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Myungjun woke feeling dazed and confused. His head pounded in his skull and his limbs felt heavy. He sighed deeply, but paused when he realized something was shoved into his mouth.
He tried to bring his hands up to pull whatever it was away, but his arms were bound behind him. His legs wouldn’t move, either.
He opened his eyes.
He wasn’t at home. He was in a small room with a television in one corner and a bed near the center. He was along a far wall, seated in a chair, bound to it. He tugged at his restraints, but it was to no avail.
His heart raced in his chest, but then he heard a voice.
“You’re up!”
He spun his head around and his eyes widened when he noticed a man standing nearby, watching him with interest.
Myungjun recognized this man. He tried to think back to where he had seen him before.
He had been folding laundry. He had been talking to his dog. The doorbell had rung, and the man was on the other side. And then —
He couldn’t remember what happened after that. But it was obvious, looking around the room and then back at the man.
He had been kidnapped.
The dread and panic was quickly settling in. He glanced frantically for the door, and when he found it, he tried to scoot himself closer, to get to that damn door , to reach it and escape.
But his kidnapper stepped closer. Myungjun whined out, trying to scream around the gag, but very little sound was produced. He was stuck, and the kidnapper was right in front of him.
Tears sprung to his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, trying his best not to cry. The man touched him, and Myungjun jolted.
“I need a picture of you,” the man stated. He held up a phone. “Open your eyes?”
Myungjun didn’t know what would happen if he disobeyed. He tried his luck; he kept his eyes closed. His body tensed when he felt the man’s fingers cup his cheek.
Then the man started trying to wrench his eyes opened.
“Open, please,” he said, still pleasant, as if he wasn’t manhandling Myungjun in a painful manner.
So Myungjun opened them. He gave a sob of defeat, then wailed around his gag.
The man took a picture of him. He typed a few things out on the phone, eyes narrowed in concentration, then muttered, “There we go.”
The sight of a cell phone gave Myungjun some hope. If he could wait until the man left, or slept, then somehow get out of his bindings, he could call for help.
However, the man wrapped his hand around the phone and squeezed. Myungjun could hear the crack, and then pieces of the phone began to break off, falling onto the carpeted floor.
He broke it with his hands.
He didn’t even seem to exert himself. He simply crushed it with his bare hands.
Myungjun cowered back into his chair. He cried again, dipping his head onto his chest as he realized the predicament he was in. This man could kill him in an instant. This man likely would kill him in an instant. It was only a matter of time. Why else would Myungjun have been kidnapped if not for his life to end in death?
He could only wonder what would be done to him before death.
“I’m not allowed to talk to you,” the man suddenly stated, as if the phone-crushing ordeal never happened. Myungjun spared a glance back over to him. The man was smiling.
Why was he smiling?
“I was told to leave you in here and take a picture. I’ve sent your picture to a number on the cell phone. Then I was told to destroy the phone.” He glanced at the pieces and said, “I feel bad for the phone. It was disposed of. I was supposed to be disposed of. But not now. I have a job to do now! I’m being very useful. It’s a lot of fun.”
Myungjun sniffed. He didn’t understand what this man was talking about. His words, while pleasant to the tone, scared Myungjun. There was a mastermind behind the kidnapping, if the man was to be believed. And someone now had a picture of him being restrained. Was he a hostage? For who, though? What purpose did any of this serve?
There was one silver lining to his ordeal, however; if he was a hostage, then he likely would not die.
“Sad,” the man blurted out. He pointed at Myungjun’s face. “Crying means you’re sad.”
Myungjun bit into his gag and watched the man step closer. He shook his head, not sure what he thought it would accomplish.
The man reached a hand out and Myungjun winced, squeezing his eyes shut and awaiting the touch again. It came, soft and gentle. A finger wiped at a tear, then caressed his cheek.
“You feel nice, Myungjun,” the man said.
Myungjun peeked out at him. He shook underneath the touch, fearful of what else would happen.
“I have never felt a human in such a manner.”
Human? What did that mean?
“The man I am serving is my favorite human. He is very nice. But you are also one of my favorites. You are very nice, as well.”
Myungjun did not know this man, and he wasn’t sure what was being said.
“I am not supposed to speak to you,” the man repeated. He withdrew his hand and Myungjun felt like he could breathe again. “I was only to take a photo of you and send it. Then I was told to wait and keep you here. I am not sure why we are waiting.”
Waiting wasn’t what Myungjun wanted to do. He wanted to leave. He wanted to escape. He wanted to go back to his normal life and pretend like this had never happened.
“I saw the sun today,” the man said, once more confusing Myungjun. “It was beautiful.”
Myungjun stared longingly at the door. He had to escape. Escape was the only thing on his mind.
“You are also beautiful,” the man said. Myungjun glanced at him. The man smiled; despite being a kidnapper, his smile was warm.
Myungjun hoped he would die.
“We will have to wait.” The man sat down on the bed, eyes trained solely on Myungjun. “I do not know how long we will wait for.”
Myungjun’s heart pounded in his chest. He tugged at his bindings again, but the man did not move.
“I can wait forever, though,” the man said.
Myungjun returned his stare, and found no hesitation in the man’s gaze. He was steadfast and determined. He really would wait forever. He was a psychopath, and he would keep Myungjun here forever, if that’s what his kidnapping plot entailed.
Myungjun cried again, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto his pants.
And through it all, the man watched.