Sunday, August 30th, 2018. (My POV)
Eat… sleep… abuse… repeat. That’s what life had become. For almost a year, this cycle had been my reality. He provided food, shelter, money – necessities. Even as I internally crumbled, staying with him felt like the only thing keeping me externally alive… for now.
Each day brought a new bruise, a new scar. A physical manifestation of what was happening. I rarely left the house, hoping, foolishly, that someone might notice, might *see* something and help without me having to ask. It had never worked.
Tick…tock.
The clock felt like a countdown. Any minute now, Beom-Seok would be home.
How do I even begin to explain him? Beom-Seok. A strikingly handsome man with eyes the color of a summer sky. Hair so soft it felt like a whisper against skin. I’d once fantasized about running my fingers through it. I’d fallen in love with a man who made me feel seen, cherished. A man whose notifications sent my heart soaring. He made me unconditionally happy. All of it had dissolved into ash. He started drinking after a year. And when I say drinking, I mean drowning. The alcohol took control, twisting him into something unrecognizable. It consumed everything.
Then came the call. Beom-Seok was informed his parents had died in a car accident. Of course, he was drunk when he received the news.
He ended the phone call with “You have the wrong number. Don’t ever call this number again.”
No tears. No grief. Just… nothing.
*Flashback*
“Beom-Seok, is everything alright?” I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“My parents are dead,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. Almost… psychopathic.
“Oh my god, Beom-Seok, I’m so sorry.” I pulled him into a hug.
He shoved me away, throwing me to the floor.
My back slammed against the hard oak wood. I looked up at him, stunned. His face was an impassive mask.
He lifted his phone and smashed it against the ground, shattering the screen. I scrambled to a corner of the room, fear gripping me. It felt like he was going to kill me right there.
“B-Beom-Seok?” My voice trembled with terror.
He looked directly into my eyes.
“It’s Sunday. Make me kimchi.”
My eyes widened. I was still crying in the corner, arms wrapped around my legs. I didn’t move. My limbs shook.
“NOW! WHAT ARE YOU A FUCKING LAZY PIG, GET UP AND MAKE ME KIMCHI YOU BITCH!”
He screamed, his voice raw with rage.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the kitchen, forcing myself to move. That day, I realized he was gone. The man I loved was replaced by a monster.
*Present Time*
I commanded myself to have dinner ready upon his arrival. Every Sunday, I cooked him kimchi. It was his favorite, a twisted ritual. Today was different. Today, I was planning my escape. I knew what you're thinking. If he's at work, why don't I just leave? I've always been too scared because I've tried that and he's caught me. He'd made threats—horrific ones—that turned my hope into a paralyzing fear. Threats like: "You try to leave this house while I'm not here, I will cut your head off with the lawn mower."
Beom-Seok’s control felt like imprisonment. This wasn’t my first attempt. I'd tried countless times, but he always seemed to anticipate my moves. The consequences were always the same: a week of brutal beatings.
When he finished beating me, I would be weak on the floor, blood spilling from every inch of my body. He would crouch down, look me in the eye, point at the door and say: "If you want to leave, there is the door."
He knew how to send chills down my spine, in a horrific way. Every day, a certain thought crossed my mind, one of these days, this man is going to kill me.
For some reason, today I felt a flicker of hope, something I hadn’t felt in months. I planned to play the part of the happy girlfriend, the one he'd fallen for three years ago. Feed him kimchi, then seduce him. The seduction would lead to the bedroom. That’s where I’d tie him up and run. I had my bags packed. I just needed to be careful. He was smarter than I thought, but I had to try.
Then I heard the click of the door. The blood surged through my veins, making my heart pound in my chest. The fear was a physical weight, crushing me. I had to put on a show. I needed to be calm.
“Ah, nae sarang. I see you’ve made my favorite dish.” His deep voice sent shivers down my spine.
He called me *nae sarang* – my love. I’d moved to Korea with him two years ago, on our one-year anniversary, when he’d asked me to move here. I hadn’t believed he meant it, but I was so in love that I did it anyway. In the last two years, I’d learned basic Korean, enough to understand sentences and cook for him. All for him.
“Yeah, maybe after you’re finished we can do other things,” I whispered, trying to sound seductive.
This was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.
“What do you have in mind?” He smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. Disgusting.
“Maybe if you’ll let me, I can show you a good time, only with your permission.” I said with a pouty face. He looked at me shockingly. He's never thought a word like that would come out of my mouth.
"How about we forget about the kimchi and just get straight to it?"
Wow, this was going quicker than I expected. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad thing yet but I went along with it. I wanted to get out of here as fast as possible.
He stood up and I pulled him by his tie all the way upstairs. His heavy footsteps echoed in the silence. God, please let this work.
I brought him into the bedroom, decorated for this purpose. Rose petals were scattered across the bedsheets, and handcuffs lay on the headboard.
“I’m liking this,” he breathed, his eyes alight with anticipation. He was ready. I had to be too.
I pushed him onto the bed, his weight pressing down on me. He lay back, and I crawled over him. Before fastening the handcuffs, I gave him a fleeting kiss, then pulled away, fueling his desire.
Surprisingly, he allowed me to handcuff him. Wow, he really is a dumbass.
I secured him to the headboard and trailed a finger along his thigh.
I stood up and walked to the closet, retrieving my bag. Inside, a piece of lingerie I’d purchased weeks ago. It was all part of the plan.
I emerged from the closet, holding the lingerie. His eyes widened.
“Oh baby, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned.
Gross.
“I’m going to go put this on, and I’ll be right back,” I winked, turning to leave.
“Don’t be long,” he smirked.
“I won’t.”
After that, I left the room. Grabbed my bags and quietly ran down the stairs.
Yes, this was it. I was escaping. He couldn’t get to me now. I would finally be free. A smile crept onto my face. It had been a long time since I'd felt this flicker of hope.
As I reached for the door, it creaked. My heart leaped into my throat. My blood turned to ice.
“Y/N?” He yelled from upstairs.
Fuck. He knew. I decided to run out the door now. He’s going to get out of those handcuffs no matter how hard he has to pull. He will do anything to get to me.
I ran down the street, glancing back every few seconds.
As I reached halfway down the street, I heard a shout. I turned to see Beom-Seok searching for me. I quickly turned and ran into someone’s backyard, hiding behind the fence.
I heard a car engine start. He was going to use the car to hunt me down.
I’ve never made it this far during an escape, maybe this time I actually have a chance.