Solitary

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Jimin presses his back against the rough concrete wall, his breathing soon turns into desperate pants and he knows he is trapped

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Jimin presses his back against the rough concrete wall, his breathing soon turns into desperate pants and he knows he is trapped.

The cell is just a room smaller than cell 23 with a thin mattress and a toilet and sink and literary nothing else. The memories of all the times he has spent in that dark small closet are flooding into his mind, making the already small room even smaller.

His chest tightens and his breathing gets too short and too fast. He feels claustrophobic and he knows damn well that no one comes to his rescue if he hyperventilates now. He can choke on fear and no one gives a damn. How the hell is he going to survive this hole for two fucking weeks? There is absolutely nothing to do. Boredom might win if panic doesn’t succeed. Either way he’s a goner.

He curls into a ball and lets tears roll down his cheeks, trying to distract his mind by good memories. The first time Seokie Hyung taught him how to ride a bike. Their arguments on mint chocolate or Milk first VS cereal first. Or the day of his graduation from the academy, how proud Seokie Hyung was. He bought him the biggest flower basket and took him to an expensive restaurant.

He spends the first night between passing out and waking up only to find himself crying in sleep. It hasn’t been a day and he’s already losing his mind. The silence is deafening and the frustration is suffocating and he just wants to scream at top of his lungs but he knows he’ll die if they add even one more day to his punishment. Even a small sound is intolerable. The sound of water in the pipes, the shackling of the chains or the constant groaning of the rest of the prisoners in the solitary.

The cell lacks any window or clock and there is no way he can tell the time. He just lays on the cold floor and only moves when the small sliding door opens to slide the tray of his food in. But even then, he just crawls on his hands and knees, not having the strength to stand on his legs.

He spends his days mostly with closed eyes just to block the reality. It’s easier to swim in his mind. Even the most terrifying memories are better than the hellhole he is locked up in. There is no phone, no book, no game no nothing to pass the time and it’s scary. Two weeks in solitary, with nothing to do, nowhere to go.

He can’t smoke, God he can’t even feel the warmth of the sun or breath the air that isn’t from this suffocating hole or see the sky. He is going to die. He can’t survive this.

What if Kwon retracts the scholarship after his death? No nonononon it’s not his fault.

He was just trying to help Min. Min… fucking Min… That fucking backstabbing ungrateful bastard. He is so gonna kill Min. He should just kill Min. He totally deserves a slow and painful death. Maybe he can tie him up and skin him alive, then stab him 14 fucking times. One for each day he has to spend in the hole because the fucker deserves it.

He soon finds out fantasizing about how to murder Min is the best distraction and he sets wiping off that annoying smirk of his too adorable face as his goal. Yep...that’s it… that’s what he’s gonna do. But how is he supposed to pass both V and Seokjin and those two fucking dogs? He can just follow him to the bathroom, finish what the man couldn’t thanks to him.

Aren’t the criminals human too? Why they don’t have any rights? This is absolute torture. The prison isn’t a place to make them better, now he understands. This place turns them insane, cruel, angry. He is sure the person that is going to walk out that metal door will never be the same as the one who got thrown in and it scares him. He is scared of losing himself, who he is and where he has come from.

Sometimes he walks around and sings. The song Seokie Hyung used to sing for him but he can’t remember the lyrics and he really needs to get a hold of a cellphone to search for the lyric because it’s frustrating and his mind is eating itself alive and it hurts. So he kicks the concrete wall to distract himself from the pain in his head with the physical pain in his toes.

It’s maybe after the first week when the metal door opens. Fear seizes his heart because as much as he wants to escape this hell, he knows it’s too soon and it can’t mean something good. “You’ve got a visitor.” Is the only answer he gets. They walk him across the yard to the building he’s never been to.

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