Chapter Text
You sighed as you exited the club and into the dark alley. Your best friend, [f/n], had dragged you on yet another “night out,” even though you weren’t the club-going type. Always the same shit, you thought as you huffed and slumped your shoulders. It was a tiring work day and all you wanted to do was go home and eat your favorite ice cream.
Narrowly avoiding a protruding rock in the now desolate street, you looked down at your worn [f/c] heels. I wish I had the same magnitude as [f/n]. They always enjoy themselves at clubs. You furrowed your eyebrows for the 200th time that night, continuing to walk down a street that you didn’t recognize but also didn’t care enough to change.
You heard a shout. Looking up, you noticed that there was a limping figure a little farther down the street. “Oh my god,” you gasped, your brain not realizing the danger of the situation; feet already carrying you towards the figure. “Sir! What happened, are you alr-” you were cut off as the person suddenly straightened out. “Stupid girl,” he said, voice gravelly, pushing you down onto the concrete, scraping your back in the process. You cried out as he began to twist your arms way past where they should be, hearing a sickening crack. The last thing you saw was a black car pulling up to your side before your vision faded and your world as you knew it was gone.
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“Wake up, sweetheart,” you heard, your body struggling to catch up with your darkening surroundings. You lifted your head, immediately feeling the pain and soreness in your right arm. You hissed when someone grabbed your face. The man was quite handsome- with fluffy pink hair, full lips, and clear eyes, his looks could kill. He smiled at you enchantingly. “Do you know where you are?” He questioned, examining your face for bruises.
You tried to move your hands before noticing that they were tied to the back of the chair you were resting on. “No,” you croaked, voice cracking. You coughed and tried again. “No, I don’t know where I am. How the hell am I supposed to? I was mugged and got dragged here. What do you want from me?” You sassed, voice gaining power the more you talked. He grimaced when he heard your tone of voice. He let go of your face, moving to behind you. You tried to move your gaze with him but he pushed your head forward, hand connecting with your throat. He tightened his grip a little, and you felt his breath fan the shell of your ear.
“That’s not the answer I wanted,” he crooned, lips dangerously close. “You sure you don’t know? You should be familiar with this area…this is your old warehouse, after all.” You stiffened when he spoke, mind racing. I should know this area? I’ve never been here before. Do I give him some bullshit answer or do I honestly tell him? I guess if I answer truthfully he’ll realize I don’t know. He chuckled when he noticed your posture. “Guess you do remember then, huh?” You gulped.
“I seriously don’t know. You’re freaking me out,” you stated, tears starting to cloud your vision. His body moved to the front of you, letting go of your neck and grabbing something off a nearby table. Turning toward you again, you realized that it was a small knife.
“Time to make you remember again, then.”
—-
After three hours of continuous torture and you constantly refusing his requests for information, he finally gave you a break. Not only had he teased your skin with the knife, he had burned you, waterboarded you, and broken some of your limbs. He had really put you through the wringer.
You lightly ran your tongue over your cracked, split lip and winced at the roughness. Your cheeks were crusty and tear-stained. Your neck was black and blue, with little trails of blood from where he had pressed the knife against you. Your right arm was broken, you had torn clothes, there were burn marks on your stomach and thighs. You didn’t think you could handle much more. When will he get it that I seriously don’t know anything? After maybe about ten minutes of rest, he finally came back into the dimly lit room.
“If you’re not going to tell me anything, I’m going to let you suffer and die. Or…” he trailed off, smirking deviously. He bent down, hands lightly skimming your upper thighs. He looked down at your left shin. “Still going to keep quiet?” He asked, his chocolate brown eyes flickering to your face. At this point, you can’t even speak; you had spent all your voice screaming in pain. He scoffed. “I guess that’s right, then.” With that final word, he twisted your leg. Your mouth opened in a silent cry of pain, eyes glossing over. You’re pretty sure he just broke your shin. You panted, not being able to do much else. Tears leaked from your eyes, quiet whimpers leaving your lips. Your vision fuzzed even harder, almost completely wiping your eyesight.
Jimin moved to the glass pane in the front, which by now you had known contained some other members of his “gang” that were supervising everything. You heard fast voices, but you couldn’t really make out most of what they were saying. You blacked out yet again.
Across the room, however, Jimin was having a crisis. “What do you mean, not the right [y/n]?!” He whisper-shouted.
“Jimin, the other [y/n] has longer hair. I think…”
“You think what?”
“I think we have the wrong person.”
“Shit.”