Dark Matter | JJK

53. Sounds of the City

Outside Seoul National University Hospital, Park Jimin hit an Aenigmuus charging towards him with the butt of his rifle before shooting a tranquilizer dart into its back. Only one or two creatures occasionally escaped the barricade the police force had formed around the hospital, and those who did were easily handled by the forces on guard.

Reassured by the fact that there were enough men to tackle the situation should it escalate, Jimin walked in through the glass doors of the hospital. There was a nasty gash across his right arm that was oozing blood into his leather padding, making it heavy. Inside the building, he kept his head bent low as he walked between beds on which lay maimed soldiers getting their wounds treated, others with severe injuries being rolled into operating theatres. A line of orange triaged civilians sat crouched against the wall, and the Inspector tried not to meet their accusatory stares as he stopped before an open sink and removed his arm padding.

Because sometimes, Jimin hated his profession.

He hated the power he had. Hated how people thought of him as omniscient, someone who knew everything when clearly, he didn't. Hated how everyone looked at him like he was a God, as though he had the ability to save everyone. After rescue operations he returned from, fatigued to death with wounds littering nearly every inch of his skin, he felt helpless when people begged him to save their loved ones even though they knew it was far too late. Some thought he had it in him to be able to. Some thought he didn't.

There were too many enemies and not enough tranquiliser darts. What would he do? Fire on these creatures that would've been just as human as he was had it not been for their obliterated memories? How could he choose which lives to save and which to forfeit for whatever greater good those in power above him promised?

He felt like a failure.

Why was he even here? Policemen learned how to save people from death, so why couldn't he?

Why?

Jimin washed the blood from his arm after his tucking his rifle in his belt loop, and then went on to his grimy, soot-covered hands. He focused on the soapiness, making sure to properly clean them with the lather, inhaling deeply as the moment of peace in this chaos took over. He thought he heard Hoseok's voice from outside an operating room only for it to dissipate into the noise. He knew that upon turning around, taking in faces of the wounded and the people who still needed his help, he would have a panic attack.

So he didn't turn around.

As he dried his hands with a paper towel, Park Jimin reminded himself of the reasons why he became a police officer. Why he was not walking out of those doors to the safety of the Hajibon Hobbit, where no harm would come to him.

Dumping the paper towel into the bin, he fished out his phone to call his parents and despite it being past midnight, he didn't care a dime if he woke them up. He should've done this earlier.

He listened to the line ring before a woman's voice took over, roughly whispering in the receiver.

"Jimin, is that you?" his mother asked, confused but elated at the surprised phone call. "My son, are you okay?"

"It's me. Just calling to let you know that I'm safe."

She laughed on the phone - a sound that made him smile. "I'm so relieved, Jimin-ah. Your father and I were having trouble sleeping, we were so worried. Thank you for calling, sweetie. What about the other boys?"

"The guys are all across the city. I'm anticipating the moment when I'll finally have to raise my gun at Yoongi hyung. I don't think he'll hold it against me though, when he won't even remember who I am." He smiled the slightest bit, anxiety gripping his heart so profusely he thought it would drown him. "And as for Jungkook...I don't know."