The theme song: sᴀᴠᴀɢᴇ ʙʏ ʙᴀʜᴀʀɪ
When the judge pounded his gavel down onto his podium and the words guilty floated from his mouth, my heart sank into my stomach.
My knees buckled and I collapsed into my chair with my head in my hands. Tears escaped the corners of my eyes, cascaded down my arms, and hit the table below my nose.
My lawyer placed a hand on my shoulder, and I could hear my mother sobbing behind me.
The rage and sadness within me were too much to bear, but I had no choice except to stand and lay my wrists in front of me to feel the cold metal handcuffs wrap around to bind them.
“Dae,” my mother cried out to me.
I twisted around to see her nostrils reddened from wiping her nose against her coat sleeve and her cheeks dampened from raining tears.
Her greying black hair was pulled back in a ballerina bun at the top of her head. Crow’s feet wrinkled at the corners of her irritated green eyes, and a permanent scowl was more apparent with her frown.
“We will appeal,” she whispered.
I bit my lip and nodded, but I had no faith in the success of an appeal. I was a bad person. The evidence claimed I was guilty no matter how much I fought against it. An appeal would only dig my grave deeper, and I didn’t want to destroy my mother’s hope any further.
I followed the arresting officer through the courtroom with stringing, dried eyes.
My mother disappeared behind the closed doors, and reality found its way to curse me. I was lucky to not be accepted into an actual prison as I was given a deal to spend eight months in an inmate facility.
It was supposed to be a lesser sentence than a prison, but I had heard many stories of the events that would frequently transpire in the building.
It was mixed with the criminally insane but supposedly had different wards as it was primarily a rehabilitation center.
My chest pounded with anxiety as I reached a dimmed backroom of the courthouse with other inmates waiting to be transported to the facility.
Some had already been wearing prison colors from a previous stay at a correctional facility only to be transferred to the School of Misfits.
“This will sting,” a tall man with broad shoulders and a white lab coat spoke to me softly.
The identification that hung from his dress shirt pocket stated that he was a psychiatrist at the misfit facility.
Dr. Kim Seokjin.
His name would be branded in my brain.
He circled me cautiously as if he was waiting for me to make a hostile move toward him. It only made me wonder how many violent people he had spoken to in the process of the transfer, and how many of them acted out toward him.
I took a deep breath when he instructed, then a sharp pain vibrated at the back of my neck. I let out a small squeal and rubbed my skin with the sound of the handcuffs moving with my arms. A visible, medium-sized bump resided at my nape.
“What was that?” I asked as I watched him put away a syringe with a long needle.
“A tracker. It allows us to record all of the movements you make in our facility,” he responded as he scribbled a few things on his clipboard that had a small photograph of me in the corner.
It was a picture of my mugshot. My black hair was in severe disarray, a top bun messily falling from my crown. The bags under my eyes were dark, the colors of my eyes were dull and reddened, and my skin appeared grey and dry. My thin, pale frame was highlighted in bruises that were more apparent in the fluorescent lights of the room and the flash of the camera.
Seeing myself in such a mess made me uncomfortable. I shifted on my feet and cleared my throat before redirecting my attention back to the doctor.
“That serious, huh?” I chuckled.
Dr. Kim looked at me with pensive eyes and an unreadable expression. He appeared to be someone who would be easy to talk to, but his expression made me want to cower into a corner.
“Where you’re going, Ms. Ji, it’ll make you wish you went to prison.”
My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell if he only said that to scare me or if he was telling the truth.
I bit my lip and kept my head looking forward.
The room was silent other than the occasional sounds of feet shifting against the tile flooring and the wooden benches.
A throat cleared diagonally from me and I shifted my gaze over to the culprit.
A man with piercing brown eyes and monolid, high cheekbones, and a strong jawline stared back at me. His black hair was in a curly mess that grew outwards instead of downward. The dark strands covered his eyebrows and eyelashes, and the ends of his hair curled around his ears.
His slender yet moderately muscular frame adorned an orange jumpsuit that proclaimed him as an inmate that was being transferred from another cell.
His ankles were linked together with chained handcuffs, and a bar that was attached bound his wrists together.
He was the only one out of the entire group that had so much security around his body. It made me more interested in knowing why he would be considered more dangerous than anyone else.
He was unbelievably handsome, and he didn’t strike me as someone who’d commit a crime, let alone an offense bad enough to go to an imprisonment facility.
Although, the darkness that shadowed his eyes was enough to convince me there was a very good reason as to why he was waiting.
I kept his stare without faltering, and a small smirk that was barely visible lifted his face in amusement.
I raised an eyebrow to rival his smirk, and an intense atmosphere filled the air between us.
His teeth scraped along his bottom lip and his eyes squinted. He seemed to be attempting to figure me out, but I knew he was never going to find the answer that would satisfy him.
I jumped when Dr. Kim Seokjin clapped his hands together when he finished inserting trackers into the rest of the group.
“Alright. The busses are waiting. Everyone on this side of the wall sits on bus A,” he gestured to my side of the wall. “Everyone on this side sits on bus B.”
I glanced one last time at the mysterious stranger in front of me, and he met my eyes again.
His smirk had disappeared, but the corners of his eyes still held a type of amusement that charmed me. He proceeded to watch me until his lineup disappeared into the second bus, then I was next.
I’ll see him again, I thought.
However, no matter how fascinated he made me, I didn’t want to see him again.
Something about him spelled bad news, and I was not in the mood to fall back into the dark lifestyle that got me into the criminal system in the first place.
Even if it meant meeting a handsome stranger.
- All content is consensual.
- Also includes GirlxGirl.
- Very erotic story, but you’ll figure out why right away.
Talk of sensitive topics
- They are in a rehabilitation facility.
- Only conversations about abuse, suicide, etc.