Yoseob’s heart nearly stopped and his head spun as memories he’d never want to remember resurfaced. Visions of heavy hands pushing him down against cold concrete and the feel of stale, cigarette laced breaths filled his senses and yoseob felt his stomach lurch in discomfort. His breathing grew shallow as he recalled the touch of calloused hands tearing at his clothes and feeling him in places so sacred to him, his mind was screaming in agony. 

“I’m sorry I blamed you for it all,” came the soft spoken words, a tinge of loving sympathy lingering at the base of the voice, before the line went dead and the dialtone rang out, far too loud and piercing in the deafening silence.