Madhouse || Park Jimin

21

Cold...

My bare feet stand against the snow, freezing every part of my body.

I look down and see myself wearing a white dress.

I need to run. He's coming.

Run!

Instantly, I start running further into the woods. Snow flakes fall on me, caressing my bare arms while I run desperately.

I don't feel parts of my body because of how freezing cold it is.

I stop, leaning my back against a tree and breathing heavily.

Help... please.

And then I hear it, a sinister, mocking laugh.

Oh god, no.

I move away from the tree and start running again.

I pray and plead to God he doesn't catch me again.

I know my only hope are my nearest neighbors. Even though their house is very far, I need to run, I need to keep going.

My lungs burn every time I breathe in the freezing air.

I hear footsteps behind me and dare to look over my shoulder.

A scream leaves my lips when I see him.

Him...

The monster that took everything away from me. My hunter.

I keep running even though I know he'll soon catch me.

When I feel him just behind me I take a thick tree branch and turn around, pointing it at him.

"Don't come any closer!" I yell at him.

"___." He pronounces my name perfectly.

My arms shake but I hold the branch firmly.

"Please stop... let me go, please," I say shakily. He's already destroyed everything. Isn't it enough for him?

"No." He takes a step towards me and I hit him as hard as I can with the branch but he catches it, snatching it from my hands and throwing it away.

I tremble in fear and try to turn around and run but he pushes me, making me fall on my back.

He quickly moves on top of me and I scream so loud that my ears hurt but it doesn't seem to bother him. He knows no one can hear me.

I fight to escape but he takes my hands with one hand and buries them in the snow above my head.

"No, please. Please let me go!" I scream and squirm.

"Shhh, ___."

His free hand falls on my knee where the dress ends and he starts moving it up my leg, lifting the dress.

His breathing accelerates. My pleadings between tears, fear, repulsion and impotence don't seem to affect him at all.

When his hand reaches my thigh, I scream.

"...no!" I jump, waking up and sitting on my bed. Sweat drips off my face and my heart's beating desperately.

Another memory...

I take a sip of water from my night table and look at the clock marking 4:22 am. Why that time? I always have nightmares around that time.

Putting that aside, that disturbing memory makes me realize something: every time I remember something about the killer, his face is always covered.