Friday
"Shit. Watch where you're going!"
The girl's voice was overly angry as she looked at me with disgust. She curled her lips and swiped at her uniform with fingers that glittered with silver rings as if I'd left something nasty on her when we'd bumped into each other in the hallway.
I lowered my lids over my eyes, turned my head and kept on walking. It didn't matter what some random bitch said, didn't matter that she was now complaining loudly about me to her friends, didn't matter that the halls were packed with students heading to lunch and there were countless sets of eyes and ears to witness what would have been a simple, "Sorry about that" and a "No problem" back in Daegu. In the halls of Golden Mountain Academy, getting bumped into was akin to dishonoring someone's family.
More girls' voices were raising in anger and alarm. I pushed my feet faster, slipping around a group of guys who'd stopped to look at a cellphone screen. I had to get out of there. I couldn't handle anything else. I was a broken vase held together with a few pieces of tape, ready to shatter again at any moment.
My body was doing better. I wasn't as sick nor as weak as I'd been the last two days. I was recovering physically, but mentally I was still a mess. Memories plagued my waking moments and nightmares woke me over and over at night. I was lost, looking for some patch of solid ground to hold onto, but I couldn't find anything. Not in my empty dorm room, not in the classrooms filled with people who didn't acknowledge my existence, not in my own mind where I couldn't escape uncertainty and self-recriminations.
I made my way to the music and arts wing and walked past the classrooms. There were classes going on in a couple of them and chattering voices drifted out of the ones where students were hanging out on their lunch break. I passed them all and made my way to a little room at the end of the hall by the stairwell. A room where a handful of large instruments were stored and no one ever went. A place where I could be alone.
There were a couple of stools in the room, but stools required too much effort. I sank to the floor, letting the tile and the wall prop me up, letting my muscles relax. I was tired, but that was nothing new. I was hungry, but I'd ignore that like I always did.
I had to go to work after school, I'd already missed too many days and used up too much of my savings. It was important to get back on track, to pretend like things were normal even if I felt like I was descending into chaos. I'd just keep doing the things that I always did, acting like I always did, and eventually my mind would decide that things were okay and ease up on the hate and the pain.
I set the alarm on my phone to go off seven minutes before the end of the lunch hour and cuddled up to the wall for a nap.
"You're sleeping in here?"
I opened my eyes and stared up at Kim NamJoon. It was the sort of awakening where my eyes were open but I couldn't move or speak. I just looked at him, wondering if he was really there.
"How're your ribs? Better?" he asked, his eyes sweeping over my body.
I took in a deep breath, dragging in oxygen to wake up my brain, raising a hand to rub over my face. I finally found my tongue. "What do you want?"
"It's lunchtime," he said, his voice too cheerful. "Can I have a bite?"
"No." I said, pushing myself off the floor and pressing back into the wall. I looked towards the door, but there was no way I'd make it if he wanted to stop me. "Go find someone else. There are people everywhere."
"They aren't nearly as fun," he said with a fake little pout. "I want some more of you."
"I said no. I don't want it and it makes me sick," I said, using a firm voice, tightening my hands into fists as I spoke, feeling like a little kid trying to tell an adult what to do.
"I won't take too much this time. I'll be careful," he said, careless and unconcerned.
"No. You're going to kill me," I said, ready to try walking out the door. If he stopped me, he stopped me, but I had to try.
I was too late. He stepped forward at my words, getting right up in my face, his forearms resting against the wall on either side of my head. His voice was huskier, irritated or even a little angry. "I'm killing you? I saved you yesterday and healed your wounds. You still have to thank me."
"Stop it," I hissed, trying to press myself into the wall. "Don't do that. Don't use your seduction on me. At all."
"I'm holding back as much as I can." As I began to shake my head in protest, he dipped his head down and whispered in my ear. "Why? Do you want me to touch you?"
I should have said no. I wanted to say no, but my breath was caught in my throat and I'd begun to tremble. His lips brushed over my ear and down to my neck, his tongue licking out to taste my skin. Fear and rejection and pleasure and desire tangled up inside of me.
"I like the way you don't wear cologne." His words swirled over my skin. "You taste so good. I'll be gentle. I won't take too much. I won't cum in you. I promise."
His hands moved to hold my head in place as his lips trailed kisses up my neck, over my jawline and to my mouth. His tongue flicked out, licking teasingly at my lips. "Come on. Don't you want to have some fun?"
My body was still tense, pressed against the wall, trying to hold out, but my lips parted, letting him in. He gave a pleased little sigh, almost a laugh, and then took my mouth in a kiss that was a sudden onslaught of passion. His lips open wide, his tongue plundering, his mouth devouring me. His fingers tangled into my hair, angling my head to make it easier for him to conquer my mouth.
I can't...' I thought helplessly, but I wasn't sure of what it was that I couldn't do. I couldn't give in? No, no... I couldn't resist him.
My body suddenly relaxed. I raised my hands to his neck, sliding my fingers over his cold skin, enjoying the feel of him. I kissed him back, meeting every stroke of his tongue, matching his movements and pushing my own tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting.
By the time he raised his head, I was breathless and sweaty, hard and aching for him. He chuckled quietly and loosened my tie, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor. "I like the way your eyes glow when you want fucked," he said, his fingers working down the line of buttons on my shirt. "It makes me want to hear you moaning. Too bad we'll have to be quiet this time."
His words pricked at my brain, making me remember that I shouldn't be doing this, that I didn't want this, but his hand slid down to massage my dick through my pants, making me forget everything except how badly I wanted to get off. I pushed myself into his hand, totally shameless, begging for more with little moans and sighs.
He unfastened my pants and pulled my shaft from my underwear, stroking gently up and down, circling his thumb over the head. I pressed the back of my hand into my mouth because I could feel more moans building in me, too loud, too revealing. They'd alert people in nearby rooms that I was acting like a shameless slut. They'd let NamJoon know just how deeply his touch affected me, how much I wanted him to take everything that I had to give. But surely he could guess anyway, surely he already knew.
I melted back into the wall, all of my attention focused on NamJoon's fingers as they massaged and tugged at my dick. I could feel an orgasm building, pleasure stacking on top of pleasure, pushing me towards release. I knew the words were coming before he even spoke them. "Don't come."
He turned me around to face the wall, pulled my hips towards him and slid my pants and underwear down to expose my ass to the open air and his cool touch. A finger slipped inside of me and I closed my eyes, panting hard. I was experiencing brief moments of clarity, thoughts rising up from the real me, telling me that this was wrong, that a finger in my ass shouldn't feel this good, that it didn't belong.
But it was hard to hang on to those wisps of awareness. They were bubbles rising up from an ocean of passion, popping immediately when they hit the open air. And I was drowning in that ocean, consumed by it, no longer sure where I ended and it began.
NamJoon had three fingers in me now, stretching and filling me, targeting that special spot, mercilessly stuffing me with more pleasure that I had no way of releasing. I pushed my hand harder into my mouth, feeling my teeth cutting into my skin. It was so hard to hold back my moans, nearly impossible to cope with the feeling that my body wanted - needed - to explode' but couldn't.
His fingers slipped out of my ass and I heard the sound of him unfastening his pants. I pictured his cock, held stiff in his hand, coming towards me. Just the thought forced a moan from my mouth, tinged with a whine of anticipation and need. I felt his fingers spreading my asscheeks and the tip of his cock nudging against my asshole, pressing inside. It made my heart thrill, it was fucking fluttering in my chest. I was so excited to have NamJoon pushing inside of me, filling me up, going so deep that I could barely contain myself.
A loud moan escaped my lips and echoed around the room. I noticed and I knew it was bad, but I was beyond caring. The only thing that mattered was the way that he was moving inside of me, pushing me higher and higher into the clouds, filling my every cell with a burning joy.
He reached around and slipped two fingers into my mouth, trying to drown out the cries that I couldn't hold back. I sucked on his fingers, stroking them with my tongue, enjoying the taste of him. He gripped my hip with his free hand and began fucking me harder and faster, forcing himself deeper, so deep that it felt as if he was hitting the source of my emotions, invading my very soul. It should have felt like a violation, but I just wanted more. I wanted him to pierce right through me.
He took his fingers out of my mouth, leaving it empty and wanting. His hand went to my collar to tug my shirt and cardigan off my shoulder, baring skin. His tongue began licking in the sensitive curve where my shoulder met my neck and his hand slipped down to find my dick.
"Now."
His hand jacked me off as the waiting orgasm was finally freed, rushing from deep inside of me, splattering onto the floor, wrecking me with pleasure. My release was so intense that I barely registered NamJoon's teeth sinking into the base of my neck. Delicious warmth spread through me, the golden light filling all of the cracks and crevices that my orgasm had emptied.
Breathless and trembling, my fingers skittered across the wall, looking for something to hold onto. I was too caught up in pleasure, too lost to the wonderful feelings that NamJoon created in me, I couldn't hold myself up any longer. I was going to collapse, fall to the ground in a boneless puddle of delight.
He let go of me, pulled his dick out and gave me a little push to the side. I crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, watching in a daze as he leaned a forearm against the wall, his hand on his long cock, pumping fast until he came, shooting large globs of cum onto the wall. I watched in dull surprise as the thick liquid dripped down the wall. It was different, bright white but with tiny rainbow flecks of sparkling color like an opal. I shook my head, vaguely thinking that it was ridiculous.
NamJoon was tucking his junk back into his pants, fastening them and straightening his clothes. Combing his hair with his fingers. The usual. I was getting used to it. My muscles tensed involuntarily. I knew that reality was going to pierce like a knife in a few heartbeats.
He said, "Masegaemugusuyo (I ate well)" without even bothering to glance down at me, and left the room.
It came. The pain and the hate and the what the fuck? I just didn't understand how it could be so easy for him to turn me into something that I didn't even recognize. Why was it happening? Why wouldn't he just leave me alone? Why couldn't I just maintain a little strength and self-respect and tell him no? Really tell him no. Not tell him no and then start kissing him.
Tears were springing to my eyes and I brushed them quickly away with my sleeves. I didn't want to do this. I couldn't break down now. There was still an afternoon full of classes and an evening of work to get through. I had to force myself up, to keep moving through my day.
As if on cue the alarm on my phone went off. I'd missed my nap and been drained of more blood. The rest of the day would be harder than I'd expected. At that moment it felt as if everything would be harder than expected for a very long time.
~*~*~
"Soooooo, Jo DaBin, I heard you did it with Choi ByungWook last night," a girl's voice trilled behind me.
I frowned down at my notes and tried to block the voice out. It was eighth period and we'd been told to self-study but as usual the majority of the class was just talking and fucking around. Normally, I wouldn't have any trouble ignoring the idle chatter and commotion, but I was tired and my defenses were weak.
"I did," Cho DaBin answered. It was definitely her. She had a very high-pitched voice and a Busan accent.
"How did you manage it?" another voice asked. "I heard he prefers older women and never does it with students."
"We're working on this project together for the broadcasting club. The other members of our group left and it was just the two of us working on our part. We were alone and he said he was hungry and one thing led to another..." DaBin explained with a giggly sort of pride.
My ears perked up. I couldn't help it. I'd spent all of my freshman and sophomore years ignoring these conversations. The cackling and the squealing and the bragging about being fucked and fed on by a vampire. But now it was different. Now I wanted...to learn something? To figure out if my experience was normal?
Except I knew that it wasn't. These girls and even the guys in class would eagerly let a vampire fuck and feed. It was a way to get attention from the school celebrities and to gain status among the other students. It was talked about like students talked about getting drunk or high, a fun way to party, only they didn't have to bother lowering their voices so that adults wouldn't overhear them. Feeding the vampires and keeping them happy was completely acceptable.
I was the oddball. The weird one who just couldn't accept it and move on. I was beating myself up with guilt and shame for something that everyone else would consider a stroke of luck or a win.
"He was really good," DaBin was continuing to share the details of her hookup. "I mean, it's always different with a pure blood instead of a mixed blood, but he was like...so forceful. He knew exactly what he wanted and he just took it. It was super hot."
My stomach turned. It felt as if those girls and I were looking at the same painting and seeing an entirely different picture. They were thrilled and I was horrified.
"I kinda prefer diluted mixed bloods," another voice chimes in. "It's great to be all overwhelmed, but it's also nice to be a little more aware or something."
"I dated this mixed blood in middle school and he was only an eighth vampire. His power was really diluted. It was just like a buzz from half a beer or something. And it hurt like fuck when he fed on me and the wounds didn't heal right. See this scar?"
"Jesus. You can't get plastic surgery or something to fix that?"
"My fuckhead father said that 'we'll see what your ranking is when you graduate' ."
"Kim NamJoon left scars on one of my tits. One of his buddies came while he was feeding and he just stopped and went off to play basketball or something."
"Kim NamJoon? But he's so nice," this girl's voice was dreamy and a little embarrassed. "He did me freshman year. He said that my nipples were really pretty."
"Stupid. He says that sort of thing to everyone. It's part of his procedure. He likes how it makes your blood taste when he compliments you."
"That's Kim NamJoon for sure. Compliment, compliment, fuck, ditch ."
The girls laughed and I wanted to slam my head into my desk. It wasn't that I'd been taking any of NamJoon's compliments to heart. Well, not exactly, they had done some sort of repair work on my psyche that I had still not gotten used to. But for some reason it was painful to hear that my experience was just like the slutty girls in my class. I didn't think I was special to Kim NamJoon and I certainly didn't want to be special to him, but I didn't want to be on the same level as everyone else either.
It didn't make any sense. I couldn't wrap my mind around it and make it comprehensible. It made my stomach hurt. It made me feel like spitting. I just wanted it all to end. I wanted it to be over. I never wanted to think about it again. I didn't want to have anything in common with the gossiping girls in my class and I didn't want to even hear Kim NamJoon's name ever again.
~*~*~
"Min YoonGi. Hey, you don't look so good. Are you still feeling sick?"
My manager, Park ChanHee, was shelving books when I walked into the bookstore. She put down the box she was holding and walked over to greet me with concern in her eyes.
I sighed wearily. I was not in the mood for a conversation. "Yeah."
"Did you go to the doctor?" she asked. "Is it the flu?"
"Something like that," I answered, my walls going up, draining me of more energy that I really couldn't spare.
"Maybe you should have taken another day off..." she said, frowning.
"I can't," I said firmly, trying to put an end to the conversation. "I already missed too many days."
She nodded, her eyes running over me as if she could find more clues to the state of my health. "I'll give you easy work today. There's that big box of invoices that need to be sorted and filed in the back and a countertop display that I saved for you to set up. How does that sound?"
"That sounds good. Thanks," I said, forcing a smile to my lips. ChanHee was a mother hen, always trying to care for me, and I was my usual self, putting up walls and pushing people away. I shut people out, even the few who were nice to me and tried to get closer. I never let anyone in so that they wouldn't see how fucked up I was. I guarded my solitude, told myself that it made me stronger even though I knew that it was built on weakness.
Now that I was weak and totally wrecked and instinctively craving someone to lean on, someone to advise me, someone to comfort me, there was no one to fill the empty space. Park ChanHee was the only one in Seoul who had even tried to be friendly with me, but I'd already taught her time and time again that if she pushed forward even the slightest bit, I would bite.
Relationships needed to be built in fair weather so that they could withstand a storm. I could see that now, but the knowledge was meaningless. There was nothing to help me now and I knew myself well enough to know that I wouldn't be reaching out to people once I felt better. I'd remain alone, caught up in my own struggle, just like always.
"I made lemon bars," ChanHee offered hesitantly. "I'm not sure if you feel well enough to eat anything but they're in the breakroom. And... I know your pay won't be what it normally is because you missed a couple of days. If you need any help, I'd be happy to...help."
I was already shaking my head, averting my eyes. "I'd like a lemon bar, thanks, but I don't need any help. I have some money saved."
She nodded, looking miserable. She'd made it clear more than once that she thought the owner of the bookstore was a terrible person because he paid me such a low wage. Legally, he could get away with it since I was hired through a work study program, but there wasn't anything stopping him from paying me more. It was generous of her, but there was no way I'd take her up on the offer of a loan. I'd eat through my entire savings, sell my belongings and stop eating to avoid any kind of a debt.
~*~*~
I stopped on the way back to my dorm room after work, a bag of leftover lemon bars hanging from my hand, staring into the small park that I passed when I walked to and from work. I'd stopped a hundred times on the way back to the dorm and sat on a bench in the park, playing with rhymes, humming bars, and tapping beats out on benches or pieces of playground equipment.
Standing on the sidewalk, I was full and I was utterly empty. Full of negative emotions, anger and fear and hate and guilt and doubt and confusion. The list seemed to go on forever. When I chased one demon away, another reared its vicious head. As if I could not be left alone. As if I could not be granted peace. Pain chased its way through me night and day, bigger and sharper than I'd ever known it to be, relentless. All that I could do was hold my breath, close my eyes, hug myself into a ball and take it, pray for it to do its work and leave. But it couldn't go if I just kept fucking up and adding more fuel to the fire.
I was so full, but so painfully empty. My heart was a wasteland, my mind blank, my muscles limp. I had no words. No rhymes. No beats. No music. They were the only things that were important to me besides my family and they had abandoned me. I couldn't find them. They were so much a part of me that I was afraid that Kim NamJoon had truly killed me. Destroyed my soul and left me an empty shell, a wraith, destined to walk through life half alive.
I'd been struggling to figure out who I was. Trying to find myself, to know myself. But even with all of those years of turmoil, I'd never doubted that a large part of me was music. It was beat and rhythm and rhyme and now those things had deserted me.
Left me for dead.
Taken all hope with them.