They say that killing is illegal.
I say sometimes it's a necessity.
I'm not a killer, I'm a judge. A judge for people, whom the law couldn't reach. I am a judge, maybe unusual but one nevertheless.
𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻.
They call me a murdere...
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🎴𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐🎴
🎴𝚅𝚘𝚝𝚎&𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝🎴
🎴𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🎴
♟️ ✦ ♟️ ✦ ♟️
"Loss doesn't dim with practice, it gains momentum."
♟️ ✦ ♟️ ✦ ♟️
[Y/N's POV]
Taehyung is motionless.
He's supposed to be talking, yelling, laughing, moving, walking, running, breathing, but he's still. Lifeless. Is he dead? He must be, he doesn't move. He's dead. He's gone.
No, no, no! First Jimin, now Taehyung. No...no. I was supposed to protect them. I failed. I failed again. I don't want to carry on this way I don't want to...I can't do it...I can't move...I can't breathe...
I feel the dreadful panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in my abdomen as the tension grows in my limbs, making my hands convulse and tremble like a rabid animal.
An invisible hand clasps over my mouth preventing me from breathing. The accelerating hurricane of thoughts inside my head pushes my mind into the creeping blackness. My numb hands fist around the thick fabric of Taehyung's hoodie as I lean my head on the unmoving chest, seeking an anchor. My breaths come in gasps, filling my lungs with icy-cold air as I feel like I'll blackout.
In moments like this, when I'm on the verge of losing my sanity, my mind divides into two parts. The one that is too lost in the depths of the void of darkness to act properly, and the one that's looking at the situation out of my body. Like a third person judging the situation with a cool mind and a steady heart.
Get yourself together! The sane part of my brain snaps at me. Deep breath in, deep breath out, Y/N.
I inhale deeply, as the familiar cologne invades my nose, working as a soothing medication for my brain. Check his pulse, you fool, what are you waiting for? The crotchety voice rings in my ears again.
I raise my quaking hand without lifting my throbbing head from his chest, feeling how the paralyzing fear pushes my consciousness into the chasm of eerie obscurity. My blood-coated, trembling fingers make contact with the cold skin of his neck, painting it red.
And when under my freezing fingers I feel the faint pumping of his vein, my heart floods with relief as my fingertip comes to the corner of my eye, dismissing the single silvery tear that's dreading to roll down. The icy numbness leaves my being, making me land back in the present again, where I vividly hear devastating sounds around me. The pulse is weak, frail, and slow but it's still there! It won't be, if you continue lying there like you've got all day, Y/N!
