PITYING THE PRISONER | p.jm

t h r e e - c o r a

"Wow, dramatic much?" I joke.

"You spend a day on guard duty and tell me if I'm being dramatic or not."

"No thanks."

We make idle chat through the rest of breakfast and then go our separate ways. I return to my quarters and take a short nap before practicing a few more pieces on my keyboard. I practice Ring Ding Dong by SHINee and Overdose by EXO, and all the while I can't help but wonder what group 402 is in. Could it be EXO or SHINee? Maybe TVXQ? Another group I don't know about? This idol prisoner is so intriguing.

At 11:40 I leave my quarters and get to Block B at 11:55. I look inside Cell #607 and examine my idol client. He seems to be about my age, and he's wearing a white sweater with black pants and black Vans. His hair is brown and his head is down so I can't really see his face. I just sort of watch him for a minute or so, until, much to my surprise, he looks up. Though he can't see through the glass, he looks me right in the eyes. And in an ever more confusing gesture, he smiles.

Why is he smiling? I ask myself. Can he see me? What's wrong with this guy?

I'm genuinely taken aback by this boy's actions. He shouldn't even know I'm here, let alone smile at me. Something about him has me all shook up. I feel my composure crumbling. What's wrong with me?

I turn away from the window and take a few deep breaths, calming myself down. Once I'm feeling normal again, I open up the door.

His head lifts and his eyes lock on me as I step into the room. I finally take in the boy's face. He's cute, that's for sure. He has a smooth complexion and strangely pretty eyes. I can't help but wonder if all idols look like this.

"What's your name, kid?" I ask sharply, forgetting 402's appearance and focusing on my goal.

"Whatever you plan on changing it to," he says. Once again, he catches me off-guard. It's sort of a resigned sass, an "I-don't-care-what-happens-to-me" kind of sass. In a way, his words make it seem like he's already broken.

"Well, then," I begin, not showing the shock that he caused. "Your name is now 402. Got that?"

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

"402."

"Good," I say. But why do I feel like that's bad?

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes." His short responses, his quick surrenders, that's the way of a broken man, and yet something about him is fighting me. He looks me directly in the eyes as he speaks, and broken men do not do that. A broken man would know not to have sassed me at the door as he had, and yet it seems like he's broken. So, if he's already broken, how am I supposed to break him?

"What did you eat?" I ask, hoping to try and understand him a bit more.

"Soup and rice," he says quickly. "It was very good."

I glance at my watch. It's only 12:10, as I came in a bit late. I have to spend twenty more minutes with this guy who's knocking me off my feet at every opportunity. Am I actually going to be able to do this?

"Do you want to know why you're here?" I ask him, moving close, just out of range of the chain that holds him to the wall and sitting on the ground across from him.

"Yes, but I assume you won't tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Because you don't know. You just work here, you don't actually know your boss' motives, right? No one actually tells you why you do what you do so you won't question your allegiance to them. I'm sure you think you're doing good by kidnapping me."