Warning : This chapter contains descriptions of dead bodies, brutal murder and gore. Please proceed with caution.

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Jungkook had grabbed his car keys when he rushed downstairs. Jimin had followed him, and the two were going somewhere only Jungkook knew. Jimin kept asking questions, but Jungkook was focused. More than focused, he was scared. Jimin noticed his shaky hands, sweaty forehead, and fearful eyes. Something was wrong. 

“Jungkook, are you even going to tell me where we’re going?” Jimin slightly yelled to grab his attention. 

“Hyung, we don't have time to talk.” Jungkook stared at Jimin for a split second before removing one hand from the steering wheel and pulling out a gun from his jacket. 

"Woah, dude, how quick did you manage to keep this without me noticing?” Jimin was impressed by his friend’s skill. 

Jungkook ignored him and drove faster, going over the speed limit, but Jimin didn't care at the moment; he was worried about his friend’s reaction to solving that puzzle. Almost an hour passed like that. He wasn't driving, nor was his friend talking, so he decided to look out. His eyes widened at the familiar surroundings; Jungkook's childhood home was there, and his parents still lived there. 

“Jungkook, did you run because you thought the killer’s going to attack your childhood home?” he asked his friend, who finally halted the car as he reached near his house. 

“Congratulations on understanding it without me telling you,” Jungkook mocked him before sprinting towards his house. It was night, and his parents must have been asleep. They slept early. He rang the bell with trembling hands, hoping that the man who died three weeks ago was actually the killer and that his parents were safe. 

No one answered. 

He kept ringing the bell and banging on the door until the neighbours woke up. They smiled upon seeing him, but his expression of fright and worry confused them. Jungkook was profusely sweating, and Jimin was standing beside him, stopping him from banging on the door so harshly that his hands started bleeding.

“What happened, son? Why are you here this late? And why are you banging on the door?” An elderly woman whom he used to call ‘granny’ in his childhood appeared before him. She had grown even older. Her skin had sagged, her hair was completely white, and her walk was too slow. 

“Did you see my parents today, granny?” Jungkook asked her, finally parting his reddened hands from the door. 

“Yes, I saw them this evening.” She smiled at him. He suddenly remembered her playing with him, making food for him, and taking him to her house whenever his mother beat him too much. 

“Alright. Granny, please ask everyone to go home, I won't make any noise now.” Jungkook weakly smiled at her and everyone. The neighbours sighed and went home. The elderly woman still stood there.

“Why didn't you leave?” Jungkook asked her. Jimin tried to call his parents, but they wouldn't pick up. That was when the cop decided to break the door, all while Jungkook talked to the old lady. 

“Because I know something’s bothering you, son. I’ve known you since you were a baby. I know you’re worried for your parents.” She walked closer to Jungkook and ran a hand through his hair, just like a grandmother would. His eyes softened. Their endearing interaction didn't last long as they heard the sound of the door falling to the ground. 

“Jimin! Are you okay?” Jungkook ran over to his best friend, noticing how he was rubbing his right shoulder with his left hand. 

"Yeah, dude, go check on them now.” Jimin didn't even wait for Jungkook's action and ran inside first. He didn't even have his gun, but perhaps bravery is all a man needs in moments like those. 

“You go back now, I’ll tell you if there's anything.” Jungkook spared the lady one last glance before running inside, closely following Jimin. 

There was nothing strange in the living room, even after they had turned the lights on. They decided to check the kitchen and the bathroom, but there was nothing out of order. The only room left was his parents bedroom. That's where his fear peaked. With quivering hands, he unlocked the door using a hair pin that was lying in the bathroom, right where he remembered his mother always keeping it. 

He wished he hadn't opened the door. 

Blood was everywhere. Everything was red. From the carpet to the curtains, from the bed sheets to the table, from the sofa to the cupboard, everything was covered in blood. The blood that ran in his veins. 

His mother lay lifeless on the floor; her clothes were almost fully snatched off of her, and blood covered every inch of her being. Her eyes had been gouged out, and the sockets were as empty as a void. She was brutally murdered. Killed in a way Jungkook wouldn't want even his worst enemies to suffer. 

His father was drained of life as he sat on the bed. His back was supported by the wall, which also had several blood stains. He hoped that his father was sitting because he had life. But he was sitting because that’s how he was killed. His body had no clothes except what seemed like rugs, and blood was all that covered his nearly naked body. His forehead had a huge hole in it from a gunshot. His eyes felt alive, yet they were unblinking, staring at Jungkook, who was standing at the door. 

Jimin let out a horrified scream, looking at the room’s condition. But Jungkook was unmoving. His eyes had stopped blinking, his legs didn't show the slightest movement, and his hands were still clutching his mother's hairpin. His breathing was so slow that he appeared to be a statue. The way he was so still, it felt like he was dead. But he wasn't. He was as alive as his parents were dead. 

His heart was still beating, and his organs were still functioning. But was he really alive when the blood running in his veins was splattered all over the room he was so used to seeing his parents in? Was he really alive when the ones who brought him into the world lay in their own blood? 

Suddenly, Jimin heard a thud. Jungkook had fallen to the ground, his knees directly hitting the cold, hard floor. His eyes started blinking, his ragged breathing became audible, and his hands started shaking. His eyes were glistening in the darkness of death, and tears slowly started flowing down his cheeks. They weren't uncontrollable, but they were full of agony. The agony of a son who lost both of his parents to a cruel death. A death that he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy. 

But from that day on, his worst enemy was the killer. And he might be lawless, he might be wrong, but he wished death with twice as much pain as his parents had endured upon that killer. And if he got his hands on the killer, he would be the one to provide him with such a death. 

Tears kept flowing down his shaking hands, and clouded mind kept replaying images of his childhood. His father was a wonderful man; he didn't deserve such a fate. His father loved him, took him on lovely trips, played with him, and he never burdened him to do anything he didn't like. 

And maybe his mother wasn't the best, but even she didn't deserve that cruel fate. She might have beaten him, she might have hurt him both verbally and physically, and she might have given him bruises on his body that would never completely heal, but she was still his mother. She was still not so bad of a person for him to deserve that fate. 

Suddenly, he felt like a failure. Suddenly, he felt like he should be in pain; he should suffer in pain like his parents did. Suddenly, he wanted his father to take him on a trip so long that death wouldn't even wait for him. Suddenly he wanted his mother to bruise him so much that even her death wouldn't take her shadow away from him. 

“Jungkook,” Jimin called him out, his own voice throaty from the tears he shed. 

Jungkook didn't budge. He was crying, staring at his parents dead bodies and feeling like the worst son ever. Forget protecting the city or the country from the worst serial killer; he couldn't even protect his own parents. 

“Hyung, I-I failed. I don't, I- I don't deserve to live,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. 

“Jungkook, no, no. Don't blame yourself. In fact, you only figured it out, right?” Jimin kneeled down to look into his watery eyes. 

“But what use? What use was it? It would be better if I didn't figure it out. I wouldn't have to see my parents like- like this!” He screeched, his tears being the loudest noise in the darkest night. He put all his weight on Jimin, who held him, patting his back. Jimin was upset too; he was gravely affected by that sight. But his friend had it worse. The victims were his parents, and there was no way he could get over it. 

“Hyung I failed, I failed, I’m the worst son!” He was screaming while his tears wet Jimin’s shirt, who was controlling his own tears. If the sight wasn't already making him cry, his best friend’s state definitely was. 

“Jungkook, we need to inform the agency and forensics. This is worse than the previous ones.” Jimin lifted him up and forcefully took him to the living room before shutting the door to the bedroom. He gulped. He never knew he’d have to witness such a brutal death, and that too of someone he knew. Someone who mattered so much to his friend. Maybe if he wasn't so dumb and stopped asking stupid questions, maybe then, his friend would have reached on time and saved his parents. 

But Jimin knew that was a lie. The murder didn't take place in just an hour; it took a lot more time. The killer played with them. And somehow, he was grateful for asking so many questions that saved his friend from reaching early. And maybe those stupid questions saved his friend from an encounter with that killer. It was his duty to protect other people, but he was selfish; he wanted to protect his best friend first. He called the forensics and Mr. Lee Jong-In, the chairman of the Prosecution, Intelligence, and Police Force Agency. He informed them about everything that happened, especially Lee Jong-In. The matter was even more serious now.

When he went out to see Jungkook, he saw a horrific sight. Jungkook was hitting himself with a belt that was hanging in the bathroom when they arrived. His attacks were relentless, as if he were harming an enemy and not himself. 

“Jungkook stop!” Jimin rushed towards him and snatched the belt from his hands. However, he was a bit too late. Jungkook had already hit himself so many times and so harshly that he had no power left. As if the belt controlled his power, he fell unconscious after Jimin snatched it. 

“Jungkook! Jungkook, wake up!” Jimin screamed so loudly that he was sure anyone who was awake would hear. 

The old lady Jungkook had addressed as Granny arrived. Her steps were slow, but the moment she saw Jungkook unconscious in his arms, she ran with all her might to check on him. She kept shaking him, but he didn't wake up. Jimin and the lady tried to wake him up, but he didn't budge. He had wounds on his hands from the belt’s buckle, and Jimin didn't even want to imagine his back. 

“Jungkook, wake up,” Jimin whispered, failing to control his tears. 

Soon, the cops and forensics arrived. The cops helped Jimin take Jungkook to a hospital. He didn't want to glance at Jungkook's parents; their condition was terrifying. And the old lady's reaction to the dead bodies worried him. He went to hug her and assured her that Jungkook would be okay and that he’d take care of him.

Jungkook didn't wake up, even when the sun had risen. It wasn't due to the injuries, and Jimin knew that. Jungkook was such a strong man that such wounds meant nothing to him. But the shock he went through was enough to shake him to the core. Sure, Jungkook was strong, but no man’s strong enough to witness the cruel demise of a loved one. Jimin stayed in the hospital throughout the night; the forensics hadn't reported him yet, and Mr. Lee Jong-In had assigned other prosecutors and agents for the case while Jungkook was motionless on the hospital bed. 

It was ten in the morning when the doctor called Jimin inside his cabin, informing him that Jungkook was awake by then. 

“He isn't weak due to the injuries he suffered, but the shock he went through. He needs love right now. He needs to feel that he has someone,” the doctor said with a heavy breath. Needless to say, he was also affected by the event. 

“Thank you, doctor.” Jimin’s voice was robotic, and he bowed to the doctor before leaving for Jungkook's room. There lay his best friend in a hospital again. But this time, he felt worse. 

“Why didn't I die instead?” 

How was it?