The Assassin •Lee Minho•

Chapter.5

Chapter.5
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"The walls are spinning," I said, laying on my stomach as Minho stitched me up. He gave me alcohol to numb the pain. It has helped a lot. But now I'm dizzy and nauseous. I might have consumed too much. I heard him cut the thread. "Okay, you have to get up," he said to me. I whined but listened to him. I tried pushing myself up with my hands, but a sharp pain hit. I groaned and fell back on my stomach.

Minho huffed and helped me up. My shirt started to slide back down over my wound. I watched as Minho grabbed bandages from the first aid kit. He approached me and met my eyes. His eyes lowered down to my shirt. I reached down and lifted my shirt before he could ask me to. "I need you to hold this part." He said to me. I held the bandage in place so he could wrap my torso.

He took a step closer to me. Our faces... inches apart. I could smell his cologne again. I felt my heart start to race as he wrapped the bandage around my stomach. Why does this feel so intimate? Am I suffering from Stockholm syndrome?

We locked eyes for a second as he wrapped the bandage around me. I quickly looked away from him. "So you like to bake?" He asked me. I almost jumped, hearing his voice out of nowhere. The silence was so loud before. "Umm... yeah. I bake cookies, cakes, and all kinds of things." I replied. He finished wrapping the bandage and taped it in place. "I prefer baking cakes, to be honest." I added.

He cleaned up the first aid kit and took it back into the bathroom. I pulled my shirt over my stomach and waited for him to come back out of the bathroom.

He emerged from the bathroom, moving briskly through the room. "What other hobbies do you have?" He asked me.

"Why do you ask?" I asked him.

I watched him reach into his bag, sitting on the dresser. "Why don't you just answer my question?" He asks me with his back to me. I looked down and winced when another sharp pain hit. "Uh... I like to garden, and I write every now and then." I replied.

He was quiet. I heard him zip his bag after retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and placed it across from me. He sat down as he pulled a cigarette from the pack. He placed the cigarette between his lips, closed the pack, and stuffed it in his back pocket. He pulled a lighter from his other pocket and lit the cigarette. I watched his every move. He inhaled the toxic smoke before taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing the toxic smoke into the air.

He met my eyes. "You have all this potential, yet you choose to die..." he said. I didn't know what to say. His gaze was so intense that I had to look away.

"Look at me,"

I slowly built up the courage to look him in the eyes. Our eyes met once again, but this time, I didn't look away. "Why?" He asked me. I thought back to that day when my thoughts had driven me to the edge. When life had shattered every last piece of me. It would only take one minor inconvenience to set me off into a spiral. I'm just not well...

"When you're in that kind of headspace, surrounded by darkness and no one to turn to... nothing stops you." I replied.

My eyes started to burn, but I forced the tears back and swallowed the lump in the back of my throat. His eyes searched my face, he hardly ever showed any emotion, and it always unsettled me.

"What is there to live for anymore?"

He was silent.

"People like me are working their asses off every day, living from paycheck to paycheck with no break." I said.

"It drains you, mentally and physically."

"And here you get to live lavishly in your three story home with fresh air, food to eat, and a walk-in shower." I said to him.

I could tell there was so much he wanted to say but didn't. He took another puff of his cigarette before putting it out. "Goodnight, Alice." He said to me as he got up from the chair. He scooted the chair back in the corner and grabbed his bag off the dresser. He opened the door, "Are you going to leave me locked up forever?" I asked him. He stopped in the doorway with his back to me again. I waited patiently for his response.

"Three days," he said.

"And then I die?" I asked him.

He was quiet, his shoulders tense.

"Sure," he replied before leaving the room and locking it behind him.

**

It's been three days.

I've been waiting in this room, locked up. Reading books and checking the news every once in a while. I haven't seen anything about my disappearance. It made me worry about Mom again. I hope she's doing okay. Knowing that I will most likely never see her again is killing me.

I haven't seen Minho at all. They've been sending Jeongin down to give me food and to make sure I'm still alive. I stopped eating the first day of being locked in the room. Jeongin has noticed but hasn't said anything to me. He's very quiet, much like his brother.

As I'm sitting on the bed reading a history book, I hear someone on the other side of the door. I feel my heart skip a beat. I close the book and set it beside me.

The door opens, revealing Jeongin. He's carrying a black bag. He approaches me without saying anything and places the bag on the bed. I glance down at the bag. I worried what he had inside. He unzips the bag and pulls out a black dress.

My eyes furrow in confusion as he proceeds to pull makeup and other feminine products. Brand new and still in their packaging.

"What the hell is this?" I ask him.

He meets my eyes. "Your execution had been postponed. We have company and you need to get dressed." He said. I scoffed as I looked down at the things he had placed in front of me.

"Why can't I just stay in here?" I asked him.

"Cause this is guest room, and people will be using it." He replied before heading for the door. "Why do I have to get dressed?" I asked him. He stopped at the door and turned to me again. "We'll explain everything once you've changed." He replied before closing the door.

I heard him lock the door, leaving me.

I sighed and looked at the dress that was chosen for me.

I guess I'm pushing for another day.