the rope tied to my wrist.

"I don't know." I say, scanning my mind for any memory of my name. Nothing. Do all people have names?

"You don't know?" he nods, "Well, I'm Yoongi. I'm in charge of everything here, including those dogs."

He glances over at the men who have now backed off, their heads bowed in respect.

"Listen, I know you come from the facility and they're currently looking for you. But I'm willing to look after you for a little while until you're in good enough health to leave. Just promise me you won't hurt anyone? That's my job." He chuckles, gently grabbing my hand and pulling us up. "Are you okay to walk?"