Pandora Unleashed ✔️

See you, Bambi

* ⚠️ trigger warnings: mentions of murder, violence, misogyny, psychological and physical abuse.

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       "Jesus Christ!"

The loud exclaim from Miss Jessi when I flicked the light of the living room on must have scared her shitless. I am sure she didn't expect I would be waiting for her arrival.

I study her as she relaxes upon recognizing me.
She then throws her handbag on the couch opposite where I'm sitting as she goes on and on about the trials and turbulences of what transpired in the courtroom earlier.

I'm not interested. I'm not invested. Jackson only had himself to blame for his misfortune.

However, when Miss Jessi mentioned Miss Chungha, I glare up at her. The look of worry streams out of her and I can tell she's panicking. Apparently, the Judge wants to revisit the events that led to Miss Chungha's death.

Should I, too, be worried?

Honestly, as much as I care about Jackson, I should have stayed out of this mess.
It was unnecessary of me to insert myself in domestic affairs. But, when a dear old friend's sweet fiancé is practically on her knees, pleading to assist her, I didn't have the heart then to reject such a breathtaking sight of a submissive woman.

That, however, was my own damn fault. I'm a sucker for 'save me, kind sir' eyes. So, I did.

Looking back at it now, this whole ordeal with Miss Chungha is such a God-awful waste of my time. I wouldn't have stuck my neck out for the Styles family, yet again, if I knew then this drama would never end.

Hindsight twenty-twenty, I suppose.

       "You said the dust was clear. You said you would help him. We are back to where we started. God only knows what the prosecution has up their sleeves ..."

I'm zoning out. The string that controls the light wants me to pull at it, so I do. The sound of her husky and rather annoying voice fades away as the thought of you, my sweet Bambi, occurs.

Often, I catch myself wondering what your take is on all of this. You were right on the money with your conspiracy theory, slightly off, but fairly close to the truth.

I think about that afternoon almost every day.

The sight of your bruises, your swollen lips, and the look in your teary and terrified eyes. You always did appear the most erotic when you were shaken to your core. The uncertainty of the unknown.

I think about that afternoon a lot but the pleasant exchanges between us often get overshadowed by the thought of the kid.
The actual set of balls on him; to challenge me, to question the authenticity of our relationship, to corrupt you so heavily that you chose him over me.

I stand by my statement. These people aren't healthy for you. You don't need them, not really, not the way you need me. 

       "Are you listening, Namjoon? God. How can you not be worried?"

       I stared up at the plastic-filled creature as she roars in frustration and with uncertainty, "Stop panicking." I attempt to reassure but it seems as though she isn't interested in anything I have to say.

What a pity.

       "Fix this. My Jackie is taking the blame for something you did. He trusted you, goddamn it, so fix this!" I watch her intensely as I wait for the one thing I know for certain she'll use to try to bully me into submission. "What the hell is your purpose? Why are we wasting our resources on keeping you safe from the authorities if you aren't willing to hold up your end of the deal?" And there it is.