When Sheila entered, she was shocked to see the state KyuHyun was in, but even more shocked to see he was not alone. Sitting on a chair, talking to her silent, bloody son, was Jeremy. He had a knife in his hand, and he was carefully carving something into the wooden chair next to KyuHyun’s lifeless form. Sheila could tell from the several cuts on her son’s visible skin that the wood was not the only thing he had carved on.

Bile rose up, as it always did when she saw blood. She walked, no, stumbled forward to the two men, falling to her knees before she could reach them. Her handbag thumped noisily onto the concrete ground, making Jeremy turn around. He smiled before getting up and walking to Sheila. He bent down slightly in front of her, pulling her up by one arm.

“Yes, come here, with a gun. I have someone I need to dispose of,” he said shortly into the phone, putting it away with his other hand.

Sitting her down on another chair Sheila had not seen before, he gestured toward their son.

“Like what I did?” he asked, an evil light shining darkly in his eyes.

“Why did you…” she barely managed to choke out the words before she was forced to close again. If she had not, she would have puked, right there and then.

“I like this one especially,” Jeremy said, as casually as though he was commenting on a painting and not cuts on his son’s face. He was holding KyuHyun’s left hand in his own, pointing to a blood stained palm.

“See how they cross in a star like formation? It’s quite interesting to me, actually, because I didn’t do that on purpose,” he continued.

“I got a call just now,” he said, as he lifted Kyu’s body and dropped it back on the chair. He tied him carefully to it, gagging him as well. Kyu’s head lolled against his chest, making Sheila's heart stop in her chest.

“Now I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer me truthfully,” Jeremy said, his voice going dangerously quiet.

“Who did you tell about this place?” he asked, flipping the blade.

“No one,” she whispered, still staring at her unconscious son horrified.

“Oh Sheila. Did you really think I wouldn’t know? That I wouldn’t find out? I’ll ask again. Who did you tell about this place?” he said, nearing her and wiping the blade on his dress pants. The bright red of the blood stained the material.

“No one I swear to you,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sheila. Please tell me the truth, because I won’t ask a fourth time. Just tell me whom you told about here. It’s not that hard,” Jeremy said, and though his voice aimed to be soothing, Sheila thought it must