Interwoven ✔️

58~ Scenes

It's interesting how darkness is often described as black waters in which you must swim out and break the surface to reconnect with the living world above.

For me, darkness was a void of starless skies in which I was suspended in. For just a few moments, I was weightless, hovering in the vast expanse of absolute nothingness. And then I was falling. And falling. And falling.

My eyes flew open. Harsh iodoform and disinfect air filled my lungs.

A dim light swung on the ceiling above, its yellow rays piercing my eyes as my pupils tries to adjust. I was laying in some narrow cot, a few thin sheets covering me and keeping me minimally warm.

I tried to look around. That was when the pain rushed through me.

Everywhere, every bone and fiber of my very being shrieked in one agonized symphony. Pain slammed through my skull. A small gasp escaped me.

Something moved. My heart lurched as I realized there was a weight right beside one of my legs. I painstakingly looked down my laid out body, and found wide eyes looking back.

There was a chair pulled up right beside my bed where he must've been sitting in for who knew how long. At some point it looked like he'd fallen asleep, his head resting on the edge of the bed by my legs.

"Hey partner," Jimin whispered. He stiffly sat upright in his chair, hair on one side of his head sticking up a little from where it had been pressed against the sheets.

"Hey."

My voice was raw, throat sore.

He reached forward to take my hands into his with heartbreaking gentleness. For the first time I noticed the bruises and split skin all over my knuckles. Countless cuts and more ugly contusions lacerated up my arm before they all disappeared under the clean white hospital gown sleeve. My gut twisted.

"How are you feeling?"

Feeling. How was I feeling? What was I feeling?

A shadow flickered across Jimin's face at my lack of response. He shifted so he was now sitting on the edge of the cot that I was in.

I realized I was in one of the many small infirmary rooms of the base. Hence the sharp bite of disinfect hovering in the air all around me. There was only room for the small bed I was laying in, the chair, and a small cabinet on the other side of the room with bottles and medicines inside.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jimin asked softly.

Talk about what? I blinked unseeingly at the door of the room. It was ever so slightly cracked, allowing a sliver of imagery of the hallway beyond. I swore I saw people go by however I couldn't hear a sound aside from the silence in the room that was growing heavier by the second.

"Jiyeon..." Jimin leaned forward, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You haven't shed a single tear or done anything yet. You can't keep it pent up inside forever. Believe me, I know. I need you to talk to me. What are you thinking about?"

As if on its own, my breaths became shorter. I didn't know why though. It was as suddenly if my body couldn't take in enough oxygen.

"Would it help if I talked about what I'm feeling? How I felt?" He asked softly. "And then you tell me what you're feeling okay?"

I didn't want to. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to tell him what I was feeling. I didn't even know what I was feeling.

"Scared."

I watched as Jimin gently ran his thumb across my palms, brushing over the faint scar on my hand the night the assassins had broken into our Sharehouse.