Yoongi PoV:

Soaked in sweat, I wake up, my eyes wide, torn open almost to the point of distortion. The only thing, which is able to drown out my heavy uncontrolled breathing is the sound of my fast beating heart, deep down my chest.

One hand rested on my ribcage, I run the other through my drenched, dark hair, while I try to manage getting back control over my breathing as well as my tangled thoughts.

Continuously nagged by a small, persistent tremor leading my pinky finger to unconsciously shake, I roll out of my ruffled sheets and get my feet carrying the exhausted body, in which my hurried mind is trapped in, to the dusty glass, rimmed by an old, faded white window surround. Exhausted I manage to lay my fingers on the rusty handle and give the wooden frame a light push.

A small stifling sob flees my throat as the cold air fills my lungs and coats my hot, sweaty skin. The dizzy light makes my pale limps look even whiter, almost translucent appears the thin layer of the natural outer covering of my body to be.

Fascinated by the mate glow my arm seems to exude, I slowly twist it to take a closer look on every shining drop of sweat, which is breaking the dim light, before I lift my heavy head to the pitch black sky. I strain my eyes, peering into the gloom, which overarching darkness only gets peaked by the beaming of the huge celestial body in the heavens.

Today the moon shines even brighter on the blank spot in my memories; at least gives the dilute moonlight, which is softly touching my face, the impression of it, how it is casting everything around me in a milk-white glance as if the crescent is trying to create an atmosphere of even more lethargic and dark than already radiates from within myself.

As always my thoughts immediately bounce back to the day, my predetermined life had completely gone of the rails. The day, I lost the red string, which were used to guide me through the madness of this cruel, cold world.