important.
“Jong-soo.”
My eyes drifted around the room.
A voice?
Yes, there had been a voice when I woke up.
But I gave it no mind. I had no strength to do so.
Slowly, I let my eyes sink into the world. Taking in more and more of my hellish prison. My hands scrabbled underneath where the ground fragments of the plate had smashed from yesterday lay sparkling.
All those pieces into Hyun-jun’s skin. I looked at my hands, studying the veins pumping blood towards my sturdy heart.
Blood rolled down in streaks across my skin, dousing my hair in brown-red—the droplets dripped off strings of my hair, matted and stuck to my scalp.
“Who?” I mumbled. With no food in my system—or at least decent food—I did not have the power to say much else. I tried to muster up my strength though. The Double Dragons might have raised me, but I did go to college for a couple of semesters. I took up some psychology classes. Positive thinking and reframing the situation was supposed to help: so I trained myself in those moments, as I lifted my head up for the umpteenth time, to think about the future in a good and bright way. What else could I possibly do?
“I have your food,” the voice continued. A woman. But not the woman of my dreams.
She seemed familiar though. Who was she again? I wracked my brain for answers. All of my glial cells worked hard, gray matter sluicing together, putting a name to her face.
“Bit-na,” I said. I sat upright, finding more strength within me. She had a plate in her hand. Bread on the center of the ceramic. “Is it my mealtime?”
She nodded.
Standing at about five-seven in height, with auburn-brown hair and tawny eyes, dark skin, Bit-na had to be one of the prettiest jailbirds I had ever seen. She wasn’t imprisoned with me, although I did wish so.
But compared to the concrete and the steel frames? The bars holding me in? The blood dripping down my face and onto my arms?
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, not exactly in the right mindset. “What are you doing working for someone like Oh-seong?”
Bit-na giggled. I suspected she knew who I was via my singing acts and label. What had happened to LBC Records and Boy’s Generation? Were they still active? Looking for me? All of the money being laundered…
“You ask me that all the time,” she said, kneeling low to the ground. Opening the prison cell a crack, she slid the plate filled with bread through, close enough so that my legs could curl back underneath my ass. From there, I could reach the bread with just the tips of my fingers alone.
We went through those motions, surely enough. I waited for my answer.
I had been waiting for some time.
“I think I’m going to keep asking,” I said. My voice sounded so harsh, hoarse. Like I had been drugged, beaten, and flayed. I must’ve looked like death itself. “There isn’t much of anything to do in this prison anyway. You guys don’t give me much entertainment.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, standing up. She wore high heels, which looked incongruent with the dirty concrete of the hallways outside my prison cell. Looking up to the skylight, a wisp of dust swirled overhead like a swarm of gnats, and that too made her seem even more… desperate?
Not only was she wearing heels, but she had a tight miniskirt on and a bra.
No shirt, no halter top.
A bra.
“You think you can keep visiting me here and not say how much you like me,” I said, smirking. “I know you’ve got something on me. That Oh-seong boy? A boy, just that.”
Bit-na shook her head.
We had gone like this for some time, back and forth, exchanging little fragments of ourselves, but never revealing the totality of who we were in those days: me, literally broken, her, spiritually so.
“I’ll be back later,” she said, walking away. I watched her ass shake from one side to
“Jong-soo.”
My eyes drifted around the room.
A voice?
Yes, there had been a voice when I woke up.
But I gave it no mind. I had no strength to do so.
Slowly, I let my eyes sink into the world. Taking in more and more of my hellish prison. My hands scrabbled underneath where the ground fragments of the plate had smashed from yesterday lay sparkling.
All those pieces into Hyun-jun’s skin. I looked at my hands, studying the veins pumping blood towards my sturdy heart.
Blood rolled down in streaks across my skin, dousing my hair in brown-red—the droplets dripped off strings of my hair, matted and stuck to my scalp.
“Who?” I mumbled. With no food in my system—or at least decent food—I did not have the power to say much else. I tried to muster up my strength though. The Double Dragons might have raised me, but I did go to college for a couple of semesters. I took up some psychology classes. Positive thinking and reframing the situation was supposed to help: so I trained myself in those moments, as I lifted my head up for the umpteenth time, to think about the future in a good and bright way. What else could I possibly do?
“I have your food,” the voice continued. A woman. But not the woman of my dreams.
She seemed familiar though. Who was she again? I wracked my brain for answers. All of my glial cells worked hard, gray matter sluicing together, putting a name to her face.
“Bit-na,” I said. I sat upright, finding more strength within me. She had a plate in her hand. Bread on the center of the ceramic. “Is it my mealtime?”
She nodded.
Standing at about five-seven in height, with auburn-brown hair and tawny eyes, dark skin, Bit-na had to be one of the prettiest jailbirds I had ever seen. She wasn’t imprisoned with me, although I did wish so.
But compared to the concrete and the steel frames? The bars holding me in? The blood dripping down my face and onto my arms?
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, not exactly in the right mindset. “What are you doing working for someone like Oh-seong?”
Bit-na giggled. I suspected she knew who I was via my singing acts and label. What had happened to LBC Records and Boy’s Generation? Were they still active? Looking for me? All of the money being laundered…
“You ask me that all the time,” she said, kneeling low to the ground. Opening the prison cell a crack, she slid the plate filled with bread through, close enough so that my legs could curl back underneath my ass. From there, I could reach the bread with just the tips of my fingers alone.
We went through those motions, surely enough. I waited for my answer.
I had been waiting for some time.
“I think I’m going to keep asking,” I said. My voice sounded so harsh, hoarse. Like I had been drugged, beaten, and flayed. I must’ve looked like death itself. “There isn’t much of anything to do in this prison anyway. You guys don’t give me much entertainment.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, standing up. She wore high heels, which looked incongruent with the dirty concrete of the hallways outside my prison cell. Looking up to the skylight, a wisp of dust swirled overhead like a swarm of gnats, and that too made her seem even more… desperate?
Not only was she wearing heels, but she had a tight miniskirt on and a bra.
No shirt, no halter top.
A bra.
“You think you can keep visiting me here and not say how much you like me,” I said, smirking. “I know you’ve got something on me. That Oh-seong boy? A boy, just that.”
Bit-na shook her head.
We had gone like this for some time, back and forth, exchanging little fragments of ourselves, but never revealing the totality of who we were in those days: me, literally broken, her, spiritually so.
“I’ll be back later,” she said, walking away. I watched her ass shake from one side to
Similar Books
