48. Illicit videos

                                    

                                          
Jimin
"Mr. Park," a voice boomed from behind me and I almost stumbled out of my chair snapping my neck to see a man in a dark suit with a silk tie and boots sitting on the kitchen settee as though it was his throne. He didn't only look rich, he also looked powerful. "I am relieved to a great extent that you are up. I thought after last night, you'd want to sleep some more."
"What is happening?" I asked, peeking outside. Jungkook wasn't in my vantage point. I looked back at the man, my mouth going dry at the same time as realization dawned on me that he had an extremely attractive face even with a hint of age, a few lines around his eyes gave him a rough edge, proving he had lived. 
Surely, he couldn't be a common thief. Jungkook said no one could get inside, so that begged the question, who was he and how did he get in there? How did he know me and about the last night? Was he someone I have forgotten about? 
"It's rude that Jungkook hasn't told his boyfriend about his father." He smiled. 
My eyes were wide in shock. When Jungkook bore Asian features on his face, his father didn't resemble him ethnically. Was he his adoptive father? "Jungkook said he lost his parents. How could you be his father?" I gripped the journal tight in my hands and stepped down from the chair. 
The man stood up and I couldn't help but notice how fit his body was, just like Jungkook. He walked near me and folded on a chair beside me. "You are safe now, Mr. Park. I am only here to chat." 
"Mr. Jeon?" I ventured confidently, even though my body was on high alert.
"It's actually Mr. Asher. Jungkook...chose to keep his mother's maiden name," he informed easily and picked up the strawberry cream donut that I earlier took out from the fridge, and examined it like it was fungi. "The complicated hereditary gene coding, you see. The child has greater chances to inhibit his grandparents' features. Our Jungkook takes after his maternal family the most. I couldn't believe it myself when he started developing the prominent features as a toddler, but I have tests to prove that he is my son."
I was shell-shocked. Had I not studied biology, I'd never believe it. Jungkook was an exceptional live example of complex genetics.
There was also a chance that this man was telling the truth, but I couldn't shake up the sudden thought that I had seen him somewhere. I should've screamed for Jungkook, run for the door, but his voice was so soothing that it lulled me in the false sense of safety. "I don't know why would Jungkook tell me that-"
"I were dead?" He guffawed in his deep tenor. 
I remained tight-lipped. A spasm of pain flickered in his eyes before it disappeared. "His mother is gone. At least that part is true."
"I'll go wake Jungkook up."
Just as I swayed, he gripped my wrist and it was at this moment I realized the sensation in my arms was back. Overwhelmed by fear and relief, my body froze. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
He left my arm as soon as he held it and pointed at the chair. "I actually came to chat with you. For the conversation we are going to have, Jungkook won't be required."
If Jungkook had virile masculinity, this man had dominance dripping through his eyes. I found myself agreeing with him. My heart was pounding in my chest and my face was sweating as I uncomfortably shifted on the chair, curious about what he had to say.
"Before I show you something, I want you to know that you can trust me and count on me. I have been your ally," he informed easily and I gulped, my thoughts all over the place when he extended a small device towards me.
I hesitated but looked down at it anyway.  
A clip played out one time and I shook my head. Desperately wanting to prove my eyes wrong, I reminded myself and played it again and again. After watching it four times, I realized that nothing was going to change. 
The clip was taken at three different time stamps, which were shown at the bottom. On the small screen, I saw Jungkook breaking down his apartment ceiling and getting out on the street where a red car was parked.
In the second clip, he got into the car and drove away. The same car that once caused my soul to leave my body via my toes when its headlights tailed in my direction.
In the third clip, I watched the man who was gripping the steering wheel with one hand while hiding underneath his hood, his face hazy. I watched myself in the distance and remembered how terrified I was that day when I went to inspect Jungkook's Jeep condition.
When I pulled over in my backyard that day, running wildly inside the manor to find Jungkook there, I was made to believe what I saw. I'd on many occasions caught a red car driving by in front of the manor, but I never knew it belonged to my stalker, that it belonged to Jungkook. 
While hyperventilating when I saw him that morning on my couch and assumed he was there all along, when he comforted me into reassurance, I was being fooled by him. 
The shadow that was standing in front of my window, stiff, unmoving at all, bearing a knife, was Jungkook. 
It meant that as I ran for my life, tears blinded me as I drove like a maniac, thinking where to run to, it was Jungkook who terrorized me and led me straight to his house. 
Thanks for trusting me, Jimin. I won't ever do anything to break your trust.
I could've died in my panic while dialing Jungkook's number from my car. I could've died on seeing the same red car blocking my path to the police station. 
It meant that Jungkook was the one who was stalking me for three years.
If Jungkook was my stalker, who was Noah? I had moments when I felt that Noah didn't know me at times. How could he when Jungkook was my real stalker all along? 
I am telling you this because I don't gain anything from lying. Everything that I am is what I am showing you. You might like it if I say to you that you are the only person that matters to me. If you don't trust me, test me. I'll come out with flying fucking colors."
How could I let a man who threatened me in my bed? I let him touch me. I felt a dizzying interference in my head and I held my skull with both hands. The device fell from my hands and I looked around.
Mr. Asher was scrutinizing me curiously as if he has been looking forward to seeing me like this for a long time. The interference gave way to ringing in my head, and soon enough, my whole body broke into a cold sweat. 
I was having another fit. 
Every time my PTSD hit me, the pictures of my family crowded my head from left and center, but this time, I was able to see flashes of a garden, a palace, a beautiful young man, a boxing arena, a dorm room, and a mountaintop.
Unlike every time when the evil intimidated me, my body and mind calmly tried to focus on holding on to one picture and zooming in on this time. Something unusual was happening to me. 
"The Bahamas is all good," he pointed around the big windows. "But I am sure you'll love to spend some time with us, too. I'll arrange your travel. Just let me know."
I gripped onto the voice and blinked my eyes open. So, I was in the Bahamas. Despite how I was sweating, I looked straight into his eyes and exhaled slowly, not wanting to show him weakness. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Are you seriously asking me this question, Mr. Park?" He asked haughtily as though I was a moron. "Jungkook has no empathy. He can't sympathize with people's pain. He is a narcissist who doesn't care about others. I won't put it behind me that he's a sociopath."
"You are wrong." 
The words escaped my mouth faster than I could think. He and I both were surprised. "I have seen him cry for me. I have seen him care for me. How could he be apathetic?" At the same time, was I really ignoring what I had just seen?
Of course, Jungkook had to be a psychopath. 
And the same psychopath was standing by the door, his body stiff with easily radiating tension as he scrutinized us with murder in his eyes.