it doesnât feel real. initial panic devolves into shock, and changsub distantly wonders if he somehow fell asleep at his worktable with too much taurine in his system, and this is part of some terribly realistic, frightening nightmare his energy-drink-riddled brainâs cooked up.
the sun has not yet risen, and the airconâs shut off overhead. the dead silence of the building only serves to make the scrambled words coming from the receiver sharper, like sanaâs own distress digging into his chest.
itâs impossible to get a word in edgewise or to really even make sense of what sheâs trying to say (if there is any sense to the little bits of the hell sanaâs been through that he can understand) Â â he says her name, repeats it, trying to get her to breathe; heâs already almost to the door, irrationally ready to go and find her himself, circumstances and consequences be damned â but then her voice, asking if heâs there.
âh-hello? sana â sana, iâm here ââ
a hand presses against the door, fingers clenched tightly. the timid inquiry is almost inaudible, and heâs overwhelmed with sudden helplessness â his voice breaks in an involuntary laugh, throat clenching tight. the phone is shaking in his hands as he checks the screen, the mute button clearly unmuted â his fingers slip right over the speaker button just in time for her wail to echo off the walls of his living room. his legs buckle under him.
(it feels like one of those nightmares then, doesnât it? with that same crippling feeling. the ones where something terrible is about to happen â the monsterâs closing in, your limbs are leaden; you open your mouth to cry out and your throat is swollen shut â but this nightmare is something special beyond what his subconscious is quite capable of conjuring, and thereâs no waking in a cold sweat here.)
âsana â sana, iâmâiâm here, itâs gonna be okay,â he says loudly, a shuddering inhale angled away from the speaker the only thing keeping his voice from entirely breaking; he cradles the phone close to his mouth and strains his ears to hear her.
heâs only answered by the angry, rapid beep of the call ending.
âno⊠no, no no-noââ
heâs fumbling with the keypad, typing in an emergency number even as heâs pushing himself back up on frustratingly unsteady legs, headed in the direction of the elevator with some vague idea of getting ahold of the foundation staff.
âyou have contacted incheon emergency services. what is your emergency?â
the operatorâs voice bounces off the elevator after an unbearably long pause â the small ping behind their voice is almost missed, but changsub hears and clicks open the notification â from sana. the message is⊠jumbled and its implications impossible to believe, but he knows the worse is best assumed.
[sent] im coming
[sent] if youre safe where you are stay there
[sent] im getting help
ââŠhello? what is your emergency?â
the silence is frightening. it is strange because it is not absolute and yet it isâ she knows that there are cries in the distance and she knows that outside of this room there remains a hell that she cannot bear. those children made for protection feed her this informationâ it is not sound, it is more of a feeling than auditory information, but these are things she knows are true.
it makes the silence more terrifying. without them she cannot hear, even in this roundabout way; she couldnât hear changsubâs voice, nor hansolâsâ her hearing has dissolved into an equivalent of haunting white noise, an invisible barrier that traps her, crushes the air from her lungs. she thinks sheâll suffocate; the rapid fluttering in her chest may signal that sheâs alive but all that means is that she can die, still. sheâs not deaf to the voice in her head, reminding her of such in constant repetition.
safety is secured in this roomâ the faith she puts in her creations surpasses even that of what she places in herself and others. but her hands curl against the one in her lap; he might as well be dead too, but she weakly attempts to shake him awake, as she had for quite some time earlier. just as earlier, she is unsuccessfulâ hansol remains unconscious, changsub remains far despite the promise in his messages, promises that she canât steady her fingers enough to respond to. the concept of âhelpâ and ârescueâ doesnât sink in the way it should, the way sheâd think it should.Â
her mind is haunted by âwhat ifâsâ and the traps of believing in them. the flashes behind her eyes when she squeezes them shut only remind her that each source of âhelpâ and ârescueâ has fallen to the monsters that lurk in the halls or have been lost to the shadows and out of her sight. she shakes her head, tries to dispel the thoughts, but they only get louder, more vividâ until she really canât breathe, slumped over the listless weight that she attempts to hold onto as if it could stabilize her.
it doesnât help. not for the moment and not for the time that comes after, time spent doing nothing but waitingâ doing the only thing sheâs capable of.
and in time, help does come. thereâs a priceâ there always is. she feels the sting of having to terminate her protectors in order to allow escape; had she been thinking in any capacity, she wouldâve realized that their sizes alone prevented them from coming with her, as sheâd carelessly thought. but can she be blamed for not thinking of logistics when her life was threatened so?Â
the contract sheâd made keeps her by hansolâs side until its conditions are metâ she doesnât know who it is thatâs carrying him, but she knows that she can trust them. she thinks that she can, and she clutches at their shirt like a lost child as she follows them to the exit. thoughtless, stumblingâ frequent stops made just so she can try to breathe. thereâs a buzz around her but words still donât breach throughâ sign language isnât something she understands too well, either. she follows signals and charades through streams of blood and broken bodies until she steps foot outside, greeted by the brightness of the morning as if can promise solace. it canât, and it doesnât.Â
but it confirms freedom, confirms that the hellish night has come to an endâ like that man had promised. that feeling sinks in as she stares dead-eyed at the sky, over the heads of the crowd and the bustling emts and paramedics. her grip on the one that had been leading her slackens, the next step forward bringing with it a sudden rush of vertigo and blurred surroundings.Â
whether a nearby pair of arms manages to catch her or she hits the ground, her consciousness is no longer able to tell.
