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"There's no one here to hear your screams."
Jimin glided the tip of his finger over the silver blade ever so tenderly. He leaned backwards on the flimsy wooden chair, prompting a sharp screech, and uncrossed his legs. In the process of doing so, his right foot accidentally kicked one of the empty bottles scattered on the floor.
Furrowing his brows, he glanced down with blurry eyes. Upon seeing there was a small ounce of the golden liquid left at the bottom at the bottle, he reached down and lifted it to his lips thirstily.
"Jus'- jus' let me go, man!" someone desperately begged from across the room, causing Jimin's darkened gaze to snap at them. "I don't know 'bout no damn witch!"
Flinching at the man's unpleasant strident voice, Jimin leaned forward and rested his elbows on top of his knees. His head hung low over his chest and his lungs collapsed in a long, heavy sigh.
"Have you ever been in hell?" he grumbled quietly.
An audible 'huh?' escaped the captive's mouth. That, along with the heavy labored breathing of his chest. He writhed in his chair, his limbs bound and immobilized.
Ignoring his bullshit answer, Jimin examined the label of the whiskey bottle sightlessly, picking at it with his thumb. His eyes sunken and hollow, dark bags hugged his once lively caramel orbs. Deep shadows protruded under his cheek bones due to the abrupt weight loss he had endured.
Even despite that, the strength in his muscles persevered. The man across the room knew that better than anyone right now and the bruises covering his whole body were the physical proof of it.
"Dude, I don't know what your problem with me is," the man rasped, voice breathy and gruff. He was rather young, perhaps in his early thirties. "And I don't know how you found me, but I can't- I can't help you!"
Jimin mustered the tiny portion of patience he had left not to snap his neck. He let the now empty bottle fall to the ground where it landed with a dull thud.
"You're a University professor." Jimin stated flatly, hoisting himself up from the chair.
Quivering in fear, the young man gave a grave gulp once Jimin stood up. Pure terror was written all over his pale face as his tongue poked out every two second to glide over his dry lips.
"You teach Occult Studies," Jimin went on, unbothered by the horrified grimace painted over the other man's face. "You specialize in Experimental Psychology. For over ten years, you've observed and studied people with paranormal abilities. So-called witches and warlocks. They do exist, don't they?" he towered before his captive as his arm swung toward his bare neck, fingers tightly clutched around the handle of the dagger.
"I- I can't, I mean-" the man's voice distorted to unintelligible hisses and groans as the blade pressed against his neck.
"Tell me!" Jimin thundered, wild eyes bulging next to the man's face.
