He was homeless. Not just him, but more his soul. Wherever he looked, it was just dark. Not a glimmer of light could reach him. And it was cold. It was damn cold, especially around his fragile heart, which had long been broken into dozens of pieces.
He was trying to remember when was the last time he smiled. But it was hard. It was damn hard to do that when he was no longer aware of himself. Could it have been months ago? Or maybe years? He couldn't say for sure. Because the time was no longer a real factor for him. From that day ... from the day when his freedom and at the same time the joy of living was stolen from him.
He close his eyes. Immediately a tear falls involuntarily on his left cheek, and he wonders how he still has tears hidden through the empty pockets of his heart. He could swear he cried for everyone together, but he still has tears? Can he still be called a human because he cries? Because the truth is, he hasn't felt human for a while. He feels ... even worse than an animal. Probably because he was treated this way in the last time.
He doesn't even remember the last time he spoke. How his voice sound like? Is it sweet to hear? Thick? Does he sounds like a little boy when he speaks? He forgot so many things that make a person different from animals, that he came to consider himself an animal. He came to dream of what now seemed more than a luxury, or something unattainable: a warm meal, a warm shower, a normal bed. But he understood that he was doing nothing but deceiving himself more than just enough.
He was lost. And he knew that. He was stuck in his own body, in his own mind. And oh boy, in his mind was pretty dangerous. There were dark thoughts, suicidal ones. Because he came to the conclusion that the only way he could live again would be to simply die. Because in the moments when he breathes, he breathes only pain, blood, contempt and hatred. And that was much harder than anything else. And he would always embrace death, only to leave that place of endless suffering, that prey place as the true hell.
But no. It was not that simple. The darkness doesn't even let him really leave this world. He was holding him. He held him and did not give him the freedom to die. And slowly and painfully hard, life was forgotten, just as happiness was no longer a true word in his vocabulary. He was suffering every day, every second that passed. He was in great pain, and yet ... he had long since given up on complaining. Because it was useless, and he realized that.
"Number four." a thick and unfortunately damn familiar voice wakes the boy with a thin figure from his own thoughts, urging him to look at the locked door outside.
It was one of the executioners of his soul. One of those who loved to make his heart struggle with pain and tears. The solid body and the dark face with a small grin on the right corner, look at him intensely, stripping him from his eyes.
"You are next." he says after and opens the door with the key, forcing the lost boy to get out of the cold, deserted room.
And even if the little one didn't want to, even if he just wanted to sit on the cold floor praying for death, he knew he would just make the whole situation worse. So he got up from the floor, tripping over his own feet and feeling slightly dizzy, ignoring the blood on his feet and hands, and then heading for the exit.
But he knew. He knew it would be just another day in hell, in which he would kill his soul over and over again, without even having the strength to do it once and for all.
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Bro, this shit will be full with angst and some really sad-trigger scenes:( It will be really a difficult journey, and I can not recommend for those who prefer the fluff
I wait for your opinions and see ya (I hope soon) at the next chapter^^
Ily angelsss
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Broken hearts ✓ᵗᵏ
Fanfiction"It is hard. It's damn hard to live when the only thing you want is to die. " Kim Taehyung is a talented agent with an extremely strong character. He manages to overcome any obstacle and get through the most terrible missions. He manages to fin...
