TASTE | KTH

strong

TW//ABUSE.

"Where the hell were you, huh?" He asks. Yura never knew how six little syllables could strike such a pure and consuming fear into the pit of her stomach. She's tempted to turn around and walk back out the door, back where he can't hurt her, but it's too late. He's seen her, and he's angry.

"Work." Yura chokes out, the only thing she can manage to get out over the lump in her throat. She hates how much her voice shakes, how weak she sounds. She hates how she's someone so strong and capable outside the house, but the second she returns she's defenseless. She's weak, and he knows that. He likes it that way. Him, strong, and her, weak. And she hates that she lets him control her like this, but when he has that tone of voice, the one dripping with malice and contempt, she can't help it.

"I don't believe you." He says, approaching her slowly. Yura backs up, wanting as much space between her and him as possible. She knows now what happens when there isn't any space, when he's
close enough to touch her.

"You've been drinking." She says, willing her voice stronger, channeling the strength she knows she has deep down. She's a fighter in there somewhere, behind the fear and the dread filling her and fueling her now. She has to be.

"So?" He snaps, and Yura hates herself for wincing. He approaches and she continues to walk backward until her back hits the front door.

"You're not in your right mind right now." She says.

That was her first mistake.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, a fire in his eyes now.

"Really?" He asks. He's challenging her now. He likes this, seeing her scared. He wants to see her cower in the corner, he wants to watch her fear him. He wants to feel powerful, the sick son of a bitch.

"No." Yura concedes. She knows what's coming now, knows she can't prevent it anymore. She's already crossed the line, the point of no return. Now, all she can do is try to appease him. Hopefully it'll be quick. She knows it won't be painless. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He asks, and the laugh that leaves him, so void of humor, makes her sick to her stomach.

"Please." She whimpers, tears building in her eyes. "I'm sorry." Her pleads fall on deaf ears.

"Sorry isn't good enough."

"Yura?"

Yura snaps out of it. Her eyes are still wet with tears, and her apologies are still on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where she really is. She's not at home, no. She's in the interview room, interviewing a victim with Taehyung. The victim looks across the table at her, confusion on her face, and when Yura looks to her right, Taehyung is visibly concerned. He's leaning forward, a frown on his handsome face and his eyes full of worry. He's not close to her, but from the way his hands fiddle with each other, he's dying to soothe her with his touch.

Yura tears her tearful eyes away from his and looks down at her hands as they tremble in her lap. She realizes the magnitude of what she's done. Flashbacks from two nights ago had started replaying in her mind while they were interviewing the victim. Yura feels like she can't breathe, like her lungs aren't functioning properly. Her perpetual headache that she has had the last few days is at it's peak, a splitting pain behind her eyes. The lights in the room seem too bright, the room itself feels like it's spinning.

"I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me—" She manages to get out, before collecting herself and doing her best to walk in a straight line long enough to make it out the door.