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The question had been in my mind for days, literally gnawing at me to ask it, and so I asked it.

"Jungkook, what if I got myself killed?"

All of a sudden, absolute and complete silence touches through in its most extreme form. He caught my gaze; something dark, fervently unreadable swirled in his eyes in that abrupt and crucial flash before he intentionally turned his stare away, as though refusing to answer all my unsaid questions.

His silence had been suffocating since the weight had almost been too heavy to bear, and I knew right then and there that with this one, I had brought it home.

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And one week has passed since that moment, in this week full of training sessions that ached my muscles and exhausted my mind. Jungkook was evading the question, keeping at arm's length from the one that ended with truth at its finish. I couldn't blame him, though; he was scared, maybe even more than me.

I sighed, pacing on the balcony, with the cool night air softly brushing over my skin.

The city lights below sparkled, but they did nothing to subside the worry in my chest. It was already far past dinnertime, but I suddenly realized that eating sounded completely unappetizing. No, I couldn't care less about food right then. My mind was constantly on Jungkook, right on that look in his eyes that was still there even after I'd asked that question. What was he hiding? What wasn't he telling me?

I shook my head and went back inside. The emptiness in the apartment reminded me of the loneliness that swallowed me now since Jungkook was still away to deal with whatever issues, unknown to me, that carried him away for so much longer. I had been used to waiting and guessing if he would return home safely. But tonight something was off; it just felt wrong in some way I couldn't quite place.

Just as I began moving down the living room, there occurred an inauspicious sound Two pairs of hastened, hurried, fast, and disquieted footsteps echoed, in unison, with an air of grave emergency. Confusion bloomed unbidden within me to dizzying proportions. The heck was this? My heart pounded within my chest, trying its best to escape, as I strode urgently toward the sound, driven by that instinctual need to know.

Then I heard the front door slam shut.

My whole being had got caught up in panic as I ran behind it; my mind was running as wild as my legs. In a sudden surge of adrenaline, I pushed the door outward and stepped into the hall, dead silent in every sense of the word: no guard to present his guarding position or even a hold-your-position position

The hallway was totally empty, really quiet. Faster, I breathed, while glancing about, trying to make something out of what was happening. . Breaths were growing faster, and shorter with every nook scanned, completely confused about what was happening. Now where on earth could everybody have gone?

At the next moment there was a footstep; upon the stairs, this time, the tread fell with a different light and a bit remote, as if it were an echo or had forgotten something — at the far rim of my sight a shadow flitted out of the room, down the steps in a twinkling, and I acted on mere impulse — leaping with heart racing and blood pounding in pursuit.

I made it to the stairs and started down them. Each hard, cool step seemed to echo as my foot met it. But when I came down to the end, I suddenly turned around.

The stairwell was empty, alone, and silent. My heart began to beat faster, fear tugging slowly at my mind. What was happening? It was then, at the very top I had barely just begun to turn, to start the journey back up the stairs, when a devastating blow struck my body from out of nowhere.

I had no time really to take it all in, hardly any time in which to act upon it, for I could feel myself being thrown forward with wild and tempestuous force.

Before I was aware of what was happening, my feet shot from under me, and there I was, tumbling down the stairs in some mad fall, everything about me some whirling vortex of darkness and pain.

My body slammed hard against the brutal, uninviting stairs—rolling and bouncing uncontrollably with the force of some mad pinball.

Each painfully jarring hit brought fresh new agonies, coursed through every fiber of my being, and I felt my mind slip away, as though increasingly it could not hold to consciousness.

The very last thing I remember is the cold, unrelenting floor rushing up to meet me at an alarming speed; and then, of course, everything turned black, and went right on into darkness.

The darkness wrapped around me and pulled me, and all my thoughts scattered in the wind.

Jungkook, where were you?