Playing with Fire: A BLACKPINK Story

Chapter 3: Secrets

2018.

As much as I had wanted to get a good night's sleep, it apparently was not destined to be. I woke up in the very early morning, before the sun had come up, with an excruciating pain radiating from my ribs outward. No doubt it was from the beating I had taken, but knowing the cause of the pain didn't make me feel any better. To make matters worse, the gunshot wound was burning, which wasn't a bad thing—it meant it was healing—it just wasn't the kind of condition that was going to allow me to nod back off.

I staggered out of bed and into the bathroom, almost afraid to remove the bandages and examine the bruising. My breath hitched as the white cloth bandages came off and revealed the livid, ugly, purple bruise beneath. It was massive, far bigger than I had expected. The pain no longer surprised me. It seemed about right for something of this size.

After rebinding my side, I realized that there was no way I was going to be getting back to sleep. It didn't bother me too much—I was used to years of running on fumes, so all things considered, this wouldn't be the least sleep I had ever gotten in a night.

I left the bathroom and dressed, a simple white t-shirt and pants that were fitted to allow me a full range of movement. I headed out into the common living area, my book tucked under my arm. If I couldn't sleep, I could at least read.

But when I made it out to the living area, I heard something that surprised me. I had expected the other occupants of the house to be asleep. Maybe that was my mistake, given what they had all just gone through. Sometimes I needed to remind myself that not everyone was as capable at dealing with trauma as I was.

The lights were off, so it took me a second to make out what was happening. Everything became clear to me quickly. Jennie was sitting on the couch, curled up, hugging her knees. And she was crying softly, her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her tears so as to not wake the entire house. As far as I could tell, she had no idea that I was even there. I hesitated, not knowing if I should approach or just let her be.

No one should have to be alone when they feel like that.

The voice in my head felt like it belonged to someone else. It wasn't my job to comfort my clients. Just to protect them. But then again, if they were traumatized, it would be much harder to keep them safe. Right?

That was what I told myself as I gently approached the couch and sat on the other side of it without saying anything.

Jennie wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and looked thoroughly embarrassed. I didn't say anything. For one, I wasn't sure what to say. And it didn't seem like there was much that I could say anyway.

"Sorry," she said with a sniffle. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No," I said. "Don't worry."

I didn't ask if she was okay. That seemed like a stupid thing to ask, given the circumstances. "What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly, putting on a smile that lifted her cheeks.

"Yeah, I don't know you that well. But I think I know you enough to say that Jennie doesn't cry over nothing. Was it the sounds? The gunshots? The punches?"

She looked at me with wide eyes and I could see that her lower lip was trembling. I remembered my first time in a live-fire scenario. I had reacted much the same way. And that was after I had been trained for it.

"I keep seeing you," she whispered, and I could tell from the sound of her voice that she was fighting back her tears again. "Underneath him. But this time, you don't get him off you. He just keeps hitting you, over and over, until you're..." Her voice trailed off and I let the silence linger. Meaningless words wouldn't help. Sometimes silence was just as powerful. "That's stupid, right? I don't even know you." She was looking at me as if she wanted me to validate her and to tell her that she was wrong.