Look At Me

Whore

Seungmin POV  ( now I've done everyone's POV at least once!)

*Trigger warning Just- Trigger warning. Sorry in advance. I had a difficult time writing this one TBH. *

I was lounging in the huge bathtub in my hotel room, my head pounding. I held a cup of tea clutching it in my hands, sipping- willing myself to forget. I had slept on the plane- fitfully, remembering painful hands griping me, choking me, hurting me, making me- . And when those visions faded and it was my hands gripping-hurting- Jisung's terrified eyes looking back at me, the betrayal painted across his face. I hated myself for that. I had never thought I was like him. Now I was, and no amount of wishing it away would change that. Tears stung my eyes as I begged the empty bathroom for forgiveness.

I put the teacup down, spilling it, but not caring. I grabbed my own hair and yanked it, screaming. More tears flooding down my face as the sting of pain licked at my skull. I deserved it. I was a fucking monster. I balled my hand into a fist, my nails creating half-moon indents on my palm that made me shiver, and I hit myself in the temple with the heel of my hand once, twice, five times- some of the frustration and self-loathing ebbing.

The pain helped calm me- released some of the pent-up anger I had brewing in my core all the time. Jisung had been right. I had unresolved trauma and I needed to deal with it. I had tried to use Minho to cure me, but even that wouldn't have fixed things. Maybe if he had decided to keep me things would be different, but deep down even I knew I was lying to myself. Did I ever even really want Minho? I mean he was gorgeous and funny, and he cared about everyone in his way, and sexy as hell- but did I ever want him as more than someone to protect me and at other times use me- like I had taught to be used?

No. I don't think I did. I saw him as an opportunity. A Dom to protect his Sub from the previous, scarier Dom. The one I couldn't escape. As if on cue, my phone pinged. I dried my hands on a towel and reached for it, knowing exactly who was texting me.

Wooj

Wooj: Hey, Pup- you at the hotel yet?

Me: don't call me that. It's not for you.

Wooj: everything is for me. Remember?

I made a face at his comment, bile rising in my throat. I hated him so fucking much.

Me: Stop. What do you want?

Wooj: Is that any way to talk to me? How'd it go- did you do it?

I swallowed a huge lump in my throat, fear clinging to my neck. I was terrified to tell him I had failed- scared of what he would do. But if I lied- the punishment would be worse.

Me: I got caught. But almost.

I tried to make it sound as if I was as invested in this fucked up game as he was.

Wooj: Caught? Aw fuck, Pup! WTF is wrong with you-are you stupid?

Wooj: I fucking knew you couldn't do it, you Goddamn loser. You dumb whore. You're only good for one thing.