January 2021 - North Korean Prison Camp

Cold. 

It was always cold, especially at night. 

It was hard to sleep when you couldn’t keep yourself warm but also when at any given moment could be the last. Minho barely slept but when he did, he slept sitting up in his cell. He’d bring his knees closer to his chest in an attempt to stay warm but when his knees started to cramp and ache, he’d stretch them out only to feel cold again. 

Eventually, his tailbone would start to ache from sitting up too long. He would be irritated because he was tired and knew it would be another battle of deciding whether or not he wanted to sleep on the hard floor. Not that it would be any better considering that at night he heard the small squeaks of rats or their scurrying paws against the concrete nearby. Eventually, his mind got the better of him and he opted for the floor. 

He would lay down in a fetal position, popping up the collar of the tattered prisoner shirt to cover his neck just in case. He crossed his arms under his chest to make himself feel as small as he possibly could. In an unusual way, Minho felt better sleeping on the floor, especially when he felt his lower back pop from being stagnant for too long. 

Sleep would quickly consume him as he allowed his body some type of rest. He would sleep for what felt like hours but he would never know because the very small prison was always so dark. Before he went to sleep Minho would always think about home and hoped he’d still be alive to see home again. 

Just when it had been peaceful, that’s when he heard it. 

His eyes immediately opened when he heard the scurrying sound. Minho sat up suddenly to see if he heard it again since it was impossible to see in the dark. There was silence. Maybe he thought he heard it… that was until he felt something run past his hand. Minho stayed completely still despite his heart starting to pick up in his chest. There was another scurrying sound nearby along with some squeaks. He was about to move until something pinched the soft skin between his index finger and thumb on his hand so hard he flinched. 

There was a coldness that he felt and by instinct he put his hand to his lips. Immediately he tasted blood, his blood. There were more squeaks and scurrying sounds surrounding him. He didn’t know where or when but a bright light of a flashlight cascaded through the bars of his cell. Minho squinted and even raised his hand to shield his eyes from the intruding light. He could barely make out the silhouette of the person holding the flashlight but what he was most concerned about was the discovery he made when the light illuminated all around him. 

Rats. 

Hordes and hordes of rats surrounded him and the squeaking had gotten louder. Minho was frozen as this was more than an infestation… this was deliberate. He couldn’t even look back up to see the other holding the flashlight. After the first bite he received, he felt another bite by his ankle. Then his wrist and one of his toes. Like some kind of horror movie, the rats found their way up his pants leg, under his shirt by his stomach and up the sleeves of his arms, biting him. 

No matter how hard he tried to fight them off, their small teeth gnawed at his skin until he bled. The vermin literally started to cover every inch of Minho and when he looked back towards the direction of the flashlight, it was gone. The rat's squeaking became so loud in his ears and the chewing on his flesh became all too much that he hadn’t realized he was screaming. 

But then he woke up. 

Minho sat upright, panting in the dark. He had a thin sheen of sweat as he felt himself over to find nothing was crawling on him. When he realized that everything had been a dream, did he allow himself to sigh out a heavy and exhausted breath. He leaned back against the cold wall of his cell and closed his eyes. 

Though, he wasn’t tired. He wasn’t going to try and force himself to sleep like he usually did. There would be no point but at the same time, if he didn’t, it only meant not having enough energy for the long and gruelling day of manual labor ahead of him. So far, Minho had figured he must have been off the radar when it came to the labor portion of his imprisonment. But it didn’t excuse him from North Korean soldiers ruining the work he had done, only to redo it all over again. It also didn’t excuse him from the brutal days of random beatings either. It would be a coincidence to Minho that just when the bruises and cuts had almost healed on his battered body, did they decide to give him fresh new ones.

There was a sudden jerk and pull by the torn collar of the rag-like clothes. Loud shouting filled his ears. Minho opened his eyes to realize what was going on. Two soldiers were practically dragging him like a rag doll out of his cell, screaming at him to stand up. He hadn’t realized he had dozed off and Minho took a mental note of how he hadn’t heard anything prior to this given moment. He was given a final warning to stand up and so he did. 

In the dim lighting of the building, Minho discovered there were even more soldiers nearby. One of them shouted at him to go sit in the chair that sat idly in the middle of the open space. In the other cells, curious prisoners dared themselves to look through the bars at the ruckus. Without questioning it, Minho shuffled over to the chair and sat. More off to his left side, he also saw a decent sized metal barrel with what looked like it was filled with water. At least, that’s what he hoped. 

Immediately, two soldiers went to either side of him and took his wrists. This was new, and Minho couldn’t help himself but react silently by furrowing his brows in confusion. He felt them move his arms behind him, around the back of the chair to handcuff him. Instinctively, Minho’s heart rate increased, and he glared up at the group of six counted soldiers before him. The situation did not look good. 

"Your brothers in the South know of your well-being,” One of the soldiers started flatly. Minho raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise, and for good reason. He knew that the North wouldn’t release any information if it meant that Minho would confess to taking the blame for landing on their side of the border, but since he refused every single time, the North decided to take terms into their own hands. Likewise, the North refused any information or gave very vague information, if any at all. 

Minho continued to sit quietly, trying his best to remain composed and unnerved. On the inside, he was screaming.

Without warning, the soldier marched to enclose the small gap between the two of them and practically was inches from Minho’s face. 

"How do they know that?” The soldier barked in irritation at Minho’s silence.

Immediately, Minho leaned back as much as he could out of instinct but never broke eye contact. In the back of his mind, everything from Haneul’s birthday leading up to now replayed in his mind. He didn’t dare shift his eyes over to their one soldier, who he’d seen just as he was being handcuffed.

Taking a heavy breath through his nose and letting it out, Minho finally answered the only answer he could give. In his low, bass toned voice, he replied, “I don’t know.”

The soldier took a few steps back and glared at him. Minho was holding back from smirking but it quickly diminished as the soldier revealed a baton and struck him in his abdomen. The air that forced itself out of him concerned him more than the pain that followed quickly afterward. Through the burning coming from his stomach, he looked back up at the soldiers who didn’t even seem to have flinched once. 

It was a brief second that Minho shifted his eyes over to one of the soldiers in particular. It seemed to have gone unnoticed by everyone else because then…

Crraackk!

The second blow had struck Minho good and hard at his rib cage that he not only heard the crack but he was sure he felt it. He yelped out loudly and shut his eyes tight with the searing pain that radiated from his right side of his chest to his right elbow. Now it was harder to catch his breath, as each one he took felt as though his chest and lungs were on fire. 

While trying to collect himself, he heard the sound of squeaky wheels. Minho lifted his head. Two of the soldiers were moving the barrel closer towards him. In the dim, fluorescent lighting above them, Minho saw the liquid in the barrel slosh over the sides. They stopped once they were close enough for it to brush up against his knees. Through his pain, the smell that found his nose was putrid. He couldn’t hide his disgust, in fact, he was close to vomiting and turned his face away. 

"You do know, and you’ll tell us, one way or another.” 

Minho perked up at the words. The two soldiers who had pushed the barrel were now at either of his sides. He felt their hands tightly grip his forearms and heard the handcuffs unlock quickly only to be cuffed again but he wasn’t up against the chair this time. With all of their strength, they hooked their arms with Minho’s and hoisted him to his feet. The barrel only stood just a little below Minho’s waist, but the problem was fixed as the soldiers unhooked their arms but securely forced him on his knees. 

The smell from the barrel was still burning his nose and without warning, he felt both of the soldiers push his upper body forward. There was no time for Minho to take a breath or even close his eyes once he made contact. He struggled against their grip, struggled to come back up for air but when he tried, he felt their hands only push his head down deeper into the barrel. 

In his mind, this was it. It was over, this was how it was going to end. But as soon as those thoughts entered his mind, they quickly left. No. This wasn’t the end. He immediately knew what had to be done, and though it meant having to go through all of this, it was the only thing that could be done without any doubts. 

What felt like minutes before they allowed him to come back to the surface, Minho was gasping for air. The pain was what made him want to pass out but at the same time, he couldn’t help from actually retching on himself. If the smell hadn’t been bad enough, the taste was worse. It was anything but water… instead it was stagnant urine.

"I'll ask you again, how does the South know about your well-being?” The soldier across from them asked. 

Breathlessly and painfully, Minho replied back, “I don’t know.” 

They dunked his head under again. And again. And again. And again. 

When they realized it was no use in getting any answers from him, they were frustrated. If they wanted to break Choi Minho, they were going to need their whole army in order to succeed. 

They hoisted Minho back into the chair, and this time they handcuffed him to it. He had become limp, light headed, nauseous, but above all, trying to survive. If he was being spoken to, he wouldn’t have been able to repeat it, as the whole room was spinning around him. For the longest time, Minho didn’t realize that he was actually being moved. He took the moment to try to collect himself to quickly learn that the group of soldiers were practically carrying him out while he remained slumped in the chair. 

In his state of being, he glanced up, not realizing they had also handcuffed his ankles to the chair and that they were taking him out of the prison. There was only one way in and one way out and it was through the one entrance to the small building. Another soldier hurried to the front of the group to the big, steel door to open it. The gust of wind from outside caused the door to swing entirely open and the bitter cold air of January downright smacked Minho in the face. 

To carry him any further must have been too much of a task, as the soldiers had only stopped short about twenty feet away from the building that held Minho as prisoner. The cold stung his damp skin that he was already shivering. His heart was beating in his ears which he knew was a signal for his body kicking into overdrive to help keep him warm. He stared at the ground that was buried in snow beneath him, trying to wrap his head around the events that just took place. 

Minho felt his ears perk up at the crunching sound of boots to see the remainder of the soldiers had left the building and that they brought the barrel along with them. He furrowed his brows when he noticed the soldiers come closer to him. It was only two men who struggled with the barrel and once they had made their way to Minho, they stood behind him. 

Without warning and without any hesitation, the two North Korean soldiers lifted the barrel and dumped the contents over Minho’s head. 

The wind whistled in his ear but he almost couldn’t hear it from his teeth chattering so hard. His hands were balled into fists while continuing to stare down at the ground. The crunching of the snow illuminated that the soldiers were leaving… all except for one. 

A pair of boots came into view, and finally, Minho lifted his gaze to the soldier who stood before him. Neither one of them said anything and it almost seemed like some kind of competition on who would break the silence first. After a brief moment, the soldier sighed and broke his silence first. 

"I'm sorry,” He started in a monotone voice. “They’re on very high alert right now… the least we can do is have you wait it out a little longer--” 

"I'm done waiting!” Minho interjected, glaring as he did so. “Oh Daejung, you said that I’d be able to get home by tonight and that’s what you’re going to do.” 

The soldier, Oh Daejung, looked up and also returned the glare. Minho didn’t even seem to blink. 

"That’s an order.” Minho said in a matter of fact tone. 

Daejung furrowed his eyebrows and gritted his teeth a little. He took a step closer towards Minho, making whatever space they had between them very little. 

"I don’t think it would be wise of you to believe that you can freely command any orders. You’re on the wrong side of the border. Plus let’s not forget who’s the one handcuffed to the chair here.” Daejung said flatly. 

In that instant, the influx of emotion overcame Minho. He tried to lunge forward but being constricted along with the bolt of pain shooting up along his ribs made him stop short. He’d forgotten how earlier he’d been struck so hard that the more he thought about it, the more the pain seared through him and made it hard to breathe. He slumped back in the chair, shivering from the cold as well as trying to catch his breath. 

Daejung watched, and though he looked stoic on the outside, on the inside, there were also an influx of emotions going through him. To say he felt any type of remorse would have been accurate, but he learned not to show it. Showing any kind of emotion other than devotion to the State was almost the same as being a traitor. With a heavy sigh, Daejung spoke up again. 

"I have to leave or else they will continue suspecting more… I’m sorry, there isn’t much else I can do.” The young soldier said while looking down. Almost as if he actually felt shameful. 

Minho looked back up, trying to breathe through his nose but even that wasn’t helping. Looking at Daejung only infuriated Minho even more. With each breath he exhaled through his nostrils was similar to that of a bull, and it was best to not open the gate. 

"There’s a lot that you can do, but you refuse to do it. Don’t stand there and try to make me feel sorry for you. You’re nothing but a sheep just like the rest. You have no mind of your own because if you did, you wouldn’t be doing this.” Minho’s voice dripped with venom and it must have stung quite badly for Daejung to draw out his handgun. 

The end of the gun was inches away from Minho’s forehead and there it remained. It was another stare down between the two of them. 

"I could kill you right now if I wanted to.” Daejung replied quietly. 

Minho scoffed back at him. “Then do it. You’d be doing me the biggest favor. I’ve been wanting to die my entire life. So do the honors, Private Oh Daejung.” 

There was no hiding of Daejung’s expression that he was actually taken aback. It took everything in him to keep his hand steady, but between the cold and his emotions running wild, it was slowly becoming an incredibly hard task to do. 

"C'mon, do it.” Minho said again. “Shoot me, already.”

Daejung stood frozen. As he stared back at the other man’s disheveled face, his dark eyes were almost sparkling as he noticed they seemed to be b with tears. His mind was swimming with thoughts that were running a mile per minute in his head. 

People like Minho are the enemy. 

They are just as much scum as Americans.

But they’re people, too. 

We're all people. Aren’t we? 

"Shoot me, you ing coward!” Minho yelled, through the pain, the cold, the hunger, and most of all, the desperation. Daejung remained frozen in his spot. He had thought he’d seen many things in these camps, but he hadn’t thought that he would face a situation like this. 

Minho could feel his heart beating in his ears. His teeth were chattering so hard he was close to biting his tongue until it bled. His entire body felt frozen and it was aching for warmth. The both of them stared silently until Daejun lowered the gun and looked down to the snow. 

The wind whistled between them and spread the light dusting of recent snowfall around them. Minho felt so mentally and physically exhausted that he couldn’t help but start to quietly chuckle. Daejung looked back up at the other man slowly and saw that Minho was struggling to even get a full laugh out. The look he gave to Daejung was enough to tell the North Korean soldier that his counterpart had been right all along. 

Daejung swallowed hard before putting his gun back into the holster and he hung his head. 

"I'll see what I can do to get you out of here.”

----

A/N: My, have the turn tables o: 

Hello lovely readers!! 

Thank you all for still keeping this story in your thoughts! I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a really long time, but I'm okay! There was a COVID scare but I ended up testing negative so all is good! 

Pluuus I've been kind of spending a lot of time between working/job hutning/and finding something too. I kind of fell out of writing for a little bit (as you can probably tell/feel from this chapter, so I apologize in advance!) This chapter was really hard to write... not becaise of what was going on in the scene, but ehh I kind of felt I hit a plateu with the story but I for sure want to be able to get it done at least in a few months LOL

or who knows ,maybe even weeks!

If you'd like to, I'm also Shawol twitter, so if you'd like to follow me there you're more than welcome to! My @/shatingstarwol (watch maybe some of us are actually moots LOL) 

But it's good to be back and writing again! Thank you all again for your kind words, support, and just liking my story overall! 

Happy Shawol Day! & remember to stream Key's new MV - Hate That! 

Also I'm sorry if some of the wording is off/doesn't make sense... I'm running on like 3 hours of sleep right now LOL I'll edit it a little bit after :) 

-M