[TW : mentions of blood and death, so if that freaks you out, sorry]

   It felt like someone hit me in the stomach. It felt like my throat closed up and I couldn't breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to get any air in my lungs. The scene, the horrific, gruesome scene, was something I never knew I would witness. It was like something you would hear about on the news, or you would read in books about serial killers and how they killed their victims. Never in my life would I think I would be in the same room as a killer and a bleeding body.

   The ear-splitting bang of the gun left the room eerily quiet. The intensity of the bang had my ears ringing, but that was the least of my worries. My widened eyes were stuck on Hayoon. I watched in terror as his head flew back, his body jerked against the chair, and his chest fell for the last time. His cheeks no longer stained with his tears, but with his own blood. It rose from the hole in his forehead, were the bullet hit, and out over the sides of his head. It went slowly at first, a couple drops here and there falling to the floor, but then it came gushing out. It ran off his face like water was being poured over him. Thick streams of blood blanketed his face, flowing down his neck and staining his shirt.

   The floor was soaked in Hayoon's blood. The area surrounding the chair was in a sea of crimson. His head lifelessly hung behind the chair, the blood now tracing down his arms. His mouth was parted, blood lining his lips, and his arms and legs limply hung by his body. The blood was everywhere now, covering Hayoon and carpeting the concrete below him. The pungent metallic smell filled the room, not missing a single corner. It was nauseating, sickening to be around. The body and the smell. But that wasn't the thing that had me frozen in place, with my legs shaking and mind spazzing out.

   It was watching the life drain from his face. The bright, liveliness of his being disappearing from his eyes. His pleads, his wishes of sparing him all torn to shreds the second Mark's finger touched the trigger. I watched as his face dropped and his hopes came crashing down. The wave of panic, of realization that he was going to die and they weren't joking, that washed over his face before it got blasted off. I've never seen anything like this. How someone can go from breathing and blinking to dieing and bleeding. It terrified me, petrified me. I'm not sure why it scared me as bad as it did. Maybe because I've never seen something like this before, or maybe it was because of the thought of death. But all I know is that the shit that just unfolded in front of me shook me to my core.

   I blink, my mind resurfacing from its still panic, and I snap my head next to me. There he stood, the man that killed Hayoon without the slightest hint of guilt or remorse. Mark threw the gun to the ground, the weapon splashing down into the lake of blood. He roughly wiped his cheek with his knuckle, a drop of blood streaking across his skin. Mark grumbled and stormed back into the shadows. He caught my eye and his typical cold, hard stare pierced back at me. I gulp; Mark didn't look angry, he looked furious, and the fact that he hadn't blown up yet scared me.

   "Quit staring at me," Mark snapped lowly, ripping off his suit jacket.

   I cinch my brows together. My mouth fell agape as my eyes scanned the men. They all were the same as before: stiff bodies, serious expressions, and narrowed stares. No one showed anything towards the man that just died in front of them. It is like he doesn't exist anymore, like he disappeared and was never there to begin with. No guilt, no shame, no wide eyes, and no panic-stricken faces. They simply didn't care. It was unsettling, that no one in this room besides me was freaking out.

   "What are you gawking at?" Lucas demanded. I jumped at his harshness. 'These men are psychos'

   "H-How... How"

   "How do we just kill someone in cold blood? We've been doing this for years, so you'll just have to get used to it. And I advise you to move, you don't want blood on your shoes." Mark flipped his suit jacket over his shoulder and began walking towards the door. I glance down at my feet and nearly leap to the side.

   "God, why are you so jumpy?" Mark breathed out, glaring at me from over his shoulder.

   "You just killed someone in front of me and you expect me to be fine with seeing a person dead and bleeding out?!" My chest heaves up and down along with my ragged breaths. My hands start to tremble, and Mark sighs sharply.

   "That's fair," Mark said. He swung open the metal door and exited in a flash. The other men got the notion, shifting themselves from their still positions and walking out the door. My mouth falls open wider. 'They're just going to leave him there?!'

   The room fell quiet, and I looked up to see Doyoung standing in the doorway. He had a weird look on his face, like a look of sympathy and annoyance.

   "Are you here to mock me even more?" I ask, my voice coming out weaker than expected.

   "Mark has done plenty of that," He turns and leans his shoulder against the doorframe, sliding his hands into his pockets.

   "Then what are you still doing here?"

   "You more than likely have questions, so I'm here to answer them," Doyoung sighed lightly, eyes flickering between me and Hayoon's body. I stay quiet, trying to focus my mind on only one question so my words don't come out jumbled, and eventually meet Doyoung's gaze.

   "Why aren't you affected by that?" It came out as a shout rather than a simple question. Doyoung chuckled and shook his head.

   "Everyone here in Neo City has been doing this," He gestures towards Hayoon's corpse," for years. We've gotten used to it. Sure, every once in a while there's something that really shakes us, but all of us accepted the fact that we'll either have to see someone die or kill them ourselves." He answered so casually that it upset me.

   "But-But how do you get used to something like that?!" I sputtered, waving my arm at the body.

   "That I don't know how to answer... It's like a routine, sort of. Everyday, or week in this case, you do or see the exact same thing. It becomes natural for you. What just happened, killing a prisoner and just walking away, it's natural for me, for everyone here this house. And that's how it's been since the day I joined."

   Doyoung was now standing near the table, gazing down at it before swiping something off it. He spun to face me, the vial twirling between his fingers. The poison splashed around the small glass tube, coating the sides and foaming from the constant motion. I press my lips into a thin line as he walks closer to me, halting about three feet in front of me.

   "My reaction was the same as yours was. Taeyong shot a prisoner and the body crashed to the floor. The blood oozing out of his head and the psychotic smile he wore triggered the same panic and baffled expression. He told me something, and I'll tell you that same thing." Doyoung slipped the vial into his shirt pocket and started at me. "You're in this for life Yubin. There's no way you can leave without going the same way Hayoon did. So get your act together and deal with it." He held my wild, fright-filled eyes in a glare for what felt like hours before dropping his head and sighing. "Sorry, I typically don't go all serious like that. But what the Boss said all those years ago was true. No one will judge you for crying, seeing as this is your first witnessing. I, too, cried my first-" 

   "Quit trying to sympathize with me!" I shout, hot tears unwillingly spilling over my face, "You and I don't think alike, so stop trying to sound normal. That Boss, Taeyong, has fucking brainwashed you. No one has seen death with their own two eyes and walked away like it was just a simple inconvenience. You all are psychopaths and Taeyong is the ringleader!" I shove Doyoung away by his shoulders. He stumbles back and swiftly uncovers a handgun from under his suit jacket. He stretched his arm out fluidly and aimed it at me, his face smeared with vexation.

   "Couple things Kang. One, don't ever insult the Boss. Two, don't you ever put your hands on me or you'll end up without them. Three, you got yourself into this mess, sweetheart, so the only person to blame in this situation is you." He continued to aim the barrel at me. I was frozen in place yet again, my palms and brow sweaty.

   "L-Look, just leave me alone. I need time to think."

   "About what? And, I doubt you want to stay in here"

   "None of your business, and I d-don't, so move." I unstick myself from my frozen position and brush past Doyoung, but before I could leave, he grabs me by the arm and lurchs my back.

   "If this business has anything to do with you somehow escaping, you will end up like Hayoon, mark my words. Dead without a care in the world from anyone here." His breath hit my ear, and I hear a light chuckle escape him before I ripped my arm away. I dash out of the room and into the dim hallway, my footsteps echoing throughout the long, bare corridor. My frown deepens and anger rises as I climb the stairs.

   I can't wrap my head around the fact that everyone, even Jungwoo, who I thought was sane, can kill someone and turn around to have a normal day. How can that not traumatize you? Watching someone's life dissolve before your eyes. They've been doing this for years, and yes people repress those feelings and bury them deep down, but won't it all come flooding back. Won't all the trauma and realization that you are constantly killing innocent people hit you like a punch to the face. When will it finally snap; when will the day come that each of them crumple down and understand what they are doing.

   "Jesus, are you following me now?!" I whip my head up and find Mark standing near the couch. His suit jacket was strewn over a couch cushion, his shirt was messily unbuttoned a bit and rolled at the sleeves, and his tie was hanging around his neck. He held a knife, the same one he always had, and a cloth in the other. He looked as though he was cleaning it rather roughly due to his appearance.

   "I was just going to my room," I say slowly, reassuring him as I carefully made my way towards the other hallway. My mind drifted back to its thoughts, and before my legs could turn my body around the corner, I quickly turned to face Mark.

   "Hayoon was innocent, so why did you kill him?"

   Mark's eyes lifted to meet mine. A scoff, which he intended it to sound like a chuckle, followed my question. "Your question was so idiotic, that I would like to hear your explanation before I rudly correct you."

   "At least you're honest."

   "Hurry up I don't have all day." Mark pocketed the knife and cloth, turning his body to face me.

   "Hayoon wasn't purposely trying to kill the gang. He was ordered by one of the Higher Seven, whoever the fuck those people are. You could see the confident mask he had on disappear as soon as you pulled the gun out. He didn't want to do what he did." Mark sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

   "Look, you got this all backwards. Whether or not Hayoon wanted to kill us, this was what he signed up for when he joined the mafia. Mafias and gangs are against the law, and the slightest connection with them could send you to jail for years. I don't care how he got involved with the mafia, but these are the repercussions of his decision." He raised an eyebrow, indirectly asking if that was it.

   "But he didn't want to do it, nor get killed. Couldn't you just set him free?" My voice was rising by the second.

   "We couldn't simply let him go. He would get released back into the world, and even though he doesn't want to die here," He points his finger towards the ground, "he is going to die if he doesn't report back to his gang. Either way, he was going to die, because once you join the mafia, there is no turning back."

   "But what if-"

   "Enough with the 'what ifs'!" Mark was fuming, "This is similar to your situation. We can't let you or Hayoon go because you know too much. And if we were to do that, you both run the risk of exposing our base, and our asses will all be thrown in jail." Mark wasted no time in snatching his jacket and stalking around the couch, brushing past me and stopping at the large, glass double doors. "I would like to keep my job, and I sure as hell would think you would like to stay alive, so I suggest you zip it before we have to throw out another body tonight." He yanked open one of the doors and disappeared behind it, an annoyed huff accompanying him.

   I stand motionless at the corner of the large room, staring at the glass that swirled the interior of the room beyond it. I sigh exhausted, a wave of weariness falling over me as my heavy steps travel down the empty corridor. I never realized until now that everything that happened today drained me. From combat training to me and Mark's fight just a few moments ago, each word made me more and more tired. I just didn't feel it, my body was in a state of shock.

   I push the door of my bedroom closed. The sheets on the bed and the air inside the room felt welcoming, almost beckoning me to close my eyes and drift into a deep sleep. But every time I close my eyes, the image of Hayoon's bleeding body and the men's unfazed expressions flashed behind my eyes. The metallic, crimson liquid dripping from his fingertips and the disgusted, unbothered faces of the men surrounding me. I sink to the floor, hot tears flowing down my cheeks involuntarily. I don't understand why I'm crying, but I give no effort to stop it. I press the palms of my hands to my watery eyes and sob, the motion causing my body to jolt.

   'Why? Why me, of all people, that had to get mixed up in this mess. This mess with psychotic people, blood drenched bodies, and murderous weapons and intents. Why? Someone tell me why?' My sobs came harder now, broken wails escaping me. 

   "What the fuck have I got into?" 

just a short little chapter after the big one 

but trust me, in like 2 chapters, shit bouta get fun

Thank you for reading!!