PITYING THE PRISONER | p.jm

f i v e - c o r a

When I return to my quarters, I can't help but consider Jimin's words.

"You aren't a product of this place, you're a person. People can change, organizations can't. You can change."

But, if I'm not a product of The Company, then what am I? All I've ever known is this place. I was born here, raised here, trained here. The only time I spent out of this complex was for school and even then, I was put in classes taught by members of The Company. Never permitted to befriend anyone, staying after school and going home with my teachers, my superiors. The Company is in my blood, it is my blood. How can I possibly be anything other than a product of this place?

I've never really thought about it before Jimin spoke to me earlier. He made me think, made me wonder what I'm really doing here. And honestly, the fact that I'd never even considered why I'm here or what my organization stands for is scary. The fact that Jimin is the only one in all these years that's actually made me question my own loyalty to this company and its surprisingly vague motives is rather shocking, in a bad way. I mean, how have I never wondered why I'm breaking prisoners? If I ever ask, I get very ambiguous answers, nothing specific, like they're hiding something from me.

Now, I'm thinking about it. Do they not tell us because of security clearance, or because we'd defect if they told us? Why don't they tell us?

Thoughts rack my brain as I shower, brush my hair, and then attempt to sleep. My recklessly existential mind keeps me up, and I only get a couple hours of sleep.

I wake at six in the morning, do my daily morning routine, put on white jeans and a red shirt with the black leather jacket that belonged to my father, and then don the cold character that I've already grown to hate. The disguise I wear in order to keep both Jimin and myself alive, I despise it. I need it, sure, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I get some food from the cafeteria and bring it back to Block B to give to Jimin.

Looking through the one-way glass of Cell #607, I notice that Jimin too is playing a character. His head is down, but he's tapping his foot to a beat he can't hear, meaning that he's awake. His clothes are slightly wrinkled, most likely from sleeping in an odd position. This reminds me that I still have to wash his clothes, and I make a mental note to do so when I return to my quarters later. Unlocking the door, Jimin looks up a little, and his eyes light up a bit. When he sees my cold stare, his face drops. My heart drops a bit, too, seeing him this way, knowing that I have to do this to him. I sigh before crossing the room over to him, presenting him with the tray of food.

"Someone will pick it up later," I state. I give Jimin an apologetic look, and he returns it with a small smile. Handing Jimin the tray, I take the opportunity to squeeze his hand gently, speaking softly.

"I'll see you later, okay? We'll talk." Jimin nods, and I leave the room.

Getting some breakfast of my own at the cafeteria, I take a seat across from Subin.

"Hey, Cora," she greets. "How's work?"

"Fine," I say simply. "How about you?"

"Terrible, as always. If I don't get a promotion soon I don't know what I'll do with myself."

"I'm sure you'll reach the next rank soon," I assure her. "Then you won't be stuck in your living hell anymore."

"See, the funny thing is, you think you're joking." I can't help but laugh.

"Speaking of promotions, though, I heard that you're getting promoted to a field agent?"