A/N: I've updated a few times over the past few days so go back to LOG 13/14!

Another guard enters a few minutes after I get dressed. Jungkook gave me a black tshirt that hangs like a dress on me and striped boxers. Judging by the distinctive scent of spearmint and large sizes of the clothes, I can tell that these are Jungkook’s.

The guard leads me back to the room I was previously in. He does not question my red-rimmed eyes or dazed, forlorn expression as he locks my handcuffs and legcuffs again.

My body is weak with fatigue. Not only have I not eaten for days, I am still in shock over the events that transpired several minutes ago.

I was caught up in the moment. I got carried away.

It was only until after Jungkook left that all the emotions of guilt and hatred hit me again.

How could I forget all the heinous acts he has committed? The murder of my best friend, the vicious cruelty.

He stood by and watched as I was tortured by 4 Flames agents.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I do these things?

For the billionth time, my mind travels to Fei, Marge, and Baekhyun. When will they be done? When can I leave? If I stay here longer I’ll go absolutely crazy.

I close my eyes and will myself to go to sleep.

The door slams open and I look up. A group of agents has entered the room, led by...

Harris.

A cold, terrible feeling fills the pit of my stomach.

“There are two ways we could do this, Miss Hwang,” he barks. “You could tell me everything I need to know and I’ll give you an easy death. Or, you don’t have to comply with my interrogation, and you’ll be begging for me to kill you.”

“Where’s Jungkook?” I mumble.

Harris snaps his fingers, and a guard jams his hand into my solar plexus. I collapse over into the fetal position, gasping in pain. Suddenly, I feel a foot roll me over so that I am facing upwards.

“I ask the questions here,” he growls. “Now let’s start. Tell me everything you know about the operations of the Seven Stars.”

I close my eyes and brace myself.

    Harris was right.

    I was begging for him to kill me.

    Blood is spattered all around me. I cough and blood trickles out of my mouth.  

    The last few hours are a blur. I cannot remember anything but pure agony. Flashes of knifes, batons, gloves lined with metal studs. The unrelenting prayer that my death would come and end this hell.

    It must have been years- decades- until Harris finally snapped his fingers, a look of ire on his face.

    “So you want to do this the hard way,” he hissed. “How admirable. You haven’t given us any information this entire time. Most people don’t last an hour.”

    Chanyeol had sat me down back at the Seven Stars HQ and looked me straight in the eye.

    “At some point, you will be tortured there,” he stated quietly. “You need to know how to get through it.”

    I bit my lip. “How?”

    “Distraction.”

    “Be more specific.”

    “Here’s my tactic.” Chanyeol took a deep breath. “Picture a scene- the most perfect scene in the world. Think about that scene. Leave the place where you’re being hurt and enter that scene instead. Disattach.”

    I furrowed my eyebrows. “Does it really work? Can we practice?”

    “I’m not going to ing torture you,” Chanyeol breathed. “I can’t do that. When the time comes, though, just... remember what I said.”

    It worked, to some extent. It is impossible to completely disattach.

    But I had a scene.

    A pretty little French village, all colorful townhomes and blue canals and street shops. Like something out of a fairytale.

    A quaint pink house, right in front of the water. A golden retriever and the sound of bell peppers sizzling in a pan and a balcony with a hammock.

    Jungkook shouting at a soccer match on TV as I chatter away on the phone with Marcus. Facetiming Preet and showing him the gorgeous architecture of a steepled brick church. Surprising Kyungsoo and Joshua by suddenly visiting them in New York. Brunch with Jungkook at a little bistro while I make fun of him for not eating his vegetables. Showing my father and my stepmother around our house.

Delivering a daily harangue to Lina about why she’s too good for Yoongi. Taking day trips to visit Anna in Paris and being dragged away to the Eiffel Tower by Jungkook. Prank-calling Namjoon with Jungkook from an anonymous number. Sending Jimin pictures of elaborate French dishes just to make him jealous.

Debating Marge and Baekhyun over the newest developments in technology over a heated 3-way call. Offering to set up Chanyeol with a French supermodel (collapsing into hysterical laughter with Jungkook when he thinks I know a French supermodel).

Jungkook whispering that he loves me, over and over again, into my ear. Jungkook wrapping his arms around me tightly and never letting go.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Harris said in an ominous tone.

    He left.

    I have lost track of time in this place.

    I do not know how long I have been here. I do not know what is going on at HQ.

    Some faint notion has begun to dawn on me.

    Is it possible that they have abandoned me here?

    How long was it supposed to take to carry out this plan?

    My body is in perpetual pain, to the point where I feel numb to any additional blows inflicted upon me.

    The door unlatches.

    My eyes instinctively flicker open.

    Interrogation time.

    Instead of Harris barging in, however, it is Jungkook. No other agents. Just Jungkook.

    I swallow. A different kind of pain spreads through me.

    There are dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks are hollow and his face is pale.

    When he sees me, he stops in his tracks.

    “Ami,” Jungkook says softly, crouching down next to me.  

    His gaze slides over the deep gashes on my arms and legs. The dried blood and bruises on my face.

    I flinch when he touches me.

    “Don’t do this to yourself, Ami,” Jungkook murmurs. “Just answer the questions.”

    With difficulty, I speak.

    “You said... there are two types... of people,” I whisper hoarsely. “One who can kill someone... and another who can’t. You’re the first type, right?”

    “Ami-,”

    “Please, Jungkook,” I utter, staring up at him through dull, cloudy eyes. “Kill me.”

    I have never seen such a look of anguish on someone before Jungkook. His gaze is swimming with grief and sorrow. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. I stare at him expectantly, pleading silently.

    “Don’t, Ami,” he finally says in a thick voice.

    “Why?” My body heaves with a cough and I spit out more blood. “You’ve almost killed me so many times. Now, you actually have the chance to. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying you’ll do the whole time?”

    He is at an utter loss for words.

    “Before you kill me... there are a few things I have to say.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “4 years ago, Hansol was about to shoot you. I blocked him, but the bullet hit me instead.

    “Second,” I continue, forging on, even though Jungkook looks absolutely stunned. “I was planning on killing myself after all this was over, anyway. Dying here would just be speeding things up.”

    “And finally. I love you, Jungkook. That’s all. Please kill me.”

    He is crying. His shoulders are shaking with stifled sobs.

    I close my eyes.

    “After the fight ended in the Yohan building, 4 years ago, we were ordered to deliver full reports to the heads of the gang- our parents. I didn’t.” Jungkook’s voice is a faint whisper. “Instead, I went back up to Floor 21. There were teams cleaning up the carnage. I pushed straight past them and went to Marcus’ body. He was just lying there. I remember the exact look on his face- his eyes were closed, and his face was peaceful.”

    “I took Marcus’ body and a shovel and I drove to an empty field an hour away. It was 1 in the morning. I spent the rest of the morning digging Marcus’ grave. I didn’t have a casket or anything to put him. After I was done burying him, I gathered flowers growing in a thicket nearby. It was the middle of winter. Those flowers weren’t supposed to have survived. But there they were.”

    “And I held a funeral for him. I sang for him and I mourned for him. I planted the flowers at the head of his grave. I slept at the foot of his grave. I didn’t leave for days. Until they found me again. I returned several days later. The flowers were dead.”

    Tears are streaming down both my face and Jungkook’s face. I curl up and weep, for Marcus, for Jungkook. An indescribable pain grips me and no matter how hard I cry, it is not enough.

    “I’m so sorry, Ami,” Jungkook whimpers, his face buried in his hands. “I’m a monster.”

There is nothing more to say.

A/N: :/