Ryeowook's POV

It’s this exact same feeling.

Silly of me thinking that it’d ever go away. Silly of me to think that I can ever run away. No. I can never. Trying with all my effort to push him away, to pry his fingers of me is useless. I’ve tried this so many times. As much as I struggle, all I get is another slap. Again and again.

“ing a married man!” Yesung’s loud booming voice echoes in the small cubicle. “I bet you like it don’t you, you piece of !”

Another slap. I wince but Yesung only takes this opportunity to hit me harder. His hands cup my face and he bites my lips hard. He trails rough and sloppy kisses down my throat, nipping at it once in a while. I try to push him away but he holds both my hand with and growls at me, looking at me straight in the eye. His eyes are red and watery and just like that I can tell that he’s drunk.

“I bet he likes ing you, doesn’t he? You must be so loose like a ing so that’s why he likes you, isn’t it?” Yesung pulls my hair.

“Come on, honey, you don’t know what a real is.” Yesung chuckles against my ears. “No worries, I’ll gladly remind you whose the man.”

Yesung hand’s run down my body and down to my pants, cupping my member hard. He starts ing my pants and for the life of me, I start struggling and pushing him away, fighting with all the strength I have left.

“Ryeowook!!”

It’s Kyuhyun! It’s his voice. Just hearing it, it makes me feel safe. He’s here and I know he’ll help me. He’s banging onto the door, pounding it with all his strength. Yesung turns from the door and then towards me, his frown turning into a smirk.

“I’m not done with you, you know.” Yesung slurs. “In fact, we’re just getting started. You know I love it when we have audiences.”

“KYU!!”

I’m screaming, I’m begging for Kyuhyun to help me. But the pounding on the door continues and he is still out there. Yesung shoves me against the wall and continue working on my pants.  I grab his hands but he sneers and push them away.

“Yesung, Yesung, please, don’t!” I beg. “Please!!”

“You ed a married man, baby.” Yesung says. “I’m sure you can do it again.”

The pounding on the door gets louder but still, Yesung doesn’t care. He’s kissing me like he owns me and he’s touching me everywhere. Blocking my mind, I choose to switch off. This is what I usually do. Yesung would come and find me in the middle of the night, whenever he’s drunk or exhausted from work and he’d hurt me like this. Forcefully taking me. I fight, I scream, I beg and I do everything but he’s stronger than me and even he knows that.

Instead, I just think of what I’m going to do after all of this. After I get to run away, I’m going to move far far away. Maybe I can ask for some money from my parents and move to Taiwan or maybe even Singapore. I can find a new work there, maybe this time a barista or a librarian. I am going to leave all of this behind. I just want to leave it all behind. Please.

Yesung succeeds in ing my dress shirt. He touches my body everywhere, scraping it with his sharp nail. He doesn’t care if he scars or bruises me, or if I bleed. He likes it even more. He gets turn on even more. His lips turn a smirk when his hand reaches down to pull down my pants. He moves so so slowly and the pounding on the door suddenly stops.

“L