In The Dark

x10x

    We sat on the bed together, neither of us looking at the other. We'd been sitting without a sound for what felt like an eternity, before Jungkook finally broke the uncomfortable silence.
    “Y’know Suga, I see potential in you. You could really become something great.”
    His words took me completely by surprise. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Even if he was a maniacal serial killer, whom had taken me hostage and threatened to kill me on numerous occasions, a compliment is a compliment, right? 

    He continued to talk about all the ‘great things’ he's done, the obstacles he’d faced, and the causes he worked for.  I hadn't particularly been paying attention to any of it though. I had been running that last sentence over in my mind again and again.
What kind of potential did he see in me?  Why was he the only one?
   
He finally caught my attention a while later, when an even stranger phrase left his lips.

“We're not so
different, you and I.”

The words chilled me to the bone. There's no way I'm anything like this psychopath! He hit me over the head with a guitar in the middle of the street!
  Before I even knew how to react I was laughing in his face.
“I'm nothing like you! I'm not crazy. I don't hurt people for fun.” I fired back.

My denial of our ‘similarities’ only angered him further than my laughing had. He stood up from the bed and made his way over to the table of tools he hadn't touched in weeks.
“I don't have to let you live. I'm doing that out of the kindness of my heart,and you mock me.  I should teach you a lesson, you little brat.” 

From the table he chose what appeared to be a stun gun, before making his way back over to me. I knew by now that there was no point in arguing with him. When he got angry  the only outcome would be him hurting me more than i assume he'd originally intended. Instead I decided to appeal to his softer side. 
“Kookie, c'mon you're letting me live because I'm your friend. You want me around.”
He placed the taser at the base of my neck and fired sending a jolt of electricity through my spine, then released it almost immediately. 

“I'm not crazy, you punk,
tell me I'm not crazy.”

He spat these words at me, brandishing his weapon.

Before I could respond he moved the prongs of the stun gun down about 10 centimetres lower and sent another jolt of electricity through my body.
He repeated the same phrase and action, with a desperation creeping into his voice, until I was lying face down on the mattress struggling to breathe using my fried and jolted body.
Between gasps for air I managed to choke out, “You... Aren't crazy...  Kookie... I'm sorry.”
He tossed aside the weapon as the words left my lips. From behind me he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up so I was facing him.
“And don't you dare forget that” he spat.
He released my hair, and my head flung forward hitting the edge bed. The last thing I remember before I passed out from exhaustion was the slam of the door and the familiar locking sound, as his feet echoed further through the hallway.