chapter four

I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not

insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am

not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I

am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not

insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am

not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I

am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not

insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am

not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I

am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not

insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am

not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I

am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not

insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am

not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I

am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not

insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am

not insane.

Horror rips my eyelids open.

My body is drenched in a cold sweat, my brain swimming in unforgotten

waves of pain. My eyes settle on circles of black that dissolve in the darkness. I

have no idea how long I’ve slept. I have no idea if I’ve scared my cellmate with

my dreams. Sometimes I scream out loud.

jimin is staring at me.

I’m breathing hard and I manage to heave myself upright. I pull the blankets

closer to my body only to realize I’ve stolen his only means for warmth. It never

even occurred to me that he might be freezing just as much as I am. I’m

shivering in place but his body is unflinching in the night, his silhouette a strong

form against the backdrop of black. I have no idea what to say. There’s nothing

to say.

"The screams never stop in this place, do they?”

The screams are only the beginning. “No,” I mouth almost mutely. A faint

blush flushes my face and I’m happy it’s too dark for him to notice. He must

have heard my cries.

Sometimes I wish I never had to sleep. Sometimes I think that if I stay very,

very still, if I never move at all, things will change. I think if I freeze myself I

can freeze the pain. Sometimes I won’t move for hours. I will not move an inch.

If time stands still nothing can go wrong.

“Are you okay?” jimin ’s voice is concerned. I study the balled fists at his

sides, the furrow buried in his brow, the tension in his jaw. This same person

who stole my bed and my blanket is the same one who went without tonight. So

cocky and careless so few hours ago; so careful and quiet right now. It scares me

that this place could have broken him so quickly. I wonder what he heard while I

was sleeping.

I wish I could save him from the horror.

Something shatters; a tortured cry sounds in the distance. These rooms are

buried deep in concrete, walls thicker than the floors and ceilings combined to

keep sounds from escaping too far. If I can hear the agony it must be

insurmountable. Every night there are sounds I don’t hear. Every night I wonder

if I’m next.

“You’re not insane.”

My eyes snap up. His head is cocked, his eyes focused and clear despite the

shroud that envelops us. He takes a deep breath. “I thought everyone in here was

insane,” he continues. “I thought they’d locked me up with a psycho.”

I take a sharp hit of oxygen. “Funny. So did I.”

1

2

3 seconds pass.

He cracks a grin so wide, so amused, so refreshingly sincere it’s like a clap

of thunder through my body. Something pricks at my eyes and breaks my knees.

I haven’t seen a smile in 265 days.

jimin is on his feet.

I offer him his blanket.

He takes it only to wrap it more tightly around my body and something is suddenly constricting in my chest. My lungs are skewered and strung together

and I’ve just decided not to move for an eternity when he speaks.

“What’s wrong?”

My parents stopped touching me when I was old enough to crawl. Teachers

made me work alone so I wouldn’t hurt the other children. I’ve never had a

friend. I’ve never known the comfort of a mother’s hug. I’ve never felt the

tenderness of a father’s kiss. I’m not insane. “Nothing.”

5 more seconds. “Can I sit next to you?”

That would be wonderful. “No.” I’m staring at the wall again.

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. He runs a hand through his hair and I

realize for the first time that he’s not wearing a shirt. It’s so dark in this room I

can only catch the curves and contours of his silhouette; the moon is allowed

only a small window to light this space but I watch as the muscles in his arms

tighten with every movement and I’m suddenly on fire. Flames are licking at my

skin and there’s a burst of heat clawing through my stomach. Every inch of his

body is raw with power, every surface somehow luminous in the darkness. In 17

years I’ve never seen anything like him. In 17 years I’ve never talked to a boy

my own age. Because I’m a monster.

I close my eyes until I’ve sewn them shut.

I hear the creak of his bed, the groan of the springs as he sits down. I unstitch

my eyes and study the floor. “You must be freezing.”

“No.” A strong sigh. “I’m actually burning up.”

I’m on my feet so quickly the blankets fall to the floor. “Are you sick?” My

eyes scan his face for signs of a fever but I don’t dare inch closer. “Do you feel

dizzy? Do your joints hurt?” I try to remember my own symptoms. I was

chained to my bed by my own body for 1 week. I could do nothing more than

crawl to the door and fall face-first into my food. I don’t even know how I

survived.

“What’s your name?”

He’s asked the same question 3 times already. “You might be sick,” is all I

can say.

“I’m not sick. I’m just hot. I don’t usually sleep with my clothes on.”

Butterflies catch fire in my stomach. An inexplicable humiliation is searing

my flesh. I don’t know where to look.

A deep breath. “I was a jerk yesterday. I treated you like crap and I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have done that.”

I dare to meet his gaze.

His eyes are the perfect shade of cobalt, blue like a blossoming bruise, clear

and deep and decided. His jaw is set and his features are carved into a careful

expression. He’s been thinking about this all night.

“Okay.”

“So why won’t you tell me your name?” He leans forward and I freeze.

I thaw.

I melt. “taehyung ,” I whisper. “My name is taehyung .”

His lips soften into a smile that cracks apart my spine. He repeats my name

like the word amuses him. Entertains him. Delights him.

In 17 years no one has said my name like that.

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