Our final floor is Level Four and is labeled Dangerous. All patients have completely lost touch with reality and are very harmful to both themselves and others.

They are under 24/7 close supervision and are not allowed to be outside their rooms unless if a patient is assigned for a physical therapy sessions (which is a rarity ). Only doctors and psychiatrists are allowed on this floor.

Family members may communicate through supervised phone calls and face-time on computers. Patients wear fluorescent pink wristbands.

If you see a Level Four patient outside their room unaccompanied by a doctor or professional, please call 911 and keep yourself as far away from the patient as you can.

Now that you have an overall idea about the physical layout of the building . Let's step  in . Yeah?

[+Park Jimin ]

The thing about regret is, that it by nature isn't evil. If the right chords are struck then the feeling can help release enough amounts of dopamine instead of cortisol too.

It is the kind of psyche that makes it an alarming emotion that leaves you lifeless and weak as you tear up your sanity away into nothingness while you stumble through many indescribable phases.

It is when guilt turns into avarice that it becomes truly dangerous. As tacky as this emotion sounds, there is only one power in the world strong enough to allow a person to resist the temptation of falling into that downward spiral and to defeat that dark emotion:

true, uncontaminated trust.

Park sat on his bed, groggy, constantly tapping his pen against the exclusively designed white quartz table beside him. He had his ashen-colored eyes fixated at one spot in particular.

He was so enveloped in his thoughts about the recent events that he was blind to the cherry-red liquid pooling up beneath his hand, all because of how hard he was pressing its sharp tip against that milk-colored thumb of his.

The wind greeted concrete and Jimin's skin just the same, Its giddy, cold, and crisp currents flowed through the room announced as they got Park's limbs shivering.

Suddenly, a chorus of nameless voices erupted from inside him; reminding him of his brief encounter with another patient in the hall some time back.

He leaned back crossing his arms, his spine aligning with the Chrysanthemum-colored wall behind him. The stoic expression on his gentle features was proof of how this specific encounter had been bugging him since the past hour now.

He couldn't recognize the patient, so he had gotten a pen and paper to ink down all the possible places where he might've seen him and by the next fifteen minutes, he had a designed a small yet organized flow chart on his lap.

Perhaps doing this would've painted a joyful smile on his plump limps but no.

That didn't happen. Instead, his eyebrows were weaved into a frown shading his discomfort. Each of the charts lead him to dead fucking ends! Jimin groaned in frustration, the rhythmic tapping of his feet was now dangerously fast-paced.

Loud cries of frustration were let out from the patient, the visible expanse of his skin was flushed red, his jugular, and a number of other veins protruding from the skin.

He bent down, head close to his stomach as he grabbed a fistful of his hair pulling at it.Why couldn't he figure it out? Who was he? Was he important enough to have Jimin pulling at his hair like this? Would finding out the answer help calm him down?

Every question in his head seemed like a wildflower as if his thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at once.

In the end, he gave up - well...kind of. He took a shallow breath, dry lips pressing together and his chest tightening as his thoughts ganged up on him.

He was fully aware that the questions would return to him and he too would return to it himself because he had to figure out the man's details and his OCD was not going to let his nerves calm down.

He shut his eyes, obscurely thinking everything. Perhaps retrieving and going through the book his friend had gifted him would do the job.

It didn't work.

He couldn't stop his innard flow of words, poison falling from the enigmas in his head and staining his patience black and fingertips vermillion. Instead, the male flung the book across the room vehemently.

His gentle fingers were surprisingly attempting to pick and toss the table opposite to him as well, but the table didn't budge. Another howl of resentment towards the lifeless object and he began to pummel the table for being bolted to the ground.

The loud poundings alerted the floor team, who came hurtling in. They wore crisp, white uniforms and looked to be former high school football players as if they ingested liters of steroids for breakfast.

One of the orderlies tackled the blonde to the ground and imprisoned him under his buff arms. No one would be needing an IQ of over 170 to realize that the blonde had bid adieu to his composure and self-restraint a long time back.

"Calm down. There is no need to be angry." the clement orderly on top of him elucidated in a feather-like tone.

That very tone coming from a man with a body like him sounded very unnatural to the smaller, more pliant male below him.

A spine curling snarl escaped from the younger's lips. This man was simply atrabilious, letting all that fake serenity roll off his tongue like that. He could take all of that to his grave and the impatient man wouldn't be giving two fucks about it.

Who knew whether it was they who needed therapy or Jimin. "Fuckers" he mumbled voicelessly before thrashing around angrily as he tried escaping from the strong grasp.

"Yut- mugguh!" Jimin cursed in Korean. He rolled over onto the man on top of him and kicked an orderly in the stomach knocking him unconscious.

His sensory neurons weren't in time to fire the signal of something being pricked into his bicep and immediately he wasn't the one in control of the strings that held his puppet of a body together anymore.

He felt his surroundings closing in on him and his body budding itself close lulling him to let go and drift off into sleep.

His senses began to blur and the room turned blue, then grey, and everything around him slowly melted away into heavy curtains of black.

AN;

not edited. this one is partially based off a personal incident .his story is very close to my heart 🌿