The cure (BTS +Got7)

The Memories

2am, I lie awake his arms around me, preserving my heat. Nothing happened we just fell asleep, he dried my tears and held my sobs. The kiss forgotten yet still fresh upon my lips, the memory seared into my brain. A perfect moment full of hope, joy, and perfection.

Although this moment seemed to have lasted forever, I was left cold when it ended. My thoughts rushed back, but when everything is gone, when all of the thoughts have destroyed my dreams, hope remains. Mark's kiss gave me hope. I knew what I had to do, I had made my decision. I'd complete the mission, expose the itch, and save Mark.

I slipped silently from Mark's  embrace and smiled softly at his peaceful form. His mouth was set in a slight smile and his had rested under his cheek. He was calm, no stress, only peace. I looked at the table next to him, there wrapped in brown paper sat the drug. The poison I had given him only an hour ago.

This was the only flaw in my decision, If I got caught, if anyone found out that I was intending on disrupting Jackson's main source of income, and security. Mark would be left alone, and my hope would lose hope. But it had to end, I had to stop this addiction before it destroyed those I hold close to my heart.

I left the room, closed the door and didn't look back, it was a chance I had to take, a risk. Walking down the dark deserted hallway had never bothered me before, but it seemed eerie, too quiet. A sense of uneasiness formed in the pit of my stomach as I continued through the familiar darkness. Eyes, it seemed as if a hundred pairs of dark, dead eyes were watching my every move. Waiting. Stalking. I was their prey.

I couldn't give up, it took all of my will just to breath, I couldn't think, I couldn't comprehend. The hallway finally ended with the familiar door of Jackson's office. The home of the information, I picked the lock easily and opened it slowly. The cry of the hinges pierced my ears, I paused. No response, the house still slept.

Closing the door carefully behind me I made my way into the office. A desk, chair, lamp and sofa were all that furnished the small room. The walls were plain, water stains covered most of the pealing paint. A series of haphazard shelves lined the warn walls.

My pulse raced as it always had when I did something wrong, I was used to crime. It's what my job was, when Jackson needed something, I'd get it. No questions only results. His jobs went against most people's ideologies, pain gave answers. Punishment fixed previous problems, and the quickest way to steal from a man was to take his heart first.

The silence was almost palpable, heavy. My footsteps sounded like thunder, my breathing like the whining  winds of a prairie. I approached the desk, it was small and untidy, clutter covering most of the polished wooden surface. A computer sat among the clutter, its screen lit with a picture of Jessica.

Her eyes are clear and youthful, her smile bright. It was taken before the itch, before her life was overwhelmed by an addiction, a need for joy. She was so beautiful, she used to be the one who cared for me. Every time the drug overwhelmed my thoughts, every time I fell apart she picked up the pieces. She was the one who made me smile, she watched the itch slowly destroy all that was human within my heart. She watched is obliterate me, yet she still took it, she still wanted it.

I closed  the laptop with force hiding my memories and started to search the desk. Hundreds of papers, documents, and statements but none that explained anything regarding the drug, I sighed as I opened the first drawer. Inside I found a photograph, a small Polaroid, Jackson and Mark standing by a lake, smiles lit up their faces. Joy. Forgotten joy.

I continued to search the drawer, finding nothing but more forgotten memories, Jackson as a kid, Mark always by his side. JB and Bambam enjoying the small moments of life. Yugyeom, Youngjae, and Jinyoung fighting over something small, something worthless but priceless at that moment. The small things that build us, the memories that are consumed by sorrow.

The next drawer was locked. Bingo. I searched the desk for a key but failed and sighed as I pulled two bobby pins from my hair which cascaded down my back. The lock was easily picked and my access granted. Inside sat a gun, a revolver held but never used. Inside it carried one bullet, under the gun there sat an envelope, an envelope addressed to me in Jackson's handwriting.

This gun is his escape, his way out. If Jessica dies so does he, he'll use this gun to end it. I fell the floor with the gun in my hands, it felt heavy, much heavier than its actual weight. Jackson, he never seemed the type, the type to just give up. Me why was the letter addressed to me, not Mark, not Jessica, me. I'm nothing, a slave held by the chains of this drug.

The revolver seemed to drain the warmth from my hands, it's use, its purpose. No! I returned the gun to its place and continued to search, finally. A thick Manila envelope covered in messy writing caught my eye. Inside their was a formula, numbers, calculations none of which made sense to me. Namjoon would understand, I locked the drawer and hid the folder under my shirt cradling it gently. Success, I opened the computer and rearranged the papers to resemble their original positions.

Escape, all I had to do was get back to my room and send pictures of this to Namjoon. My steps were silent as I left the office and wandered down the hall, silence. The house was still too silent, I locked myself in my room and emptied the contents of the envelope onto my desk.

Paper, dozens of tests, formulae, procedures, I took out my phone and started with page one. Namjoon didn't respond but I hadn't expected him to.

Still so silent, page 12.

Footsteps, page 14.

Knocking, page 15.

More knocking, page 16.

A bang as the door flung back leaving a hole in the drywall. "So, I guess my suspicions were wright!" Came a voice I had trusted, he told me his story. I thought he cared. His voice was harsh as he swatted the phone from my hand causing it to shatter against the wall. No chance I can call for backup. I'm alone.