chapter 26 | Addiction
"I...The reason why your hands shake so much sometimes...Is it because of...alcohol?" I dare to question him about what has been worrying me a lot, but he averts his eyes from me as if this had triggered some discomfort. "Y/n. What you heard from him isn't true," he does not answer my question the right way, dodging the main matter.
"But your hands..." I do not change of subject, feeling the need to know the truth, and he stops what he is doing. He throws the soaked paper towel out, and lays his hands down on the counter. "It's all in the past. I recovered long ago. I dealt with that after the divorce with my wife, then I stopped."
"Why do your hands still shake so much then...?" I pray for him to not get upset at me for asking so many questions. I am just concerned. "I still drink alcohol but only the right amount, the shaking is mainly caused by my smoking addiction,...That's all. I don't want you to be scared of me," he looks into my eyes, seeming deeply affected by this. "I won't ever get drunk with you or Jun around. All of that happened when I was alone and didn't care about myself anymore...but you know what happened, I got better and started a new life."
I stare at him, those words sounding so familiar.
"Y/n..." he directs his body towards mine, showing some nervousness, fear for the first time. "You're not going to see me differently because of that, right? You know he did it on purpose. He doesn't know me anymore, so he doesn't know that I'm better now."
Without saying anything, I step towards him and wrap my arms around him. "I trust you."
He hugs me back, tightly, his touches and embrace exposing a lot of emotional distress. "I would never do this type of thing to you and your baby, y/n. I promise you'll never have to face this with me. I love you both way too much."
"We love you too, and I'll be here to help you go through this too," I close my eyes and relax in his arms. His fingers run through my hair, my body and mind finally finding some peacefulness, he rubs the nape of my neck, and I raise my chin up. I stand on my tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, and we both stare at each other. He plays with my hair in the back of my head, and he kisses me again.
— Next day —
Saturday, October 2nd, 2021.
10 am.
I follow the officer after leaving Jungkook and my baby in the waiting room, and he leads me to the interrogation room. This is intimidating, I feel so uncomfortable and unsafe.
The man before me opens a door, and he lets me go in first, but someone is already there, sitting at the table. "Good morning, Miss Choi," he greets me, and I bow to him. "Good morning."
"You can sit over here," he points at the chair in front of him, and the other officer sits by his side, so I get on the chair that faces them at the other side of the table.
"So, before we start this interview, let me explain to you what is going to happen," he closes the file that was exposed, and I listen. "We are going to ask you a couple of questions, some of them might make you uncomfortable, but we are only here to obtain as much information as possible from your point of view as the victim and my co-worker here will faithfully transcribe everything you say for a report. You have the right to refuse to answer us, but telling us the truth will only benefit you and the charges you pressed on Mister Sang. Okay?"
"Okay," I nod, not saying more than that. "Perfect, let's start then," he reopens the file, and I grab my hands. "Can you tell us your full name, how old you are, and when your birth date is?"
"My name is Choi y/n, I'm twenty, and I was born on February twenty-five, two-thousand and one," I answer with no difficulty to this question, and he goes on.
20 minutes later...
"Do you recall the first time feeling uncomfortable around him?" he gazes up at me, and I try to bring the memories back. "It was...I'm not sure, but I remember one night, it was on Christmas, so Sookyung and I drank some alcohol, but it was the first time I was drinking some, and I felt weird afterwards so I went to bed and fell asleep very fast. Then...I clearly remember waking up in the middle of the night, but I was a bit lightheaded, I don't know how to describe it, I was a bit in a daze, and I remember feeling him behind me...I knew that it was the reason why I woke up, but I stayed still, didn't say or do anything, but then...I felt some more movement—"
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but what position were you in?" he never takes his eyes off of me but pays attention to my statement, probably my body language as well. "My back was turned to him."
"Alright, you can go ahead," he allows me to continue, so I replay the moment, which I will never forget, in my head. "I can't give precise details, but I just remember feeling him...rub...himself against me. I could tell he was not sleeping because his breathing got heavier...but I was not feeling good, I didn't understand why he'd do that, and I was scared of reacting...so I pretended to be sleeping, but after some minutes...I felt like if he was checking whether I was sleeping or not because he stopped and leaned over me...and since I did not move, he went further..." I cannot tell more with both of them in front of me, and I keep my eyes low. "How old were you when that happened?"
"I was sixteen. It happened around four months after I met him," I give information I am more certain of, and he nods to me. "And what did he do when he went further?" he asks for the rest, but I remain quiet, trying to adjust to this for a minute. "I know it's hard, but don't be scared to talk about it with proper words. There's no need to feel ashamed, we're used to hearing those types of stories. You're doing good," he helps me to talk and let the words out, and I decide to make it easier for them. "I was wearing a nightie that I put on for him, and I remember feeling him...pull it up...then being inside of me," I cringe at the thoughts, the words I have to say. "Have you ever stopped pretending to be sleeping?"
I shake my head. "I couldn't move. I don't know why I couldn't do anything."
"And how long do you think this lasted?" he tilts his head. "I can't tell at all, but it felt long."
"Okay," he sighs and looks down at the pieces of paper laid on the file. "What happened the morning after? Did you talk about it with him?"
"I was scared to do it...so I just asked him if he was awake at some point the night before, and he told me he wasn't, then asked me why. So I told him that I kinda felt him move, but I wasn't sure whether I was dreaming or not, and he denied it, so since then, I convinced myself this was just a dream, but...at the same time...I am pretty sure this was not a dream. I knew it was real life," I put this horrible doubt I was never able to get off my mind. This tortured me for so long, so telling myself that was just a dream mentally helps me. "You never told him at any moment before this occurred that he could do this type of stuff, did you?"
"I never did," I state, with no hesitation. "Alright," he takes a peek at the laptop screen where the whole interview must be written. "Has this happened only once throughout your relationship?" he focuses back on me, and I nod. "I only caught him doing that once."
"How many times on a week would he ask to have intercourse with you when you were sixteen? Approximately," he makes me think harder, and I do my best to give a reliable answer. "It was...I don't know...Almost every day."
"And if you're okay talking about this, how was he when you would do it?" he does not realize how complicated it is to keep going with this topic. "Was he violent? Would he care about how you felt?"
"He was...rough. All the time," I do not hide it. This is unnecessary now. "But in the beginning...I told him that I liked it like that...so this is because of me..."
"Don't put the blame on yourself," he contradicts me, for a good reason, and for some reason, I feel even more at ease with them. "I heard you say that you put a nightie on for him. Did he ever force you to wear some type of clothing?"
"At the end of our relationship, he took all my pants, long-sleeved tops, and long skirts or dresses, and he threw them out and bought revealing clothes instead so that I would only wear those...but when it used to be alright between us...he would..." I realize how much I ignored a lot of signs. "I know that he would always be really happy about seeing me wear some clothes for him...so I did it more often, but I never felt forced to do it."
"And what type of clothing was it?" he writes something down too again, and I peek down at his hand. "He had favorites, and if he hasn't thrown them out, they're still in our closet. To go to bed, he'd always love to see me in short onesies with cute patterns on them, or in nighties, and for the day, it would be uniforms..."
"Uniforms? School uniforms or a different type?" he stops noting. "School uniforms only, with short skirts and thigh highs."
"I see," he understands what I am describing. "And did he like you to give him some nicknames?"
I nod but feel too embarrassed to say it. "Can you tell me what nicknames?"
"It's...I don't feel comfortable saying it..." I squeeze my hands between my thighs out of anxiousness, and he leans back on his chair. "Do you want me to cite a few of them so that you can tell me which ones? Will you be alright with that?"
"Yes," I accept to do it that way, and I make sure to not miss any word he says. "Okay. Did he have a favorite?"
"Yes, at the beginning of our relationship, he told me to call him that, but I stopped once our baby was born," I confirm. "Was it Master?"
"No," I shake my head. "Daddy?" he guesses the right one, not sounding ill at ease. "Yes."
"And would he give you nicknames too?" he crosses his arms to lay them over the table and lean forth, and this time, I tell the one I heard a lot when I was still with Sookyung. "Babygirl. Little girl."
"And did it use to make you uncomfortable?" he assumes, and I slightly shy away. "No...It used to make me feel...good, like, it would bring a lot of comfort and safety because it was affectionate to me."
"Hm. It was never sexual to you?" he understands what I mean by that, to my greatest relief. "Not at the beginning. Then I got the fact that it was...arousing him, but it never made me feel uncomfortable."
"Do you know what sexual roleplay is?" he lifts one hand up to his chin to rest it on his fist, and I show him that I do not. "Alright. Sexual roleplay would involve, in this case, you and your partner, and you would act out roles while engaging in sexual activity. So both of you take on a character role, for instance, you act like a school girl, and he acts like the teacher to bring to life a sexual fantasy. Do you understand now ?"
"I do," I remove all doubt, recalling some games Sookyung used to make me play with him. "And have you and Sookyung ever done that?"
"Yes...Sookyung would often tell me to play a game... and he— I mean, he would want me to act like a school girl, and he'd be the teacher. Or him as a stepdad, and me...as a daughter," I cannot frame my sentence without pausing, only realizing now that this is not right to most people. "And how old would he make the characters be?"
"He never really changed our age," I frown, not remembering anything like that. "He would just make me act, like, very innocent. More than I was."
His brief furrow, his head constantly going up and down. "How would he do that? What would you have to do exactly?"
"I would have to pretend to not know what he was doing to me, what his touches meant. And I would have to..." I nibble on my inner cheek, now feeling ashamed of who I have been, what he made me become. "I— He would like to be forceful, to not have my consent first but then get it because I was liking it..." I never look up, the disgust heightening the word sensation inside of me. "Was he like that outside of the roleplay too?"
"Yes, but I didn't realize or pay attention to it...I thought that as his girlfriend, he wouldn't have to ask for consent anymore because I was his," I give reasons for it. "And have you never found the roleplay weird?"
I move my head from side to side. "I thought it was fun and okay...I knew it'd make him happy, so I was happy too. I never had parents or teachers, so I didn't mind..." I have a hard time explaining the way I see it, fearing that he might judge me. "That's what I was going to mention, this makes sense," he does not criticize or show disgust, allowing some tension in my limbs to be released.
I hope this ends soon.
— Four months later —
Monday, February 21st, 2022.
9:40 am.
My eyes remaining on the outside as Jungkook is driving us home after the trial verdict, I stare at the familiar landscape brightened with the purity of the snow, the flakes concealing the ground, grass, and sand even deeper under them. I watch the waves of the ocean softly hit the water, and I think back on one moment during the trial.
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