Suddenly, the car feels suffocating.

You curl up further, pulling yourself in to make up for the void that seems to open in your chest.

For a scalding moment, you almost don't believe it. This can't be your Jimin. This can't be anyone's Jimin.

Then what if he is his own Jimin?

You jolt at the sudden voice of your subconscious mind, the question mind numbing and scary. What if?

What if Baekhyun wasn't lying?

You shake your head minutely, feeling the blood rush to your head in the closed space of the car's boot. No. No, it can't be. Baekhyun - who had hurt you, and him, Baekhyun, the one person who had played the most painfully major role in ripping apart the haven you had lived your past life in.

But he never lied.

This thought sinks in with a heavuer weight than it came, and you supress the urge to cry out, the frustration and utter lack of control or awareness making you want to rip your hair out. He never really lied, did he?

But then, there's nothing stopping him from lying, if he hasn't done it once before. What's stopping him from getting to what he wants? Your trust.

Which - maybe, just maybe - is possibly futile.

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of your own thoughts carve into your shoulders like talons. What if? What if you're right?

Nothing, nothing makes sense.

Why would Jimin be like this?

Had he given up already?

You have way too many questions, and neither answers nor means of answering them. Not even hints. Where was the group going, anyway? Who was killed?

Your heart hurts just as much as your brain.

Your mind goes back to the few moments you spent in your cell talking to Baekhyun, the coldness of his voice discolouring to almost worry and anxiousness.

Did he want you to hear this? Hear Jimin, changed - the leader Baekhyun was calling him?

If yes - did he know you were in the car?

You shudder against the implications of that, and let exhaustion sweep over you in waves against the rocky shore of your shaken mind.

And you sleep.

|

You can't tell how long it has been when you wake up, consciousness finding your groggy self with an almost urgent disposition. Your eyes snap open, and you shift slightly in your position.

No matter what the time, it has definitely been long since you took refuge in the back of the car.

Your joints feel like rusted machines that will break if you move them. You resist the impulse to stretch them out, in case they pop and alert your fellow passengers to your whereabouts.

It's not like you have much space, anyway.

Then, you realise with a start that the seat in front of you isn't vibrating anymore.

The car's stopped.

You flinch as a car door slams shut, eyes wide.

This is your chance.

Heart thudding in your chest, you wait a few minutes for the person to leave before pushing the hood open just enough for you to slide out, and drop to the street in a crouch. The gravel crunches under your sneakers, and you wince, realising you have to crawl if you don't want to be noticed by the ever-watching rearview mirror.

It's dark out, night prevaling in the unknown area. The sky is pitch black and the old street is marked with a single, flickering orange street light, and everything is shadowy.

You shuffle forward, groaning minutely as pain shoots up your leg muscles. Moving forward to about three feet or so, you look back once to look at the car.

Then you get to your feet and run.

Your breath leaves you in ragged exhales, each inhale feeling like a drag from a cigarette. Your lungs hurt, and pain flares up your asleep ankle, but you don't look back and run.

When you finally stop and turn, the road behind you is empty, the twists and turns in your path having completely alienated you from your supposed captors. You're still jittery, however, still unsure whether the whole thing is one of Baekhyun's ploys, and even better, there are no police stations around.

You check your pockets, only finding spare change and a rubber band. Sighing, you wonder whether they took your phone before remembering you didn't have it on you in the first place.

How much dumber could I get?

And then you see a telephone booth. Perfect.

You step in and punch in Yoongi's number, the worry eating at you demanding you to hear his voice. The police can be contacted later.

"Hello?" The voice is groggy, hoarse and high-strung, but you identify the sleepy undertones of Yoongi's voice. A smile breaks your features, and you could cry.

"It's me," Your voice sounds ages old. "Y/N."

There's a shocked silence on the other end of the line, before it's broken by an indignant voice. "You deplorable idiot!" The blue-haired boy yells into the phone, and you wince. "Do you know how worried I-we were?! Where the hell were you? Have you called the police? When-"

"Hush, I know I'm stupid." Even your battered condition can't stop the warmth from spreading through you. "And I'm sorry, but I really needed to talk to you." Your voice softens. "Just...hang in there for a few."

You can almost see him rolling his eyes, bouncing his knee in anxiousness.

"Alright, you thick-skulled disgrace to the world," He mutters viciously. "You have thirty seconds to explain."

||

WOAH

sorry for being gone :') i just really needed some time to myself, and plus, i was away. i hope this update makes up for it - plus there will be another one in a few hours <3

ILY GUYS SO MUCH YOU ALL ARE PERFECT ❤

Love,
Manx.