" Kim Taehyung...."

*THUD*

Scream. I almost did. The sudden loud clang of something falling made me snap my neck in the direction of a darkened corner, most probably the bathroom. I held my breath gulping loudly, fisting my white coat in trepidation.

"Taehyung...." 

I breathed out his name, internally swearing on holy Mary as I trudged towards the darker portion of the cell. Darkness swallowed me whole again. It wasn't just dim; it was a thick, suffocating black that pressed in on me, stealing my breath. This was Taehyung's world.

My hand instinctively reached for the small flashlight I'd brought, its beam cutting a narrow swathe through the gloom. The air was frigid, a damp chill that seeped into my bones, raising goosebumps on my arms. God, it's cold in here.

"Taehyung?"  I called softly but loud this time, biting on my lip harshly that it almost bled. I didn't want to startle him. The file painted a terrifying picture: violent outbursts, unpredictable behavior. But the face in the photo... that face didn't belong to a monster. Or did it? 

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I took a tentative step forward, the concrete floor cold beneath my shoes. The beam of my flashlight danced across the bare walls, revealing nothing but shadows.

Where is he? My senses were on high alert, every nerve ending screaming at me to turn back. This was insane. Walking into the cell of a patient labeled as dangerous... what was I thinking? I'm a psychiatrist, not a superhero. But something, a stubborn flicker of determination, kept me rooted to the spot. I had to do this. Stakes were too high to turn back now.

Suddenly, a blur of movement in the periphery of my vision caught my attention. My reflexes, honed from years of self-defense training, kicked in before my mind could even register the threat. I ducked, twisting my body just in time to avoid the projectile that whizzed past my head. A steel tray clattered against the wall behind me, the sharp clang slicing through the silence.

 That was close. Too close.

My hand tightened around the flashlight, the beam shaking slightly. He's here. And he's dangerous. The image of his angelic face flashed through my mind, a suffocating contrast to the violence of the moment. How can someone so beautiful be so... broken?

I turned slowly, my flashlight beam trembling in my hand. And it was then I saw him.

My breath hitched. My body went rigid, every muscle locking tight. He was there, in the corner of the cell, a figure sculpted from shadows and rage. His hair, a tangled, dark mess, hung down, obscuring his face. But even in the dim light filtering in from the flashlight, I could see the frantic pulse fluttering in his neck, a summoning reminder of the raw, untamed energy contained within him. This is him. Kim Taehyung.

He was... different from the photo. The angelic beauty was gone, replaced by something raw and primal. His clothes were ragged, torn, hanging loosely on his frame. His body trembled, a constant, violent shudder that radiated outwards, filling the already charged atmosphere with an almost palpable tension. A monster. The word echoed in my mind, unbidden.  

He's just a patient, Y/N. A sick patient. I told myself, trying to summon the clinical bravery I'd been trained to employ. But my heart was pounding against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that drowned out my rational thoughts. He's dangerous. Get out. Run. The instinct to flee was overwhelming, but I forced myself to stay rooted to the spot. I had to.

Before I could react, before I could even process what I was seeing, he moved. It was a sudden, explosive movement, a blur of motion that made me flinch. And then he roared. A deep, guttural sound that resonated through the cell, vibrating in my chest.

"Why are you even here?!" he yelled, his voice raw, thick with anger and... pain? 

Even in his rage, I could hear a flicker of something else, something that sounded suspiciously like hurt. "Go away!"  he screamed, the words laced with a desperation that chilled me to the bone.

He's scared.

First thought that flashed through my mind, surprising me. 

It was true, I wasn't an expert in dealing with patients like him, the ones with untamed ferocity and violent instincts, especially not in a situation like this, all alone and on my own. But during my years at research facility in Melbourne, I'd came across hundreds of personalities like him, interacted with them and researched on their behavioural patterns and responses. So I wasn't a rookie to his actions, expressions and most importantly his emotions. 

It was the body language of the patients around me that I'd mastered over which actually gave me the right to call myself psychiatrist in the first place.

Beneath the anger, beneath the violence, there was fear. He's terrified. It was a fragile, fleeting realization, but it was enough to stop me from turning and running.  

I took a tentative step forward, my hand outstretched in a gesture of peace. "Taehyung," I said softly, hoping the sound of his name, spoken gently, might reach through the wall of anger he'd erected around himself. Maybe, just maybe, it would spark a flicker of recognition, a sense of familiarity.

It was a mistake.

My movement, my voice, seemed to ignite something within him. He recoiled, stumbling back against the wall, his eyes widening with a fear so raw it made my breath catch in my throat. He roared, a sound filled with such pain and fury that it resonated deep within me. 

"Stop coming towards me!" he screamed, his voice cracking with the force of his emotions. "You're cruel! You all are! I hate everyone!"

The words were spat out like venom, each one a barb aimed at... what? Me? The world? Himself? "I hate you!" he screeched, the last two words laced with a particular intensity that made my stomach clench.

"No, you don't, Taehyung," I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. I met his eyes, those sparkling, breathtaking eyes that seemed so incongruous with the rage contorting his features. They were filled with a storm of emotions – fear, anger, pain – but beneath it all, I saw something else, a vulnerability that tugged at my heart. 

The mocking contrast between the softness of his features and the untamed wildness of his personality was jarring, throwing me off balance. He's a paradox.

His breath hitched, and the fire in his eyes flickered, replaced by a raw, heartbreaking vulnerability. "You all are the same..." he panted, his voice cracking. "You are like them. You'll hurt me too. That's why I hate you... get out!" His entire body shook with the force of his ragged breaths, and he stumbled, his hand hitting a steel stool that was lying nearby.

Oh fuck. Not this again.

My eyes widened. The stool... it was heavy, potentially dangerous.He was in a fragile state, his emotions spiraling out of control. He could hurt himself. Or worse, he could hurt me. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't back down now.

He stared back at me, his eyes locked on mine. The raw fury that had consumed him moments before seemed to... lessen, just a fraction. His hand, which had been gripping the steel stool like a weapon, slowly relaxed, his fingers loosening their hold. 

 He didn't break eye contact with me, and as he lowered his hand on the stool, I felt a churning in my gut, a sense of foreboding that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Something's not right.

"Taehyung," I said calmly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don't. You'll hurt yourself, please... I'm here to help you." I took another small step closer, my hand still outstretched. Just a little closer...

But before I could say another word, before I could even process what was happening, he moved again. This time, it was different. There was no rage, no overt aggression. It was something far more terrifying. He limped towards me, his gait uneven, almost painful to watch. But in his eyes, I saw not anger, but pure, unadulterated fear. And in his hand, he still clutched the stool, his weapon of defence.

A loud, broken cry escaped his lips, a sound that was both terrifying and heartbreaking. It was the cry of a wounded animal, trapped and desperate. And then he charged.

The world seemed to slow down. I saw him coming at me, the stool raised high, his face contorted in a mask of terror. My mind screamed at me to move, to run, to do something. But I was frozen, my feet rooted to the spot. His pain, his fear, it was like a physical force, holding me captive. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare into his eyes, those beautiful, haunted eyes, as he hurtled towards me.

Terror seized my senses, a cold wave washing over me. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that I was about to be hurt. I braced myself, waiting for the impact, waiting for the pain. And then... everything went black.