Warning: Dear Readers, This chapter contains intense and graphic scenes that depict brutal torture and violence. It explores deeply painful themes, including physical and psychological suffering, and contains vivid descriptions of blood and injury. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

If you are sensitive to such topics or find them distressing, please consider skipping this chapter. Your well-being is important, and we encourage you to prioritize your mental health. Thank you for your understanding.
Sincerely,
ParkAaimin.

Chapter 18: (Aaira's pov)
27 July, 2025.

I opened my eyes, my head pounding with a dull ache. It took me a moment to realize I was gagged, a rough cloth tied tightly around my mouth. Panic set in as I tried to move, but my wrists and ankles were bound as well. The room was dark, with only a faint sliver of light seeping through a crack under the door.

I struggled against the rope, my heart was racing. Memories of the last few hours-or was it days, I didn't have any idea? The meal, the old woman's maniacal laughter when I was choking, the choking pain... I had passed out, and now I was here. What was i doing here ?They had abducted me, and I was trapped in their house, hidden away like a dirty secret. No way.

The air was thick and musty in here, the smell of damp and decay filling my nostrils, making it extremely hard for me to breathe. I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the ropes dug into my skin, they made it hard, it sent sharp pains shooting through my limbs. I had to get out of here. But, we i looked around I realised, I had to escape.

My wrists were bound tightly, the rough rope chafing and cutting into my skin. It felt like they had been tied for days, the constant pressure leaving deep, angry red marks and blisters. My fingers were numb, the circulation cut off by the tightness of the bindings. The same went for my ankles, which were swollen and sore from the unforgiving restraints.

The room itself was small and dank, My body was extremely paining, the room was with bare concrete walls. The floor was cold and hard, and I could feel the grit and grime against my skin. There was a single sliver of light coming from under the door was my only indication of the outside world. But The air inside was thick with humidity, making it difficult to breathe, and the faint, metallic smell of rust mingled with the stench of mold and decay. It made it extremely hard and difficult to breathe.

There were no windows, no furniture, just a small, empty space that served as my prison. I strained to hear any sounds from outside the room, but all I could make out was the occasional drip of water and the distant hum of what sounded like a refrigerator.

I tried to twist my hands free, but the ropes only dug in deeper, sending sharp pains shooting up my arms. Tears of frustration and fear welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. I couldn't afford to give in to despair. I had to stay strong, and had to find a way out of this nightmare.

The minutes stretched into hours, and I began to lose track of time. The lack of food and water was taking its toll, and my mouth felt dry and parched beneath the gag. My stomach growled with hunger, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the fear gnawing at my insides.

Footsteps echoed outside the room, growing louder as they approached. The door creaked open, and the old woman stepped in, her face twisted in a cruel smile.

Old Woman: Awake at last, I see.

I glared at her, my eyes full of defiance despite my fear. She walked over to me, as she smiled, savoring my helplessness.

Old woman: You must be wondering, why you're here ?

I nodded quickly.

Old Woman: You know too much, Aaira. You've seen what you shouldn't have.

She crouched down beside me, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. I flinched away, but there was nowhere to go.

Old Woman: Our precious daughter, gone. And now, then Y/n came, and become our precious daughter, we did her upbringing like our own, So called Dead Daughter.

Her words sent a shiver down my spine. I had stumbled upon their dark secret, their daughter's death, and now they were desperate to keep me silent.

Old woman: Now you can't go away with that secret, Aaira.

The old man appeared in the doorway, as he leaned against the threshold, I just looked down.

Old Man: You should have kept your mouth shut, girl. Now you've fucked up.

I struggled against the ropes again, desperate to free myself. The old woman's smile faded as she stood up, her eyes hardening.

Old Woman: You'll stay here until we decide what to do with you.

They turned and left, the door slamming shut behind them. I was alone again, the silence of the room pressing down on me. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had to stay strong. I had to find a way out of this nightmare.

As the minutes stretched into hours, I tried to think of a plan. There had to be a way to escape, some weakness in their twisted plan. I couldn't give up, not now. My life depended on it.

I shifted again, feeling something hard and sharp under my wrist. It was a small, jagged piece of metal, maybe from an old nail or a piece of broken furniture. Hope sparked within me. If I could just reach it, I might be able to cut through the ropes.

It was a slow and painful process, but inch by inch, I managed to maneuver the metal into my hand. My wrists burned as I began to saw through the ropes, the rough edges cutting into my skin. But I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop.

Hours passed, but finally, with one last effort, the rope around my wrists snapped. My hands were free. I quickly untied the gag and the ropes around my ankles, my body trembling with relief and exhaustion.

I knew I had to be quiet. The old couple could return at any moment. I stood up, my legs shaky but determined. There had to be a way out of this dark, suffocating room.

Carefully, I moved towards the door, pressing my ear against it. I couldn't hear anything on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned the knob and peeked out. The hallway was empty, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb.

I slipped out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. Every step felt like an eternity as I crept through the house, searching for an exit. I couldn't let them find me again. I couldn't go back to that dark room.

Finally, I saw a window at the end of the hallway, the faint light of dawn breaking through. Freedom was within reach. I moved as quickly and silently as I could, my eyes fell on Callender, it showed 27 july, it's been 12 days, he didn't come to take me, I was last conscious on 22 July, that means I've been unconscious for 5 days now. How cruel, my breath coming in short, frantic gasps.

I ran towards the window with all my power, I'll find my way back, myself. But, just as I reached the window, a door behind me creaked open. The old woman's voice rang out.

Old Woman: Stop her!

I barely had a moment to react before I felt a rough hand grab my hair and yank me backward. Pain shot through my scalp as I was dragged away from the window, my desperate reach for freedom abruptly cut short. The old man, his face twisted with anger, slapped me hard across the face. The force of the blow sent me sprawling onto the floor, my vision blurring with the impact.

He didn't give me a moment to recover. He hauled me up and shoved me into a chair, my arms and legs too weak to resist. My cheek burned where he'd struck me, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I tried to scream, but the sound came out as a muffled whimper.

The old woman stood in the doorway, her eyes cold and calculating. The old man disappeared for a moment, then returned with a hammer and two large nails. My heart froze at the sight.

Old Woman: You see, Aaira, you bought this upon yourself.

Aaira: Please, please, please let me go, please, I'll always stay silent, please, let me go.

Ignoring my plea, he moved toward me, the hammer and nail clutched in his hands, his eyes glinting with a sickening anticipation. He forced my hand down onto the arm of the chair, holding it in place with his rough, calloused fingers. I struggled, but his grip was ironclad.

Old Man: This will teach you not to run.

Aaira: Please, I beg you please, don't do this to me, I beg you please, please.

Tears streamed down my face uncomfortably, I can't even imagine that thing going inside my skin. My body started shaking with sobs as i kept begging him to stop to not do this. For two minutes I saw the old woman's eyes sofetening.

Aaira: Please, I beg you, I will do as you say, but please don't do this.

The old woman shifter closer to him as she whispered in a voice which was audible to me.

Old woman: Let it be, just tie her hands.

Old man: Shut up !

He positioned the nail over the back of my hand. My eyes widened in horror as he raised the hammer, tears left my eyes restlessly, I kept begging. A scream tore from my throat, but it was cut short by the excruciating pain that followed. The first blow drove the nail partway through my hand, the sharp metal piercing flesh and bone.

The pain was unbearable, a searing sting that radiated up my arm and through my entire body, I screamed so loud. My vision blurred with tears, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood welled up around the nail, my hand going purple, the crimson liquid dripping down my fingers and pooling on the floor.

He hammered again, driving the nail deeper into the wood. My scream echoed through the room, a raw, primal sound of suffering. The old woman watched with a twisted smile, her satisfaction evident in her eyes. The third blow drove the nail all the way through, pinning my hand to the chair. The pain was overwhelming, each pulse of my heartbeat sending fresh waves of pain through my shattered hand.

I could barely see through the haze of tears and pain. My hand was a mess of blood and torn flesh, the nail jutting obscenely from the wound. The pain was a constant, throbbing presence, each movement sending fresh jolts of ache through my arm.

The old man moved to my other hand, repeating the process. My screams filled the room, but there was no one to hear them, no one to save me. The pain was too much, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness.

With my hands nailed to the chair, I was completely immobilized, the pain throbbing through my entire body. I looked up at the old woman, her face was more of a pity than the old man, the old man said.

Old Man: Now you'll think twice before trying to leave.

The old woman stepped closer, her face inches from mine.

Old Woman: Learn to obey, My dear.

She straightened up and turned away, leaving me to my torment. The old man followed her, leaving me alone, and nailed the chair.

The room grew quiet, the only sound of the ragged rasp of my breathing and the drip of my blood onto the floor. The pain was all-consuming, a constant, burning ache that left me trembling and weak.

As the minutes stretched into hours, I forced myself to focus. I couldn't let them break me. I had to find a way out, and had to survive. For Jungkook, for myself, I had to endure.

The door creaked open, and the old woman entered with a tray of food in her hands. She walked towards me, her footsteps heavy and deliberate. She crouched beside me, as she pulled some strands of hairs behind my ear.

Old Woman: You need to eat, Aaira. You need your strength, right ?

I had no appetite. The sight of the food made my stomach churn. I had lost everything-my freedom, my dignity, my hope. She picked up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to my lips, but I turned my head away, feeling bile rise in my throat.

Old Woman: Don't be difficult.

She shoved the spoon towards me again, but I couldn't eat. The very thought of swallowing anything made me want to vomit. My body heaved, and I gagged, my stomach convulsing. Frustrated, she struck me across the face, the sting adding to my already overwhelming pain.

Old Woman: Eat! I'm not a robot who cooks for you to refuse to eat!

She forced the spoon into my mouth, but I couldn't swallow. My throat constricted, and tears streamed down my face as I started to choke. The old woman grew more agitated, her grip on the spoon tightening.

Old Woman: Stop crying and eat!

But I couldn't. My body was in too much pain, my spirit too broken. Instead, I kept crying, the tears mixing with the porridge she was forcing into my mouth. The taste was vile, but the physical and emotional pain was worse.

Old Woman: You're useless! Your mother must be the same as you, that's what she taught you, To disrespect elders.

As she mentioned my mother, memories flooded back, each one mixed with the bittersweet feelings of my past, I miss my mother. Even though she had always been strict and harsh, often saying hurtful things. Even as her voice scolded me for one transgression or another.

Even though, she was always so harsh, calling me a stain on her name, a burden she had to bear. But now, in this moment of my helplessness, I finally understood the love behind her actions.

I remembered how she used to feed me with her own hands, her soft pale fingers gently lifting each bite to my mouth, even as she scolded me. But now, in the quiet darkness of this room, I saw the truth behind her sternness.

She loved me. She loved me fiercely, in a way she couldn't express. She wanted to protect me from the same suffering she had endured in her early days of marriage, from the heavy expectations of society. She wanted me to be strong, to endure, to survive in a world that had shown her little kindness.

The thought of my mother brought fresh tears to my eyes, each one a sign of the love I now realized she always had for me. Her love wasn't the gentle, nurturing kind I had longed for, but it was a love forged in her own pain and sacrifice.

It was a love that demanded strength and resilience, qualities she had tried to instill in me with every sharp word and strict rule. And as I sat there, tied up and in pain, I cried more for the realization of her love than for the physical pain.

I cried for the moments of tenderness I had missed, the understanding that had eluded me until now. I cried for the mother who had done her best in a harsh world, who had tried to protect me in the only way she knew how.

And I cried for myself, for the girl who had always felt unloved and unwanted, but who now knew that she had been loved all along, even if it was a love that hurt as much as it healed.

Even though I always cried at night, longing for her love like any other mother would show their child, I was her only daughter. But now I realize that if she had loved me differently, I wouldn't have had the strength to survive in a world without love.

She was always harsh, but she made sure I never went to bed hungry. I hated her all my life, and I feared her. I hated confronting her after my marriage because I knew it would be difficult. But now, I miss her. I see now that her harshness was her way of preparing me for a tough world. Her love was hidden behind her strictness, and though it hurt, it made me strong.

Old woman: You're such a useless person, You don't want to eat ?

I just looked down, I had no strength left to respond. I sobbed uncontrollably, she shoved the spoon one last time in front of my mouth, when I didn't respond. The old woman finally threw the spoon down in disgust, standing up and glaring at me.

Old Woman: Fine, starve then. See if I care.

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. I was left alone, bound to the chair, my hand nailed to the wood. The pain was relentless, but even worse was the hopelessness that settled over me. As the night wore on, the bleeding from my hand grew worse. I could feel the warm trickle of blood pooling beneath me, the steady drip a cruel reminder of my suffering.

By morning, I had no strength left to even shout or scream. My hands were sore and swollen, the skin around the nail was an angry red, throbbing with every beat of my heart. I knew the old couple must be sleeping by now. This might be my only chance to escape. Summoning every ounce of courage I had left, I tried to pull my hand from the chair.

The pain was immediate and excruciating. As I pulled, the nail tore through my flesh, sending sharp, searing jolts of agony up my arm. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out, the taste of blood filling my mouth. The room spun around me, a dizzying blur of shadows and pain.

I felt the nail ripping through my skin. The metal scraped against bone, and I could feel the tendons straining, threatening to snap. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the sweat that soaked my skin. The pain was so intense that I thought I might pass out, but I couldn't stop. I had to keep going.

With a final, desperate tug, my hand came free. The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced, a white-hot fire that seemed to consume my entire arm. I cradled my injured hand to my chest, gasping for breath, tears blurring my vision. Blood flowed freely from the wound, but I was free.

I took a moment to gather myself, my injured hand cradled against my chest, blood dripping onto the floor. Despite the pain and exhaustion, I knew I couldn't stop now. With trembling fingers, I reached for the nail that held my other hand captive. My whole body shook with the effort as I tried to suppress my screams, biting down hard on my already injured hand to muffle any sound.

The metal of the nail dug into my skin, tearing through flesh that was already raw and tender. Tears streamed down my face unabated, mixing with the blood that continued to flow from both of my hands. But I couldn't afford to give in to the pain. I had to keep going, driven by a desperate need for freedom.

With a final, agonizing tug, my other hand broke free from the chair. The relief was instantaneous but short-lived, as a fresh wave of pain surged through me. I collapsed to the floor, my whole body trembling with exhaustion and pain. I lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to gather my strength.

The room spun around me, the walls closing in as darkness threatened to engulf me. But I couldn't stay here. With every ounce of willpower I had left, I pushed myself to my feet. I stumbled towards the door, my vision blurred and my steps unsteady. The need to escape drove me forward, overriding the pain and fatigue that threatened to immobilize me.

As I reached the door, I fumbled with the handle, my fingers slick with blood making it difficult to grasp. With a desperate twist, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond. I staggered out into the corridor, my heart pounding in my chest. Freedom was so close, but I knew I couldn't rest yet. I had to keep moving, keep going until I was far away from this nightmare.

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"With every drop of blood I lost, a piece of my heart faded, I feared I was losing not just my strength, but the belief that you would save me."
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