Caught (Sangwoo x Reader)

1: The Recurring Nightmare

"GO GO GO!" You heard screaming from upstairs as you huddled in the corner of the dark, dank basement.

Quivering in the corner, you didn't want to get your hopes up. There had been many times you thought you might get rescued, so many times that you thought you might get to see the upstairs even, that you couldn't afford to even hope anymore. One more heartbreak and you were afraid your heart might simply stop beating.

But then, the basement door burst open.

Burying your head in your legs at the bright light, protecting your eyes.

"Hello!? Is anyone down here!? Come out with your hands up!" A strong, masculine voice commanded.

You began panicking. You desperately wanted to, but your left ankle was broken, your shoulders were both dislocated, your ribs had to be broken and your head was constantly pounding with pain. You would have loved to come out with your hands up. But you physically, couldn't.

"I can't!" Your scratchy voice tried to call out. "Broken arms and legs..."

"Stay put. We will come to you. Do not make any sudden moves. Spread your fingers wide."

You did as you were told and before you knew it, you were being swept up in strong arms of a police officer.

"Oh, God..." You heard him mumbled. "A monster... He really was a monster..."

You just hid your face as the blinding light came closer and closer .

"YN! YN!" You heard Sangwoo's voice, "I love you! Don't let them deceive you! I was protecting you! It's awful out there!"

"Shut up!" Another voice rang out. "You're under arrest! Anything you say..."

"It's okay... we've got you now, YN... Is that your name; YN?"

"Yes... Yes it is..."

You woke up in a sweat. You wished it wasn't your name at this point. YN LN was having a terrible time in life since being rescued.

The trial had long been over and although it had been hard, the hardest part was, in fact, still underway.

You had a job as a veterinary technician, but just barely. Your old friends would try and hang out with you, but it wasn't the same. You had an awful apartment, awful social skills and an awful life.

At least you did have, however, one shining light.

"Dr. Park..." You called your therapist on her office phone. "I had that same dream again. Of my rescue."

"Hmm. I'm surprised. It's been a year almost. You need to go out today. I know its your morning off, but go do something that gets your mind off of the dream. You know what happens when you dwell on it. You get dark." She reminded you.

"I can't get my mind off of it, ever." You mumbled.

You heard a sigh from the other end of the line.

"I was thinking about this for you and whether it would be triggering or not, but what about if you wrote a letter to your captor? Just to try and get all your feelings out and then throw it away? I was wondering if your dreams were a result of you bottling everything up. You tell me about it, but there's still a lot that you just might want to tell him and him alone. Why don't you give that a try? Alright? I have another client. Call if you have an emergency. Good bye."

You sat up in your bed. Write him a letter? What good would that do?

But would it harm you either?