FEAR | stray kids

I - born of the night

Jisung didn't really remember what happened.

It was late at night, he had just finished dance practice, and all he wanted to do was collapse on the floor. The other members had left earlier, but he had stayed behind to do some extra practice.

He had dragged his aching limbs out of the studio, vaguely aware of a voice in the back of his mind telling him something was wrong. He ignored it, thinking of the warmth of his bed that was waiting for him back at the dorm.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see an array of texts on the group chat. The members were complaining that their dinner was getting cold whilst they waited for him. He scoffed, typing a quick reply saying that he'd be there soon.

Just as he was about to hit the send button, something slammed into him from the side, knocking him into the middle of the road. He let out a groan, the back of his head throbbing intensely.

His eyes were clouded by tears but he could make out a figure bending over him. He felt their breath on his neck, his heartbeat was thundering in his ears.

A sharp pain blossomed in his neck, and he let out a whimper. The pain dulled to an ache, and he felt his body becoming more and more weak. He was only on the edge of consciousness at this point, he struggled to stay awake.

Through his hazy vision, he saw blood painting the concrete red. He felt an awful urge to throw up when he realised it was his blood. He was bleeding, very heavily.

"Am I going to die?" He said to himself quietly, tasting iron on his tongue. He could barely see anything anymore.

The figure seemed to still be there, bending over him. Something was shoved against his face, and a hot, sticky liquid spilled into his mouth. He coughed and swallowed, feeling so, so sick.

He couldn't pass out. If he did that, he'd die. It was so hard to keep his eyes open, but he had to.

His attacker seemed to have gone now, leaving him to die. He wasn't going to die. Not with all the people depending on him.

Groaning, he shifted, trying to get to his feet. Get up, and get help. He could barely move, and he writhed on the ground hopelessly.

Was there no one here at all? Where were all the people? He couldn't even stand up on his own, for all the agony he was in.

He took deep breaths, in and out. If there was no one here to help him, he had to help himself.

He tried to get up again. His legs felt like jelly and he felt as though his arms would break under the pressure. He managed to push himself up into a kneeling position. Shakily, he stood up.

He was standing up now. He was so dizzy.

He pressed a hand on his neck, in an attempt to stem the blood flow. He was standing.

One foot in front of the other, he began walking back to the dorm.

It felt like a century went by.

Jisung staggered through the front door of the dorm, his hands still pressed against his neck in an attempt to slow the blood that was gushing out. He was on the verge of passing out, the floor swaying dangerously beneath him.

"Jisung?" He heard Chan's voice from the kitchen. "It's about time you got back."

Jisung panted, feeling sweat trickling down his forehead. For some reason, he really didn't want anyone to see the wound. Even though it clearly needed medical attention, every part of him was screaming at himself to run and hide.