❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 ❞
CHAPTERS “ 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “
The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of going to shower alone.
𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair) 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4.5 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: abuse ,very violence, , sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage, muscles, oral innuendo, insults, ANGST, painful memories.
“What are you looking for, honey?” His question resonates with a hidden grace. The crooked smile that characterizes him so much is raised beneath his mouth. I wake up from the floor causing the mattress to rumble when I release it. His elbow rests against the door knock in a relaxed manner. A red dial catches my attention in the palm of your hand. Squeeze a ball of what appears to be foam rubber while bowing my head to analyze my concern. My legs tremble in the darkness that shines in his black pupils. He caught me and I and he know it perfectly.
"Nothing." I defend myself from his accusation through a quick groan. "I thought you might need something and I came to find you."
"Aha." He hums as he throws and picks up the ball.
Then, I turn to the bed and point to the tumult of sheets.
"I have entered and I have seen that the quilt was sticking out. As you know, it is a serious fault not to make the bed well."
I cower before his gleaming eyes and for that reason I am not able to keep his eyes.
"I can't stand the lies, you know?" He rebuffs through a whispering record that completely obscures any external sound. With a push he leaves the wall sliding in front of me with skill. His fingers are framed in my chin to connect our eyes. That movement that he seems to like when he is near me only makes me vibrate with anguish. His eyes map all the details of my face as if he wanted to memorize my imperfections. It doesn't seem to bother him that he sneaked me into his room or I'm just sinning silly and looking at me like that because he's taking his time to think how strong his shame will be. Otherwise, at the moment that one of his fingers detaches from my chin and goes up to stroke my lower lip I get an involuntary gasp. His gesture leaves an overwhelming heat on my cheeks. But when he takes off his lips by releasing a small click later, the heat is completely removed from my face. "But do you know what he fucks me the most?" That liars continue to lie even knowing that they have been caught.
"Thirte-en." I whisper.
But his finger clenches my lips hitting the overture of my mouth. It doesn't hurt me it's just a simple pressure.
"Shh, shut up." He purrs like a child when he gets excited when they buy him a new toy. And although it hurts to admit it, I was his toy. Because I could handle my emotions with just one look. His smile extends to his entire face, it transmits me so much malice that I introduce saliva almost out of necessity. I try to get away from his body when he steps forward but his fingers on my face don't let me. It's gone. And I can't understand how it can seem so sane at the same time. Our closeness also helps me to analyze in greater depth the features of his face. He has a prominent nose that widens when something bothers him and wrinkles when he smiles. I don't know how I know that I just know that I know. Sliding through his other features I look feverishly at the strength of his cheekbones and on his sharp chin, going up a little more I find a small scar on my left cheek. A mole under his lower lip causes me curiosity, a part of me wants to stretch a finger and squeeze it but obviously I hold back because it's not appropriate. A lock of her dark hair is splitting her face in two. His hair seems to offer a breathtaking softness to the naked eye. I hate myself when thoughts of touching and tangling my hair shake my mind. His fingers are diverting the pressure until my neck is caught. He pushes with the back of his hand and I take a step in response, I don't know why my feet heed his demands but an itchy trance leaves me at his mercy. I faint when I bow my head, our noses rub against each other but at the moment I try to be aware of what is about to happen.
The metallic sound against the bars makes you turn your head immediately.
"Hey." Greets that sinister redhead. I feel his fingers tighten under my neck until he releases me. He seems upset about the interruption inexplicably. I am whipped terribly by guilt. What the hell had crossed your mind, Blair? "I don't interrupt anything, right?"
Does it? I frown at my mental question.
“What the hell do you want?” The sharp tone that jumps down his throat leaves me freezing. The redhead smiles nervously before entering the room completely. He knows he's upset. What he does not intuit is that it is not precisely because of him. I notice how the veins of his wrists dilate when he places his hands on his waist while waiting for an explanation.
"I come to give you what I told you." He explains with some gentleness towards the highest. Unified in a single thirteen eyebrows and lips when you hear it. Everything makes sense the moment he lifts his shirt and pulls out an envelope from underneath. Pale instantly because I remember the main problem. Thirteen's back muscles squeeze when they tense for unexplained reason. I observe in profile how his sharp jaw rises, what I can't figure out is whether it is because he feels anxious or too upset. His adam nut dances by his neck as soon as he receives the brown paper package in his hands. Suddenly, the redhead delights in my body in a quick tour.
"Thirteen ..." I beg.
"Shut up." He mutters neutrally. He then gives provisional attention to the redhead. The steps that I have advanced to approach him I have discarded as soon as my ears have roared from his low shout. His tattooed fingers open the envelope and take out a bundle of money. He drops the paper on the floor and starts counting ticket by ticket, which the one in front doesn't like.
"Come on, Thirteen. Don't you trust me?"
The nominee observes him in an overwhelming way, he is silent immediately. When he finishes counting it, he matches the bills on his bedside table.
“Do you see everything?” Affirms that chilling man. His perverse look seeks to meet mine, and he does when he stopped looking at the ground. I am so repulsed by the sticky movement his tongue makes on his lower lip. He gave a hoarse sob when he looked away. He wrinkled his disgusted nose. What I can't know is whether the redhead or the one who hasn't stopped looking at me since I've sat on an empty bed.
"Do not."
Like lightning, I turn my neck to look at him. The redhead opens his mouth in a toothless smile.
“How not?” It sounds calm but I know from the force that clenches his fists that he is not at all. And I can't be glad for it anymore.
"No. You lack interest for the late one week."
The redhead hides a howl by clenching his lips, however, in the end he ends up declining.
"Fuck, okay." He sighs, stopping any incipient so that the character of the chestnut rebentates. "How much is it?"
Thirteen moves his jaw slightly when he moves the bone to the right. Then, bite the inside of the cheek thoughtfully. It is at that very moment that his pupils contract to their normal state and he dedicates me some eternal seconds that leave me breathless before he makes his proposal.
"Thousand more."
“You're fucking me!” Roars the indignant redhead. And despite his deaf tone Thirteen does not move even a span. The redhead returns to his main position and chooses to calm down, then he smiles, appeasing the situation. "Come on, go." Take the two thousand five hundred. You and I know that this bitch is not worth that much.
I open my mouth in an offended exhale but I can't convey my disgust because Thirteen raises his palm in my direction forcing me to shut up instantly.
"What I want will be worth it." And if I tell you that the price has risen to a thousand more you pay it or you will have to learn to breastfeed it on your own.
"You are a son of a bitch." Braying takes two steps to glue their foreheads. Although the redhead has a couple of centimeters more than him, Thirteen does not seem to feel cowed by the rabid look that his opponent casts. In conclusion, it does not seem to give it enough importance because when he hears a soft growl from the highest he expresses a crooked smile.
"Thank you. And now out of my fucking sight you make my day bitter.
He gives me a mini-heart attack when the redhead raises a fist in the direction of Thirteen. But he doesn't finish his act, he leaves it in suspension. He grunts and increases the distance walking backwards. Because he realized that it is not a good idea to get into a fight with him. Because, despite the fact that his constitution seems strong it does not amount to the strong limbs that Thirteen marks on his shirt. He was at a clear disadvantage, so giving him one last look he added:
"This is not going to stay that way. I'm going to talk to Hong Kong."
The appearance of another subject in the conversation seems to tense him but he regains his composure. His nose widens and his lips part in a snap. His teeth crush inside his mouth and the vein in his neck becomes more noticeable. I am so surprised by his body's self-control because I can imagine his desire to kill the redhead when I start to admire his clenched fists. Without much more to say, he leaves the cell. The air seems thicker because of the tension that builds up on it. The door has been observed as the only hobby.
"Thank you," he murmured. My voice seems to bring it to the reality of a stupid. It blinks confusedly towards my body set apart in a corner.
“What?” “It's not a question, it's a statement of his bad character. He raised his eyebrows in response to his hoarse sigh. His feelings seem like a Macedonian of bewilderment and surprise. And then I realize something. Judging his neutral expression is not very difficult to conclude that he never or almost never thanks him. But of course, I always judge him too quickly. "Why the hell do you thank me?"
"Well you..."
“Me what?” He adds between breaths of breath. He seems more than annoyed with my attitude, as if doing a humanitarian act had only served him to feel a great bitter taste in his mouth. To my surprise, he lets out a hoarse laugh that intersperses with a gasp. "Do you think I've done it to protect your little pussy?"
He wrinkled his nose disgusted by his so rough vocabulary.
"No, bitch. He has paid me two thousand dollars just for you to eat his cock. This is not for you, it is for me. But let me tell you that as soon as he pays me the thousand more I am going to give a shit how rough it is. You will have your jaw left later. "Savoring your inner lip in anticipation of receiving another batch of bills. I release air through my nose. How could I think that this being can do something good for others? My suspicions have just confirmed my hypothesis, Thirteen has no heart and from what I can see it seems not to matter. I can't control the anger that runs through my veins, my eyes move to theirs alone. I finish it. I despise him with all my strength. A wry smile springs from my lips because I'm also anticipating how much I'm going to fuck you. Thirteen. Just wait.
"Bitch, your mother will be."
He approaches furiously towards me in rapid strides. He places his forearm on my neck and stamps me against the wall. In a rapid movement my feet stop touching the ground because it has slipped me up. I open my mouth exaggeratedly to catch air for my needy lungs. I raise my hands and start hitting his arm. The vein in your neck cannot be more dilated. Blood accumulates in the area of my head due to the pressure of his arm that acts as a plug for my arteries. I cough innumerable liters of saliva and close my aching eyes. I feel his breathing in my ear before a scream overflows my eardrum.
"In your fucking life, talk about my mother again!"
Although it is too much fear that blocks me I open my eyes when I hear his pain. I close them again when more pressure is applied. If not, I will pass out.
"Maybe, your mother is a slut, right? Of course, that's why you're so bad-spoken and you lack the sense of respect. I bet your father was a good person that you fucking and vulgar mother seduced. Sure, in how much the pregnancy had to take care of you. Poor man and fucking whores. "
I really wanted to answer. Tell him that everything was false and not even close. Telling him that my father was a drunk Ludopata who beat my mother every night and when he didn't, he was unloaded with me. What else I would have liked to shout at her the shitty life I had to keep mocking her. But I had to retain the possible oxygen for my own survival.
"That's not ..." I was attracted when I coughed.
In the background, the maniacal laugh of Thirteen was heard. My eyes began to close and my arms fell heavily. I could not do it anymore. The last burst of air I had left was squeezed from my mouth when I said the last sentence. The last thing I heard were a few steps and a familiar voice. Then I fell to the ground.
I squeezed my eyes when the receptors in my pupils caught too much light. Still with the blurry sight I walked the place where I was lying. I glanced down and the first thing I saw was that a blanket covered me and a tube was embedded in my arm. I reached out to touch the small clip that caught my finger to measure the vital signs. I didn't know that place but everything pointed out that it was the jail infirmary. Who will have brought me? Was it the voice I heard before falling into darkness? I try to straighten but a puncture in the column of my neck forces me to stop. When I groan, a nurse appears with a worried smile.
"Try not to move much." He gently advises while jogging around me. The pink folder that catches his right hand is shaken with skill as he writes about it. Then he puts it in a metal tray and looks at me sighing. "It hurts, right?"
Seat.
"Who ..." My voice sounds too hoarse and weak.
"A blond boy."
I am perplexed. It was Jimin.
"I'm going to give you a receipt to give to the principal, okay honey?" You already know to be absent from your homework these days and have a liquid diet. You still have inflamed muscles. "
"How long have I been?"
"Oh, you've been unconscious for three days." When he replies, I shrink in bed. My eyes shoot in random directions through the vein of nervousness that stifles my conscience.
A few knocks on the door attract the attention of the nurse.
"Miss Dorotea, I have finished ordering the ibuprofen boats." An especially familiar voice triggers all my alarms. My neck acts as a pier when it rises to observe the brown-eyed smile. The nurse gets up from my stretcher to receive him. Then, the chestnut realizes my presence but avoids my gaze. I feel confused at the time that scratches his neck uncomfortable to have two pairs of eyes watching him closely. He doesn't look like the same guy who slipped my body a few days ago when he made my way to the cell difficult. He just looked like a normal boy who was ashamed of so much attention.
"Oh, thank you very much Taehyung but there is nothing else you can do." A hand drops his folder and points to me subtly. "As you can see I will be busy with a patient. You can go back to your cell."
Without more than telling the nurse surrounds his large body and gets into a door that I guess is the doctor's. An embarrassed throat makes him look back at the chestnut. The surprise is reflected in the widening of my eyes when I perceive a pink hue on her cheeks.
“How are you?” His whisper comes out under his lips. And I can't tell if it's because of nervousness or just his usual tone of voice.
I raise a stunned eyebrow.
"Are you asking me?"
Taehyung shrinks his stomach when he hears the weakness of my voice. Nods in a short nod.
"Why do you want to know?" Thirteen sent you. ”I click my tongue even though my throat hurts. Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off with a snore. "Well, tell him thank you so much for drowning. And that I regret it a lot, I'm still alive ..."
"He does not..."
"What?" I shout, but I regret it when I feel an intense prick in the column of my neck. "If you're going to justify the shit of a friend you have, please, get out."
"Not me." But he presses his lips. He seems to want to avoid giving me reason and that makes me feel a little better even though I physically want to pull a bridge. I see sincerity in his eyes. Melancholy bathes his masculine features as if he wanted to apologize to me that he knows I will not thank. "I will not justify what Thirteen did because I disagree." I am not a violent person I love to talk.
"Tell the boy you broke his hand with a bat."
My words seem to disarm any argument in their favor. In response, it gives me an overwhelmed sigh. My damaged instinct tells me that this boy is not as bad as he makes everyone believe, that he is left with the ruthless adjective for going with whom he goes.
"Sometimes, you have to do things you don't like to survive." That guy was a son of a bitch and not because he gave us money but because he was devoted to everyone. Don't think that seeing him so broken on the ground was weaker than us. Appearances are deceiving, believe me I know better than anyone. "
The unbearable squeak of electric doors rumbles inside my head. Upon entering my shared cell, Dallas throws his magazine to the bed and stands up suddenly. I dodge his worried look. My arms hang as I head towards my resting place. I move my back to adjust a good position on the mattress. Then, I raise my eyes to Dallas, who watches me from afar with his frown. I can not decipher the enigma of his gaze, I sense that he is upset because he does not stop looking at the big red marks on my neck.
“Who did that to you?” The question springs like a patient whisper. I roll my eyes at his false curiosity. My tooth catches my lip and then slowly releases it. When he directs a look full of anger towards his position, his back stretches.
"Come on, come on. Are you going to tell me you don't know?" My husky voice comes on the scene when it hits my throat irritation. I sit on the edge of the bed to better observe his confused reaction. I'm probably being that effusive because of the lack of sleep, I really don't recognize myself. Apparently, my uncontrolled anger also surprises her, I notice it in the opertura of her eyes. "Hasn't your boyfriend told you anything?"
“What does Jimin have to do with this?” For a single moment I doubt if he was really pretending or just didn't know anything about it. He spoke with so much confusion that he almost made me fall into the trap of his deception. Your little angel face won't converge on me. I grudge with my tongue dramatically as I put my hands on my knees and thus stand up. Shortening the distance that separated us only to see my disastrous marks better.
"Your boyfriend's friend almost drowned me the other day."
"Thirteen?"
I bow my head lost because of his so surprised tone. It seems as if he didn't believe what he had just heard, as if it were just an imaginary account that made no sense. God, I really didn't understand these people. It seems that this subject is a compulsive aggressive being, it should not surprise you so much to know that he was the culprit.
"Why?"
Your question overcomes my patience.
"Why?That psycho tried to kill me against a wall!"
Dallas raised his eyebrows after my statement. But there was something else in his paralyzed expression, something hidden that hid a deep secret. For the first time in the whole conversation when I looked for his gaze he avoided me. Turning his head toward the door, he suddenly ran away. I was surprised by his impulsive act, I leaned on the sides of the entrance and then, I knew who I was looking for when I stopped to ask one of the many women who were walking through the leisure area of our module. He disappeared shortly thereafter through the big yellow doors. Without knowing very well why, I ran down the stairs and tried to follow in the footsteps. I found her opening the patio door with too much force. The irons hit the wall when they collided with aggressive impulses. Shrugging my entire body, I decided to reach her in a small race.
I don't go out to the patio full body, I just settle in the door. Dallas walks with great strides towards a group of men. I recognize Jimin's silver color from my position. I think he's going to ask for explanations, but as soon as the blond approaches, she lifts his palm, stopping him. Then, I realize who your true objective is.
“Thirteen!” Her scream sounded so loud that the crowd of men immediately looked at her. Determined not to be intimidated, she placed herself in front of Thirteen. He swept his confused body. He furrowed his characteristic eyebrows while rolling his eyes. Finally, he separated his mouth with allusion and watched her annoyed. "We have to talk. Now."
Thirteen put his big hand on his knee, letting his elbow stand out. Imagine his dilated veins marked along his arm. I bow my head while raising an eyebrow.
"I'm playing cards, go with your temper tantrums elsewhere, girl." In a deep growl he declared his unwillingness to pay attention. He shook his head to the side to signal him to leave. Dallas stayed in place, surprisingly. Something that particularly caught my attention were two black bags under his dark eyes. He looked tired and with little patience. I deeply hope that he has not been able to sleep because of the regrets of his actions.
"Either you come with me or our conversation is done in public." Far from looking like an order, it seemed more like advice. The chestnut stopped observing the wad of letters from the bank and watched her furiously. Dallas crossed his pale arms as he raised his chin. Surprisingly, Thirteen got up. The remarkable height that the chestnut possessed did not intimidate her. Taking the audacity to wrap his wrist to pull him away from curious spectators. My body shakes abruptly when I see them heading towards my direction. In an inhuned speed I undo my way and hide in one of the many corners of the hall. With my chest agitated by the race, I pray that they will take the road to the cafeteria and not to the library.
"Release me, fuck." I recognize his angry tone when the door closes tightly again. My eyes look at the sides of the wall to my right. A door slams shut in a dull sound. I frown when I stop listening to his footsteps and voices. I take my head around the corner and see the deserted hallway. They cannot have disappeared from nowhere. I leave my hiding place too contrary to physical laws.
Low screams inside the cleaning closet make my head turn sharply. These sites should have more security. Recognizing their faces through a window of slits exposed above the door. I approach and he stood on tiptoe, they move their mouths so fast that I can barely understand what they say.
"You are the shame of the family." His comment leaves me breathless. I cover my mouth to cover an involuntary gasp. Thirteen looks sideways while placing both hands on his waist. His black bangs cover the reaction of his eyes, I can only see the movement of his mouth when pressed with pure irony.
“And when I haven't been?” His question comes camouflaged from something I understand as contempt. He shakes his head to observe her for a few seconds, his bloodshot eyes would intimidate even the fiercest of the jail, however, Dallas does not seem to affect him. His habit of dealing with such reactions leaves me speechless. There is something in the lack of brightness in his eyes that screams immense pain. He has his shoulders curled forward as if an abujero full of memories absorbed him until he was destroyed.I had never seen him so weak, and I am pleasantly surprised that he shows so much confidence with a girl that he is not supposed to have a relationship.
Wait a minute, he said it's his ...
Dallas's expression softens a little when he perceives the sadness that Thirteen shows.
“Why did you do it, Jungkook?” Calm down, he slowly denies his direction. He addressed, this time, with more tact and caution but without neglecting that reproving side. Thirteen closes his eyes when he hears his real name. He squeezes them in pain before looking at her with something that seems to be regret. I do not recognize him. As much as I try to see that lunatic psychopath I can't compare them. This boy seems to be a person who has suffered innumerable consequences, and not a murderer who seeks satisfaction in the pain of others. Was he the one Taehyung was referring to? "Are you becoming him ..."
"Don't you dare to compare me with him! I warn you, Lucy, don't do it again!" He shouts so loudly that even the door rumbles. There is so much anguish in his growl, so much pain. There is disgust reflected in his eyes. I don't know who Dallas would be referring to, but of course, he has a very strong influence on Thirteen.
"Then stop behaving like a damn abuser and be my brother again." There is anguish in his request. A despair so alarming that it leaves me frozen. Thirteen does not look at her. He tries to stay isolated from the world, but what he doesn't know is that his body betrays him. His broad chest rises and falls in coordinated movements while his pearly forehead shines with sweat. He is nervous. Very nervous.
"I'm not your brother, Lucy," he says, after a long distressing silence. My stomach shrinks when he directs his gaze to hers. The moisture that sprouts from your eyes is a reflection of the struggle that is suffering internally. Dallas bites his trembling lip to prevent a gasp from coming out of his mouth. "I couldn't even protect you ..."
His voice broke.
"What happened in the past was not your fault."
Lucy took a step toward her direction. His small hand touched his shoulder to turn it over. The muscles of his back tensed coldly at the touch. Thirteen waved his arm back and jerked away to a corner.
"Blair?"
✞
NEXT
