namjoon

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ok um IdiotPaws2908 thank you for making me laugh with your hilarious comments. ilysm

In your nightmares, you are trapped in a mental ward.

You can't move your hands without feeling the restriction of the straps. Your head is clear, no trace of the "madness." You strain against the black polyester with every ounce of strength and still, you can't budge. Your back hurts right from the base of your spine to the tail bone. Saliva is pooling in the back of your mouth.

The staff have gone.

You are alone.

Heart pounding, ready to explode, your eyes scan left and right for signs of someone coming to help.

No-one.

Worn green curtains hang limp on flaking chrome rings and though the gap, passers by pay you no attention at all.

You are back in your personal hell. A cheap analogue clock ticks loudly on a nearby wall, each second marked. You need to turn, you need to swallow and mindless squirming won't help - so you think of watching the show "24," what would Jack Bauer do?

You turn in the thumb of your right hand, fold it in as flat as possible and pull, not caring if it dislocates. Your hand comes right out. Then you do the same with the left. Even with two hands free, it isn't enough, you can't turn. If you sit up, you may be caught and re-tied too tight for this little trick to work a second time. You point your right foot so hard the muscles become painful and you twist it until it is free, but your left is bound too tight. You twist, some relief for your back and easier to swallow.

A nurse comes and says "Oh, I see they untied you." You agree and manage a staged smile, she unstraps your last leg and your turn to your side. You're sure Bauer would be out of here by now, armed and dangerous, but not you. You're a pacifist, scared of the "professional care" that leaves you scarred on the inside. The bleach tinctured ward fades and the nightmare intensifies to the next level.

No longer is the door open, no bright light comes from the hallway. No handle, no way out. Four concrete walls, a linoleum floor, a toilet with no paper and a bare mattress - this "seclusion room" is a prison cell by another name.

You always end up here at the end; a room with no escape. It's here that you learn an unsettling truth that leaves you crying until the sun blesses you with its light. You brace yourself for the worse as the screeches begin.

"Kim Namjoon is gone," the voice screams, sending waves of shudders through you.

Immediately you think of your dimpled boyfriend, screaming into the darkness as horrible images of him dying fill the room.

An ominous boom startles you out of your abysmal nightmare. Your cheeks are wet and your body is bathed in a cold sweat. The sheets are twisted around your limbs, probably because you were thrashing in your sleep. Your heart pounds against your chest.

You tremble.

The room is entirely dark. No light anywhere. The remnants of your nightmare still cling to your mind, haunting you. You have no trouble imagining assassins lurking in the murky darkness of your room. Another flash of lightning illuminates the room in blinding light. You let out a frightened cry and bury your face into your pillow. Even your breaths tremble. You swallow and once again turn to see the endless darkness of you room.

You can't see anything.

A hand grabs yours from under lump of sheets, the body next to you slowly arising. Without thinking twice, you crawl towards it, wrapping your arms around it's neck and legs around its waist.

"Oh, baby. Another one, huh?"

You shakily nod, thankful for Namjoon and his ability to put up with you. He kisses your shoulder and lowers himself back onto the bed, rolling you to the side.

"I'm right here, ok? Nothing is going to happen to you or me."

You nod, his words like a blanket over your cold fear. It warms you up in an instant and leaves you smiling. You fall asleep soon after, his hand carding through your locks ridding your mind of the horrors you encountered before.

    𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐍Where stories live. Discover now