Snatched ⟿ k.seokjin

- 10.

The second Hyosung heard the rush of the shower, she inhaled sharply. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Desperately, she glanced around the apartment, looking for any telltale signs of something that could help her. The flurry of papers on the coffee table caught her attention again, and it felt as though she had swallowed a rock, weighing heavy in her stomach.

Demons?

That's what he claimed to be, but Hyosung had never been a religious women and even when she was younger, she struggled to believe in Father Christmas among other mythical beings. This man didn't have an ounce of credibility to his name, not to her at least, but his words still rang fresh in her mind. What he said, what he was claiming, it tied the previous explanations together and gave some sense to the stuff he was saying.

But that couldn't possibly mean it was true, right?

Sighing in frustration, she directed her attention elsewhere. There was nothing more the papers on the table could give to her seeing as the ancient looking scribe written beside the pictures wasn't something she could read.

Her head began to buzz, grasping desperately at anything that would help her escape. She tried the windows, but unsurprisingly, they were locked. The door would have been a waste of time, after all, she witnessed Seokjin lock it twice, and then her eyes widened as a thought surfaced in her mind. With hesitant steps and weary eyes constantly snapping back to the bathroom door, her ears strained for the moment the water turned off, she stepped towards the kitchen island, right where Seokjin pulled out a knife to cut the zip tie that connected them.

She almost gasped when the draw opened with ease, showcasing an array of kitchen knives, varying in sizes, but they all had black plastic hilts and the steel looked as though it was untouched. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked down at them, her stomach churning at the prospect of what she might have to do.

Before she could let her conscious talk her out of it, she picked up one of the smaller knives, shivering at the icy scratch of the blade as she pulled it out. The hilt felt loose in her palm despite the vice-like grip. With each step more delicate than the last, she pressed herself against the wall outside the bathroom door trying her best to shallow her breathing.

Of all the things she had gone through so far, this may have been the scariest. The anticipation trembled through the limbs and she pursed her lips into a tight line.

With each second that trawled by, she wondered what was taking him so long. They definitely don't have to wait this long in the movies.

Finally, the shower switched off and she heard fumbling from the other side of the door. Minutes passed slowly, until a resounding click of the lock.

You can do it, Hyosung. You can do it.

Before Seokjin had a chance to step out of the bathroom, Hyosung gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as she moved forward with all her might, pushing all of her weight into the knife. It felt like it hit a wall at first, like it wouldn't be able to pierce through the surface, and for a brief second she was worried she missed him entirely, but then there was a sickening pop as it tore through the layer and wedged deep in something that was most certainly not plaster.

She heard him choke, and almost like the knife sent a sharp jolt through her body, she jumped back with a sharp, shaky inhale. As much as she didn't want to open her eyes and admit to what she just did, she had to know.

He stood there with wide eyes, lips parted with a gasp caught between them as he looked down at the kitchen knife protruding from his chest, but he didn't stagger, he didn't cry out in pain, he didn't... do anything.