When Arashi and his partner come for Seungri the next time, he wasn't in any condition to offer even the slightest resistance.

For the past several seconds, or minutes, or hours, or even days – he couldn't even attempt to hazard a guess as to how much time had passed – he had lain on his side with his arms wrapped firmly around his head and with his eyes tightly closed. Neither action made any difference to the intensity of the light and noise – but Seungri had now been pushed beyond the limits of his endurance.

He would have given anything to make it stop – just, please stop. Unbeknownst to Seungri, he had taken to muttering that desperate plea out loud. And that was when Arashi and his partner returned.

There were no theatrics this time – no threats and certainly no gunfire. In fact, Seungri didn't even hear them enter his cell. The first he knew of their presence was when his arms were grabbed and, a moment later, he was once again restrained by the handcuffs.

"No more…" Seungri moaned – not even aware that he was speaking out loud. To him, the words only existed in his head; along with the noise that had been, in reality, a long time silenced – but was by now reverberating never-endingly around his skull.

"Ready to fess up, killer?" Arashi smirked.

Seungri barely even heard him and was totally oblivious to the fact that he was staggering – almost falling – in the grip of the two men.

His eyes burned, his head throbbed and the noise – those damning, accusatory words – wouldn't leave him alone.

Almost falling into the chair the moment he was close to it, Seungri closed his eyes. The lights in the interrogation room were nowhere near as dazzling or as painful as those in his cell.

He had less than a second of blessed relief. Then pain erupted in his cheek and his head was rocked violently to one side. He cracked his eyes open – and then recoiled away from the sight of Arashi standing almost nose to nose with him.

"You think I brought you here to let you sleep? Guess again." Arashi sneered. He tapped his palm against Seungri's already aching cheek – though with considerably less force this time. "Drink," he commanded.

A cup was put to Seungri's mouth and he automatically opened his lips. Dehydration was a new discomfort that he had only just identified.

Seungri drink the water, no longer even giving thought to the danger of it probably being drugged.

Seunghyun stand in the kitchen when he hear the low murmur of voices from their living room – and when he heard his aunt Gain gasp "Oh my God!" he know that his father had told her about his younger brother.

He didn't want to join as to give the two siblings some privacy. He also wanted to give his aunt the time to compose herself – to deal with her grief and shock in her own way; just as they were all doing.

And then the phone ring.

"Now talk." Arashi took the cup from Seungri's lips and placed it back onto the table.

"What..?" Seungri wasn't sure exactly what was expected of him. His head was fuzzy – through lack of sleep; through drugs; through psychological torture; or through a combination of all three. He didn't know which.

A hand slammed down onto the table, causing Seungri to flinch – and then Arashi’s partner was in his face as well: "Talk!" he yelled.

"I don't…" Seungri's head lolled, suddenly feeling too heavy for his neck to hold up. He was rewarded with another stinging slap. His senses honed back towards sharpness – and then almost instantly drifted away again. "What do you want me to say?"

"Confess." Arashi barked out the command.

Seungri let his eyes close again – knowing what it would bring, but needing the pain to help him hold onto some sort of focus. The expected blow rocked his head to the other side this time – and he tasted blood in his mouth.

A small part of him relished it.

"It was an accident!" Seungri cried out – trying to hold on to the conviction that his brother had somehow managed to instil in him. "I didn't…"

"What? Kill her?' Arashi roared back, grabbing Seungri by the collar of his jumpsuit and pulling him half out of the chair. "You did. You couldn't control the car. You crashed it and you killed your mom." He Seungri back into the chair. "Drink!" he ordered, again.

This time, Seungri tried to twist his head away as the cup was put to his lips. But he was weak and hurt and had very little left in the way of resistance. It didn't expend much of Arashi's energy to keep his head still and even force his mouth open.

Even as Seungri coughed and spluttered, as the tainted water was poured down his throat, Arashi never relented for a second.

"I'm not a killer. Even your own father would tell you that." Arashi goaded at him. "Should we call him? Should we?" He pulled a cellphone from his pocket. "Should we call him, Yang Seungri?"

"No!" Seungri couldn't help his reaction. Arashi – and, most likely, his drugs – had him confused and thinking in circles. And that word: Yang Seungri. Even when his captor said it, he heard his dad's cold tone. Yang Seungri.

"No?" Arashi smiled, cruelly. "And why wouldn't you want to talk to him? Are you afraid? Are you scared he'll tell you that I've never taken a life? Are you more afraid of a pause – of a slight hesitation – which might suggest that, while I've never killed, he knows that you have?"

Seungri hitched in a breath, trying to fight back a sob. He failed. Grief blindsided him with a sudden and ferocious intensity and there was only one thought – one truth – he could hold onto: his mom was dead. A second thought crept up on the heels of that one: she was in the car with you and now she's dead.

He dropped his head onto his chest and began to cry. He didn't look up and so didn't see the triumphant look in Arashi's eyes – and nor did he see the satisfied glance that he exchanged with his partner.

They had to practically drag him back to his cell.

Seunghyun run for the telephone but, surprisingly, it was his aunt Gain who beat him to it. Snatching her arm free from her brother's grip, she strode over to the offending object and lifted the receiver.

All them held their breaths – expecting some kind of a tirade, but Gain never even said a word. tightened and her eyes hardened but then she simply hung up.

Almost immediately, it began to ring again.

Seunghyun took a decisive step forwards, but her hand was still hovering over the receiver.

"Let me do this." She speak to her brother. "You need to go and…" She trailed off.

"Gain…" Hyunsuk tried to intervene.

"Please. You need to go and do what you need to do." Tears were standing out in her eyes, but there was no waver to her voice. "Find Seungri. Find the man who… who killed …" Even as she spoke, she scowled down at the still ringing telephone. Then she lifted the receiver, listened for a few seconds and then hung up again.

"Aunty…" It was Seunghyun's turn to try – but she never gave him the chance to put his objections into words.

"Please." Her tough demeanour was gone in that simple endearment – one Seunghyun could never remember hearing before; but also one that made him inwardly smile. "Let me help. I'm not stupid…"

"I know you're not.".

"I can transfer a call to you if it's important," Gain pressed relentlessly onwards. "And if it's those bloodthirsty newshounds…" Her shoulders stiffened. "I know how to hang up a telephone."

"Yeah, Gain, you do." Hyunsuk let a grieving smile at his sister.

When they Seungri back into the cell, neither Arashi nor his partner took the time to remove his handcuffs. The lights were on, but the noise was silenced – and, for a long time, Seungri remained where he was: on his knees just inside the cell door.

He closed his eyes.

And the noise blasted out again.

Sudden rage overtook Seungri and he surged to his feet. It didn't matter that his hands were still cuffed behind his back.

He kicked at the bars, not caring that it bruised his bare feet; he shoulder-charged the cell door again and again, ignoring the pain that shot through him on each impact.

But it did nothing to help precipitate his escape- didn't even make a dent in his prison. All it did was increase his pain and force him to realise that there was nothing he could do to help himself.

His rage expending as quickly as it had arisen, Seungri collapsed back onto his knees.

Then, to add to his inherent misery, the noise was suddenly cranked up another notch – but now the words weren't random. They were insistent and incessant:

Killer, murderer. Killer, murderer.

Killer, murderer. Killer, murderer.

Killer, murderer. Killer, murderer.

And this time they didn't stop.

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