[CONTENTID2]The open gashes will close. She has recovered from worse, has she not?[/CONTENTID2][CONTENTID1]

Still dark, the brothers wake to the discomfort heat of a violent night, a night promising vulgar exploits, crude laughter, and muted screams. Before their eyes discover the empty space in between, their souls have already known.

"She's gone... where would she wish to go to... in this hellish place? Jaejoong..."

In her absence, the anarchy inside his chest has dissipated to a calm nothingness. It whispers relief... at last.

"Jaejoong... she's gone."

Jaejoong observes the vapor escaping his brother's mouth as he rises to his feet. Ghastly vapors... in this hellish heat? Fighting against all earthly logic. He cannot expect less from his brother.

"Please, Jaejoong. Let's go look for her. If she's near, I'll sense her for sure." Profoundly infused with his surrounding, he is able to retain the memory  of her soft lips, her warm chest, her comforting embrace. 

"Can you still feel her in this distorted world?"

It is evident. "I can."

Always.

• • • • • • •

The town is at rest. The usual night sounds have retired prematurely. In their stead, clapping, cheering, shouting howls their narration. And in their story, the storm begins.

A curtain has fallen, it seems. In the backstage of a scorching alley, they drag her. No screams come to clear her clogged throat. No tears come to relieve her dry eyes. Screams and tears... they have abandoned her... deemed her a lost cause.

"Look at the afflicted . Not one cry for mercy... even when her entire body is bleeding out."

"They are different, aren't they... those who return from the Rift."

"Monsters, they become... their pale skin sickens me."

"A monster, she may be, but she's a woman, nevertheless. I dare say, there's still a few good s left in her." To be sure. How well she must have given pleasure, satisfied her master's every wish... on the other side of the Rift. To be used and now abused. That has been her fate all along. 

There is to be no compassion for the fallen. That much is certain.

They continue the torture, taking their turn to satiate an undying thirst, laughing at the damage they have caused... all the while, unaware of their new audience watching from around the corner.

He holds his brother still. Seeking recognition in all the chaos, he knows those eyes... the eyes of a crying child and a monster. So fine is the line that divides the two. His brother, Junki, is easily swayed.

He is suffering.

"It's her. It's Xinling. Can't you see, Jaejoong? Are you blind?! She needs us!"

As much as he suffers, he will not allow his brother to make a scene. "No, we will not go to her." Not yet.

"Why... why?! You're asking me to leave her to their... their games... you're asking me to just stand here and watch?" He breaks.

"Yes. So, hush. It'll be over soon."

"How... why..." He chokes back the tears. "I thought you changed, brother." It hurts him to speak the word 'brother' so affectionately. "You are the worst... you are indeed the very worst!"

All will end well. Time is the greatest of healers. Time heals all wounds. Scars will vanish. The open gashes will close. She has recovered from worse, has she not? A lost ear, a sundered leg, a riddled heart. For her, it will all heal, will it not?

Junki can no longer bear it. To be powerless in the hands of his cruel brother. He cannot be made to suffer through the massacre. Not anymore. He leaves... and sorrow follows.

Jaejoong does not give chase, for he must continue to watch... and wait. To wait until the calm dissolves... completely. Sympathy is far reaching. He will not worry for his brother. His brother will return.

Junki. He will surely return.

[/CONTENTID1]