purgatory. » bts

031

—KNJ
7:34 AM KST

"goddammit."

he didn't have much time left—maybe half an hour, give or take. and he still couldn't find the fucking key. he kept opening up compartments, but he couldn't find the damn seven keys. none of them. and he didn't know how long it would take, either—the four walls, besides for the locked door and the space behind the running clock, were literally made up of tiny compartments—it would take forever to get through all of them.

in the given two hours, he probably spent a little more than an hour—and he wasn't even done going through a whole wall worth of compartments. he was probably three-fourths of the way there.

all he had found so far were scraps of papers, each with a word written on it, and he figured it may be completed to make a riddle, or something like that—and he also found a small travel-sized bottle of water, courtesy of the unknown man.

namjoon stood on his toes, giving extra height to reach the top—his heart picked up its pace when he saw the small key laying there, on the bottom of the small drawer. he sighed in relief as he put the key inside a keyhole next to one of the small shotguns, freeing himself from the one that faced him directly. the key broke right after, which meant that he couldn't use it for any of the other guns attached to the collar.

time ticked on, and he only got more impatient, even though he found two other keys—he just wanted this off of his body. the clock read fifteen 'til eight in the morning. he could feel his body becoming slick with sweat. he really, really wanted to get out of here, unscathed—well, maybe he could offer to shed some sweat and blood, but he suddenly missed doing his homework.

"i'm sorry..." he sighed, placing a weak fist on the wall. "please...let me out..."

he could hear his breathing morph into something more erratic and ragged; namjoon did find more keys, yes, but he couldn't find the remaining two of them and it was already fifteen minutes 'til his time was up for good.

beads of sweat were gathering around his forehead and his hands, dripping off of him—he had to make it out of here alive. his movements became more frantic, opening and shutting the thousands of the tiny compartments at a fast pace—but not fast enough.

namjoon wanted to break down and give up—but he had to try, didn't he?

it seemed like time was flying right by...and he didn't like it one bit. he wanted to stop time. he wanted to make it out of here while he was still breathing. he had to see his parents. his family. his friends.

namjoon sucked in a breath, wincing as he tried to ignore the strain in his arms and legs.

his eyes kept darting towards the clock that incessantly ticked. he wanted to punch it and shatter it into pieces.

namjoon couldn't help but to smile when he found another key in a compartment conjoined to the ceiling. this was probably the most gratitude he felt towards his tall height.

"one more," he groaned as he slid the key inside, freeing himself from another gun—now he only had to deal with the last remaining one, which remained on the back of the collar, its opening facing the back of his skull. he could feel his cold sweats begin to subside—just one more, and he was out of here.

he sighed as he moved to the top half of the remaining wall with two minutes left to spare. he could do this. yes, he could. he could get out of here alive. he could finally apologize for everything he had done—

no.

he had reached what it seemed to be the last compartment on the corner of the wall that conjoined to the ceiling. where the fuck was that last remaining key?

namjoon's head spun.

he was so close. he couldn't—he possibly couldn't have—he couldn't have missed one of the thousands of compartments that made up the four walls.

"no, no, no," his legs wobbled, the cold sweat returning to coat his body. he could feel tears prickle at his eyes as he desperately opened and closed random compartments frantically.

he heard a familiar rattle—he opened the compartment, in which it revealed his final key.

"shit," namjoon hissed, inserting the key into the back of the collar, freeing the collar as a whole off of him as the last gun was discharged—and right as he took it off from around his neck, the gun went off, the bullet grazing his left ear. he let out a quiet 'fuck' before cupping the new wound—he was thankful enough that it didn't shoot through his damned head. one more second, and he would've been gone for good.

the door clicked, unlocking itself; he hurried towards it, closing the door behind him. he leaned against the table in the smaller room, grabbing his phone; he had to make a call to 911, at least. he wanted to live.

but there was no signal.

"fuck, are you kidding me?"

he scrolled down his phone, revealing new notifications that he hadn't seen before. he clicked on a text that had arrived.

unknown number :
if you're reading this,
you're safe! ...for now,
anyways.

unknown number :
you're probably wondering
who's behind all this, right?

unknown number :
i'll give you a little clue.

unknown number :
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