My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 35: Reports

YOONGI

I'm too late. 

Jungkook appears before us, frozen with wide eyes.

My face screws up, the truth excruciating as it gores its way through the center of my chest.  It's over.  The lies.  The deceit.  It's all over. 

My heart cracks in my chest, agony ripping through as a spotlight is placed on both of us. 

The officers are following on foot, along with the other kids I recognize from the library.  Professor Daegi is behind them, and so is Namjoon.  A small crowd draws around both me and Jimin, with Taehyung coming up next to Jungkook and looking back and forth between us. 

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, slowly standing, focusing my eyes on the people watching me. 

"Yoongi. . . " Namjoon says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Jin catches up with him, and I watch his face drop, a heartbroken look entering his eyes.  "Oh, no."

My throat burns and my soul is shattered, my eyes brimming with so much tears I can barely see. 

Fast movement.  Officer uniforms.  Then I'm pulled away, Jimin being dragged off the grass.  There's an ambulance.  Medical attention.  Yes.  He needs help.

Time passes.  An hour.  A year.  A minute.  A century. 

A hand grabs my arm.  A male voice speaks sharply. An officer.  "Professor Min.  Professor.  Put the scissors down."

~

I come back to earth fast when the nurses at the hospital start cleaning my bloody hands with cold water.  Even with it being someone else's blood, I can't look for too long.  They patch up any cuts I sliced on my own skin and dab ointment on some of the darker bruises.  Honestly, I don't remember half of them existing before now.

When I hiss from the sting of the open wound, the nurse gives a sad smile.  "Sorry.  Stay still."  She keeps applying the ointment.  "You did a great thing out there.  I heard the deputies talking about it."

I raise my eyebrows.  "What did they say?"

The nurse keeps her focus on my cuts.  "That you were a hero for risking your life for a student." She glances up at me then, eyes alight with curiosity.  "So did you actually use scissors to stab the guy?  That's pretty creative."

I swallow the bile that raises in my throat and offer her a small smile.  I should feel terrible for stabbing someone, and I do, but that asshole had it coming.  He should have known that someone like me would have come to help.  He should be grateful that it was me with a pair of scissors and not an officer with a gun. 

Though I wish I did have a bullet to shoot through his head for cutting Jimin.

But not today.  Today has been bad enough.  I want to sleep for a year.  I want to wake up with Jimin lying next to me on my bed.  And I really, really, want to see him.

"Is the student here now?  Park Jimin?"  I ask.

"He's getting treated now," she says, and I hate how well I can read people.  Her voice is low, but has an optimistic edge.  Jimin.  Jimin is hurt, and she doesn't know how bad it is, or how bad it could turn out to be. 

When she leaves and I'm alone, I sit up, my entire vision tunnels like there's no light in the world, and I'm trying to breathe, trying to steel myself to hear it as a statement: Park Jimin is not stable.  Oh, my Jimin.  What are they doing to you?