Deception || PJM

•Home Sweet Home•

The air was cold and scented with chemicals; bleach, peroxides, nothing out of the ordinary. However, their scent made you hold your breath.

Better safe than sorry, you thought.

The last thing you can remember was Jimin's eyes as you were thrashing in Taehyung's arms and Jimin opening his own canister of gas. Whatever it was that he had released into your system must have been strong, from the scent of the room alone you could tell you were no longer in the cafe's back corridor and you don't remember how you got to wherever you were now.

You had decided to keep your eyes closed for now, you didn't want them to know you were awake. That's when it would start. The questions. The fight. The pain. The longer they thought you were asleep the longer you had to come up with a plan. You couldn't believe this is what it had all come to. You had ran for 6 months, been at least 15 different identities and seen more of the country than you had ever dreamed of seeing. But for what? All it got you was back with them and tied to a chair. 

The straps were leather which you appreciated, they were smooth on your wrists instead of clinical and cutting. 

But why?

This minute realisation fired a fleet of questions in your head. Did they not want to hurt you? Who put you in the chair? Was this a way to lure you in to a false sense of security? Where was Jimin? What was that beeping?

The annoying beep's origin was situated to the left of your head, the rhythm was oddly soothing.   Its stability was ironic to you as it was isolated in that trait. Nothing in your life was stable no matter what you did to change that. 

Slowly, you flickered your eyes open.

The cause of the dripping was an IV attached to your left arm, pumping god knows what into your system.

Are they trying to fatten me up before the feast, your inner monologue sarcastically questioned. I mean, it wouldn't surprise you. 

Your eyes adjusted to the clinical white light and you clenched your fists. Infront of you lay a desk with a chair on the other side waiting to be filled. Its sleek black surface was pleasing to the eye as it contrasted the rest of the room. The floor was adorned with white tiles that continued up the far wall and onto the ceiling.  Across the back wall stood a table, its adornments covered in a black silk cloth. You tried not to imagine what was lurking underneath that dark cloud. Above the table was a painting, a large oil piece of a flame surrounded by a silver ring. Well that answered one of your questions, you must be in their base. The walls on either side of you were two giant mirrors.

Great. You thought. My own personal tunnel of hell.

Although you tried not to, you quickly spied your reflection in the mirror to your right. The bags under your eyes were more than prominent and you noticed a split lip and a bruised cheek bone. You secretly hoped that the group of guys looked a lot worse. As you kept catching yourself in the mirrors uninvited, blurred memories from your time in the mirror maze came back to you and you shook your head to try and get rid of them like a human etch a sketch. 

It was then as you shook your head left and right that you noticed someone had plaited your hair. Unless you could sleep style it certainly wasn't you. Your clothes had also changed. No longer were you adorned in damp ripped skinny jeans and a wet leather jacket. Now, you wore black sports shorts and a black t-shirt with the number #1206 on the chest.

Great. Someone's seen me naked. Is this how many people they've brought back here?

You weren't stupid, you knew that they were probably watching you from the other side of one of the mirrors, maybe both mirrors? Unfortunately, you weren't left to your speculations for much longer as the sound of a door unbolting sounded from behind you.