⊰ 2 ⊱

497 24 9
                                    

Wails echoed around the damp, murky prison; his already pale skin was now white as paper, except for all the bruises that painted patterns on his skin. Won't be long before that fragile body was broken down by the wanton cruelties of his Master, as his wrath kept escalating with his unsuccessful endeavours to get something out of his catch.

It didn't even seem like an interrogation anymore, he had intensified his tortures, disguising them as measures for breaking down the captive, while subconsciously it was just his unhealthy way of coping up with his guilt of dereliction.

But his Master was too delusional with his pride to notice that. Despite risking their lives to save his face, it was yet again a failure born out of another. Seonghwa was so clouded with anger, he never tried to accept the fact that the captive indeed was not someone who possessed the intelligence he sought, refusing to allow any response except a confession.

Or maybe he was very well aware of the fact but just used him as an outlet of his pent-up frustration.

And right now, yet again, he was going down the same hill.

He roughly grabbed on the man's pale, bruised face, the captive, if possible, could have flinched out of his skin, "Different scenarios, with a different end every time, I will take you to the brink of death, then bring you back again, that is till you want to play this game."

What's the point of using crafty, courteous language to give a death threat? But that's how Seonghwa was. A craftsman of words and wounds.

After giving a last blow of disappointment he stomped out.

Jongho had to follow him, but his eyes were betraying him, not being able to leave the sight of the vulnerable, whimpering mess.

Suddenly it struck him, 'It could have been me that night-' The possibility initiated a body-quake; he reminisced the helplessness, the dread he felt in that foreign land. It made him relate to the captives anguish, but nothing he could do more than silently sympathise.

Peeling his gaze off the battered form, he turned away to follow his Master, he didn't want to add fuel to his fury any further.

Enslaved  | JongsangWhere stories live. Discover now