“Come on, it’s only for a little while! She won’t even notice that you’re gone!”

“I’m not allowed,” Kyuhyun replied. He felt his mouth moving, but the words were not his own; they were undoubtedly female.

“It won’t kill you to break the rules once in awhile,” a boy sighed.

“Apparently that’s all I do,” Kyuhyun heard the voice reply, the words sardonic. The boy rolled his eyes, evidently frustrated, before walking off in the opposite direction. Kyuhyun could hear him mutter, “suit yourself,” as he disappeared around the corner.

Kyuhyun stood still, staring at the road in front of him. His head moved to the side, against his own accord, and he caught sight of the old-fashioned, looming building behind him. A woman stood in the entrance, and, by now, Kyuhyun was well accustomed to her. She had been present in his dreams for some days now.

“What were you doing talking to that boy?” the woman barked, marching forward. “I told you to stand out here, and to keep your mouth shut. This is a punishment, not an opportunity to act like the little you are.”

“He’s my friend,” Kyuhyun heard himself — in that unfamiliar voice — reply icily. “He asked me to come out with him, but I said no.”

“This is your own damn fault!” the woman spat. “If you’d just behave — ”

“It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything.”

The woman’s eyes flashed, and she raised her hand, bringing it down in a fluid motion. It struck the side of Kyuhyun’s face, and he felt a sharp pain slash through it.

“,” the woman spat. “Good for nothing swine! Stand out here in the heat, and die for all I care.”

She turned around and stalked off, disappearing inside the run-down building. Kyuhyun watched her go, feeling a cocktail of emotions whirring within him. Anger, rage, humiliation, all mingled together, choking him. Kyuhyun felt his fists shaking, trembling against his sides as if someone were electrocuting him. A sharp pain travelled through his palms, and as he glanced down, eyes stinging, he caught sight of the blood flowing down his wrists, and realised that his fingernails — or her fingernails — had pierced through his palms. Somewhere in the haze of anger he marvelled at how easily they had cut into the skin, like a knife in butter, imprinting themselves on the delicate flesh.

Kyuhyun woke up a moment later, breathing hard.

He swallowed, laying in bed, and wasn’t even surprised to feel the wet liquid on his hands. He glanced down, staring at the five small lines that marred each palm. He felt sick; sick, but not surprised in the least. He knew that Minho would probably say that he’d done this to himself in his sleep, but Kyuhyun knew that there was more to it. He’d been having similar dreams for days now, ever since his meeting with Changmin and Minho.

“Kyuhyun, hurry up!” Leeteuk’s voice dragged him out of his revere. “We’ll be late if you don’t get ready now!”

“I’m coming,” Kyuhyun replied, stepping out of the room.

Leeteuk turned around, a frown on his face. “Don’t take too long in the shower,” he told him firmly. “We’re in a rush.” His brow creased and he leaned forward, squinting. “You’re cheek’s a little red,” he observed.

“I’ll be quick,” Kyuhyun replied, averting his eyes. He hurried off before the leader could say anything more.

Kyuhyun swallowed as he neared the bathroom. He could feel his clothes sticking to him, glued to his body with a thin layer of perspiration. He was less than a meter away from the bathroom door before he realised that he left his towel inside his room. With a sigh he doubled back, hoping he wouldn’t encounter any of his hyungs on the way. Any nagging from them, and he would resort to the use of physical violence — he’d blame the usual early morning bad mood for any damage.

He searched through his closet, his fingers thumbing through random items of clothing, until he came across a stray towel, thrown at the very back of the cramped space.

“I really need to clean this place out,” he muttered, grimacing. He shut the door, and turned around. He was moments from leaving the room when his phone rang.

He paused, his brow furrowing. It was fairly early — something which added to the torture of his rigorous training schedule — so he was surprised. Who in their right mind would be calling at this time? Still frowning, he walked over, picking up the device, and holding it to his ear. As he did so, he vaguely remembered that Changmin had told him, and a chill ran down his spine.

“Destroy them.”

Kyuhyun stood still, blinking in confusion as he tried to make sense of the words. That strange, stilted sentence was spoken in a male voice, and there was something so familiar about it. It sounded disjointed, as if someone had tampered with it to make the vocals sound different; however, even with the changes, there was something distinctly familiar about it.

“Destroy what?” Kyuhyun questioned, apprehensively. His mind was screaming, and Changmin’s words were at it’s forefront. Surely this wasn’t the same person who had spoken to his friend?

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence, before a familiar beeping reached his ears.

The call had ended.

…

The next phone call came later that day. The day had been packed — dance practice, which had dragged on for what seemed like hours, followed by vocal training, and then appearances on a radio-show and a variety show respectively. By the time he had arrived home, Kyuhyun had been exhausted, and looking forward to curling up in bed, and going to sleep. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his clothes before he’d thrown himself into bed, his mind fogged up with exhaustion.

When the phone had rung he’d fumbled around for it and held it to his ear, his mind clear of any concern. In hindsight, if he’d been in a more steady state of mind, he would have felt a flash of fear, or a sudden chill; the memory of the phone call from that morning had remained at the back of his mind all day, like an annoying itch that you just couldn’t reach.

“Yes?” he murmured, the word slightly slurred.

“Destroy them.”

That woke him up. Kyuhyun sat up a little straighter, and, for a moment, he was frozen. He swallowed, tightening his grip on the phone.

“Destroy what? What do you want me to destroy?” he asked, hoping his voice was calm and steady. Don’t overreact, he told himself. You don’t know what this is — Minho could be right. It could be nothing.

There was a moment of silence, and Kyuhyun wondered if the call had ended. He could still hear breathing on the other end though; soft, steady breathing.

Then —

“The letters.”

“Letters?” Kyuhyun repeated, confused. “What letters? What are you talking about?”

The call ended. Kyuhyun was momentarily distracted by that steady beeping sound. Kyuhyun sat still, staring, trying to decipher what those words meant.

A moment later the beeping merged with the sound of footsteps. Kyuhyun almost missed them — they were so soft, almost as if someone was tiptoeing into the room. Almost as if they didn’t want to be heard; as if they wanted to surprise him, and strike when he least expected it.

When he had no chance of fighting back.

When he did hear them, he whirled around, his hands pressed tightly against the phone. With wide eyes, he searched the room, but it was empty. There was no sign of any intruders. All Kyuhyun could hear was his own ragged breathing, filling the small space.

The phone rang again. Kyuhyun slammed his fingers against the ‘answer’ button, and he held it to his ear. His heart thudded in his chest, the sound as steady as the beeping of the phone, and those ghostly footsteps.

“Hello?” Kyuhyun murmured.

“Why are you still sitting in your room?”

Kyuhyun froze. He felt his hands go limp, and he almost dropped the phone. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but his mouth felt numb.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

A shadow appeared under the door.

Kyuhyun’s hands trembled. The phone slipped through his fingers, and he stared in horror. He struggled to regain control of himself as his heart rate increased. ‘It could just be one of my hyungs,’ he told himself. ‘Hell, Sungmin shares this room with me, it’s probably him…’

All these thoughts went out the window as soon as he saw the door handle moving. Kyuhyun slid backwards, curling in on himself.

“Go away!” he howled. His hands pressed against his legs, and he was certain he’d leave bruises behind. “I’ll call the police!” he added, trying to sound threatening. Instead, all that came out was a frightened wail.

The handle stopped moving, and, for a moment, there was nothing. Kyuhyun didn’t move; all movement may have ceased, but the shadow was still there. He trembled and pressed closer to the wall. It felt cold against his back, and he closed his eyes, feeling a lump growing in his throat. It occurred to him that he hadn’t felt this afraid in a long time.

And then the banging started.

It didn’t start soft and build up — the first knock was harsh, and caused the door to shake, so much so that Kyuhyun wondered if it would fall right of its hinges. It was followed another, and then another; the door jerked, inside and out, like a beating heart, about to burst and fall to the ground in pieces.

“Open the door!” screamed a voice. Not the voice from the phone — a women’s voice.

‘The voice from my dream,’ Kyuhyun realised with a start. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Open the door! Open the door! Open the door! Open the door!”

Kyuhyun jumped to his feet. He had no idea what he was going to do; he had no intention of opening the door. His eyes flew around the room, searching for a hiding place. He took a step forward, and the strangest feeling enveloped him. For a moment, he felt like he was suspended on air; all sound was gone, and it was just him, all alone. Then, the moment passed, and he was falling.

All around him there was rock; it stretched down for miles, jagged and rough, and below him was a sea of hard granite. They reached up like threatening hands, waiting to catch him, and to crush him. But before they could, he felt something else hold him. Fingers curved around his shoulders, and Kyuhyun breathed a sigh of relief as he was pulled further and further away from the knife-like rocks below him.

Then he turned around, and he was back into Hell. The face of his saviour — or his tormentor — stared back at him, bruised, bloody and broken. The women’s eyes were wide, popping out of their sockets, and surrounded by dark, purpling bruises. Her dark hair, coated in sweat and dirt, brushed against his face as she turned her head towards him. — as bruised and broken as the rest of her face — opened, and Kyuhyun caught sight of rows of yellowing, cracked teeth.

He screamed.

He screamed, and he screamed, and he thrashed, trying to escape from her hold. The grip tightened, and he felt her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Let me go!” he wailed, kicking, scratching, biting — anything to escape. “Leave me alone you ! I don’t want this! I never did anything to you! Leave me alone!”

“Kyuhyun! Kyuhyun!”

His eyes flew open. He stood still, shaking, as the familiar sight of his room enveloped him. His gaze settled on the person holding him — Leeteuk — and he trembled.

“Oh god, Kyu, what’s wrong?” the leader asked, his voice oozing with fear and concern.

Kyuhyun opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He felt his vision blur, and he threw himself forward, gripping onto the leader’s shoulders. He knew he was shaking, and he knew that there were others in the room; he could hear his bandmate’s concerned voices surrounding him. Rather than being embarrassed, they were like a soothing balm, comforting him as he felt himself being overtaken by fear and confusion.

All Kyuhyun could do was cling to his hyung and cry, as he felt all logic and reason crumble around him.