Page 200 of Scarbound

Chung-Hee unlocked one of the cuffs so Noeul could reach the tray. Noeul’s freed hand dropped heavily onto the mattress. He didn’t reach for anything.

Chung-Hee looked at the untouched water. Then at Noeul.

For the first time, something about the scene before him seemed to break through the story he had been telling himself.

But only for a moment.

Chung-Hee left the apartment telling himself that time would make things easier.

It didn’t.

When he returned that evening, the food remained untouched. So did the water. Noeul was still asleep. Chung-Hee stood beside the bed, staring at the tray.

“Noeul.”

No response.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

Noeul stirred faintly.

“You’ll make yourself sick like this.”

Still nothing.

Chung-Hee reached down and pulled him upright. Noeul’s head dropped forward before he slowly lifted it again. His eyes barely focused.

“What is this?” Chung-Hee demanded. “Is staying here really so unbearable that you’d rather starve yourself?”

Noeul stared through him. This emptiness gave him nothing to hold onto.

“Noeul.”

No response.

Chung-Hee touched his face. Noeul flinched. The reaction was small. Almost nothing.

Chung-Hee bent toward him, trying to force some response from him: anger, recognition, anything.

Noeul turned his face away.

“Look at me.”

Nothing.

“Please.”

Noeul’s eyes remained unfocused.

Chung-Hee caught Noeul’s chin and forced him to face him. A spark of resistance appeared. Noeul tried to pull away.

“There you are,” he whispered.

What followed blurred into fear, pain, struggle, and exhaustion. Noeul fought when he could. When he couldn’t, his mind retreated somewhere Chung-Hee could no longer reach.

By the time the room became quiet again, neither of them had anything left.

The third morning arrived beneath a pale, colorless sky. The night before, Chung-Hee had messaged his assistant and claimed illness, postponing every meeting.