"How does she kill, then? She's an assassin, and one that's deathly afraid of drawing blood. How does she even kill a target?"
"I kill for her."
In which an assassin is terrified of spilling blood.
The moment our lips touch, it's like a nuclear explosion in my mind, wiping every one of my thoughts clean.
I'm transported into an ethereal garden, filled with so many types of flowers I lose count after a while. The entire sky is covered with vines with beautiful lilies weaved into them. And in the center of the garden, there's a door, lit up in the warm rays of sunshine.
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It's surface is painted so realistically that at my first glance, I simply think it's an open passageway. But after my body hits the firm wood, only then I realize it's a painting.
I expect something beautiful and amazing behind the door as I open it- after all, how can anything ugly be behind such a fascinating entrance?
But that day, I learn it the hard way that appearances can be deceiving.
The moment I open the door, I'm surrounded with such darkness it sucks my body in like a black hole. It's so pitch black my eyes can't even adjust to the darkness, which meant I had lost my ability to see.
Then the darkness is gone in an instant, like a snap of a finger.
A setting paints out in front of me, the shades so realistic that I can't help but think it's not a simple painting, but reality itself.
The scene shows a police officer holding down V, who seems to be resisting to him. He seems to be younger in this memory, possibly fourteen or even younger than that.
But in the end, they shove him into the police car and take him to an interrogation room. After much resistance, V is finally handcuffed to a table, facing a police officer who seems to be furiously typing into a computer. The room the two are in is dim, with only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Name." The officer speaks with a stoic tone, ignoring V's jagged, murderous stare. By the way his eyes trail over his neck, he really looks like he wants to rip his head off and throw it to the vultures to feast on.
"Kim Taehyung."
"Age."
"Twelve."
Only twelve? I'm so taken aback I almost miss the next part of the scene.
"Parents."
"I don't have things like that."
A pang of sadness rings in the back of my mind. I can't imagine how someone can grow up without the love of their parents, and having only themselves to depend on. I can't imagine the sense of insecurity someone might have, having to constantly battle against life itself.
"Let's get to the point, boy. I can see here you have a bad, bad history for a kid as young as yourself. Assaulting a fully grown man with a knife at the age of eleven? Setting fire to a man's house just because he didn't give your friend some food? You've done some very terrible things, and you're only twelve."
That must have been Jungkook. My heart warms at the young V for all those things he's done, no matter how violent and cold blooded those actions were. There's no doubt that he set the man's house on fire because the owner mistreated and abused Jungkook, and V had seen it happen.
V's lips purse tightly in the memory as the man lists off a few more crimes he's done, among many others. All of them revolve around Jungkook, and my love for him grows even stronger.
"Get to the point."
The man looks up, his face chilly at the younger boy's cold words, with an icy tone to go with it.
"Very well then. You need to tell me where your friend is hiding right now. We found traces of him near the place you were residing in. Jungkook, was it?"
V's face shows no change, his expressions giving nothing away at the officer's manipulative questions.
Finally, after hours of no response from the younger boy, the police officer blows out a frustrated breath, clasping his fingers together tightly.
"Look here. You can make this easy for me and you, or you can just make this harder for everybody else. We will get the info out of you one way or another, and we don't want to hurt you, unless you make us do so."
V's face tightens, but he says nothing. I don't realize that my body has tended to the point where I'm about to snap. I know what they're going to do to him- torture. They clearly know that that's against the law- yet they're still choosing to inflict pain on a twelve year old boy.
The memory disappears, fading into the darkness. Another one replaces the place where the scene used to be.
In this memory, V is covered in blood from head to toe, and I immediately gag at the sight. I'm only glad it's not realistic enough, because it would have me rolling on the ground with violent seizures.
The same police officer shakes his head at the boy, who is at the brink of fainting. His breath comes out a ragged gasp every time he inhales and exhales. My fists curl unconsciously beside my side as I watch the scene unfold.
"You're persistent, aren't you? Damn, I need to give you some credit- you're stupidly loyal to your friend." The officer grabs V by the collar as he pushes up the weak boy against the walls. "I can tell that your a smart boy. Wouldn't it just be easier to spill Jungkook's location? We'll let you go free the moment you do."
V stares at the man for a semi second- and a vicious glow sparks in his eyes. I know that glow. It's the one he gets when he's about to attack.
And he does.
He drives his hand into the man's chest- and an inhuman sound comes out of the grown man's lips. Then I see the blood slowly drenching the front of his uniform- V had acquired a small knife from the officer's belt and had stabbed him with it.
Once V gets his hands on his victim, he doesn't give it any chance to fight back.
Within a second, he has plunged the knife into the man's throat, and the policeman goes still. Blood spurts everywhere, and he slides down the wall, staring at the dark red liquid on the pale skin of his hands.
Skies.
I feel a sudden urge to comfort him- but when I reach out to touch the surface of the memory, my hand goes through it, like there wasn't anything separating me and him in the first place.
My eyes are wide and my mouth open from surprise, but when V struggles up to his feet with his bloody hands around the knife, I snap back into reality.
"Tae."
"Who are you? How did you just come through the walls like that?"
Suspicion and shock clouds his dark eyes, so mature yet so innocently young at the same time. He doesn't deserve any of this. Why did he need to walk such a bloody, dark path?
"Talk to me!" He yells, drawing his knife protectively over himself. The blade sparkles dully with a dark coating of blood, reflecting the heavy blue in his eyes.
Then I realize why I've been staring up at V for the past minute, and why my voice had sounded so childish when I had spoken his name.
No way.
I'm back to when I was ten.
"Who are you, and how do you know me?" He repeats, and he angles the knife at me so the point it's clearly aimed at my thin neck. His point is crystal- he's going to skewer me like a lamb if I don't give him what I want.
