Molka

Chapter 27

The man turned, his hands shaking violently. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered. His forehead was glistening, and there was a wet splotch on the collar of his shirt. Dahye had cut him, but only slightly; a thin line of blood appeared at his throat.

Staring into his face, Dahye felt a jolt of recognition.

She knew this face. She had seen it before.

Trying to connect the dots, she lowered the knife.

The man, seeing an opportunity, lunged toward her.

Without hesitation, she slashed downward, leaving a long gash on his arm.

Blood spurted from the wound. He howled, and the realization came to her.

“You’re the guy from IT—Cho Junyoung. What the hell are you doing inside my home?”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “Please don’t cut off my cock.”

Eunhye giggled, and Junyoung twisted around, searching for the source of the noise.

“You looked through my stuff?” Dahye asked incredulously.

“I’m sorry. I really am. If you let me go, I won’t say a word to anybody.”

“Shut up.”

“I swear! I’m very trustworthy. I’m an honest person, really.

I’ve never stolen anything or hurt anybody or …

” Junyoung babbled as he tried to reach into his back pocket without her noticing.

“I would never do anything to harm you. I broke in because I was worried about you. You promised me we would get lunch, and then you disappeared! It was so sudden. What was I supposed to do?”

Eunhye circled him, no longer laughing. “He’s a dirty liar,” she said. “His phone is in his back pocket.”

“If you don’t put your hands where I can see them, I’m going to rip your throat out,” Dahye said coolly.

“Alright, alright! You don’t need to be so aggressive. Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you. I did it because I care about you.” He showed her his open palms, then softened his tone. “Because I love you.”

A look of disgust crossed Dahye’s features. “You’re a fucking creep.” She kicked his balls, and Junyoung fell to the floor with a groan. Dahye crouched and began removing everything from his pockets. His wallet, his phone, and … her underwear. “You fucking pig.”

“I’m … not … a … pig,” Junyoung choked out in between gasps. Tears streamed down his face.

“Look at the little piglet cry,” Eunhye taunted, as Dahye reached down, peeling her sock from her foot. She balled it up and rammed it down his throat before grabbing a clump of his hair. She tried to drag him toward the bedroom, but he was too heavy.

“Get up,” she snapped. When he didn’t respond, she kicked him again. “Get up! Walk into the bedroom and lie flat on the floor.”

Reluctantly, Junyoung got to his feet, snot leaking down his chin. The sock in his mouth tasted awful—like sour sweat—and he could hardly breathe through his clogged nose. He dragged himself inside and did as she told him, lying down next to her mattress.

She yanked off his shoes one by one, then undid his shoelaces, using them to bind his wrists and his ankles. With a quick tug, she tested to make sure they were secure.

“I’m going to ask you some questions,” she said. “I’ll remove this, but if you move, or scream, or try anything …” She pointed the cleaver at his groin, and Junyoung nodded furiously.

“He’s going to scream,” Eunhye said, sounding bored.

“He won’t,” Dahye said. “You won’t scream, will you, Junyoung?”

“Mmmh.” He shook his head, confused. She was talking so strangely, as if there was another person in the room. There was no explanation for it except that she had completely lost her mind.

Dahye removed the sock from Junyoung’s mouth, and instantly he let out an ear-splitting howl.

Without hesitating, she shoved the sock back in, and at the same time, slashed the front of his jeans with the knife.

Junyoung felt the blade nick the top of his groin through the thin fabric of his underwear.

He thrashed desperately against his bindings.

“You fucking moron,” Dahye snarled. “What did I just say?”

“Told you so,” Eunhye said. Dahye rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. You were right,” Dahye said. She turned to Junyoung. “This is your last chance. If you scream again—” Once more she made a stabbing motion toward his groin, and Junyoung flinched. “You know what I’m capable of,” she warned. “You don’t want to test me.”

He swallowed, looking down. The front of his jeans was dark with blood. She removed the gag. This time, he remained silent.

“Why did you break into my apartment?” Dahye asked.

“Because I was worried about you,” Junyoung whispered.

“He’s lying,” Eunhye hissed. “There’s something wrong with him. You saw the underwear in his pocket. He’s sick in the head. We need to get rid of him, to cut him to—”

“Stop it,” Dahye snapped. “Let me talk to him.”

“Who are you talking to?” Junyoung asked.

“I don’t think I said you could talk.”

He clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes continued to dart around the room.

“Did you know Jang Hyukjoon?” Dahye asked.

“The rich chaebol kid? No. I had no idea who he was until he went missing.” He paused. “That’s his dick you cut off, right?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry. I forgot.” Wincing, he tried to move his wrists. She had bound them so tightly that the laces were cutting into his skin.

“How did you get my address?”

“I looked up your information at work. I’m in IT, remember? We have special privileges. I can access almost any information on our network,” he said, trying to pull his ankles apart. It was pointless. “When you didn’t show up for our lunch date, I looked up your address.”

Eunhye was standing above Junyoung, her fingers nearly touching his face. “Stop wasting time,” she said, a hungry look on her face.

“That doesn’t explain how you got here,” Dahye said, ignoring her.

“Right,” Junyoung said slowly. “I went to the address listed in your file and talked to your mother. She told me you didn’t live there any longer, so I waited outside, and that same night, your friend showed up.”

“My friend?” Dahye asked, confused.

“The woman with the giant boobs. I think her name was Bora …?”

Stricken, Dahye got up. “You’re a liar,” she cried, jabbing the blade toward him. Junyoung let out a little shriek but swallowed it halfway.

“Please! I’m not lying,” he stammered. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Your friend showed up, and then your mother came out, and the two of them had a conversation about you. They said—”

Before he could finish his sentence, she shoved the sock back into his mouth. Junyoung gagged as tears sprang to his eyes. Through his blurred vision, he saw Dahye pacing back and forth, her cheeks bright red.

“See if he’s lying,” Eunhye said. “Check his phone.”

Dahye went to retrieve Junyoung’s phone from the living room and returned, looking through his messages. There were a few threads with his coworkers and one with his mother, but nothing about her that she could find.

“What about his pictures?” Eunhye asked. Dahye nodded.

Junyoung’s most recent pictures were of Hyukjoon’s severed penis. Heat crawled down Dahye’s neck. “You piece of shit,” she murmured. “What were you going to do with this?”

He shook his head. “Mmhhh,” he mumbled through the gag. She held the phone to his face. Crying softly, he watched as she deleted them one by one.

Just as she was about to exit from the app, a video caught her eye. It looked grainy and familiar. She tapped on it and recognized it instantly. It had been taken inside the restrooms at work.

At first, the video showed an empty toilet. But seconds later, the stall opened, and a woman entered. Dahye recognized the person instantly, and her skin crawled. It was her. The woman in the video was her.

“What is this?” she asked. “Where the fuck did you get this?” She shoved the phone into Junyoung’s face. “Did Hyukjoon send this to you? Did you lie to me? Were you working with him?”

“No,” he tried to say through the gag.

“You were in that chat with him, weren’t you?

You were sharing pictures of me? Videos?

And what—you broke in to get more footage?

How long have you been watching me?” She dug the tip of the blade into his cheek, carving a small divot into his flesh.

Blood filled the hole and spilled down his cheek. Dahye tore the sock out from his mouth.

“I haven’t—I don’t know—I—”

“Answer me!” she shrieked. “How long?” She looked around, her eyes frantic. “Are there cameras in here now?”

“No! It was just at work! I swear—I swear on my life. I wasn’t lying. I had no idea who Hyukjoon was, and—”

Junyoung began to sob, silently, his mouth wide open.

As Dahye stared at him, the room grew hazy and indistinct.

Eunhye’s movements were jerky and erratic.

She was nearly touching him now. She looked at Dahye as though asking for permission, and Dahye gave her a small nod.

Eunhye smiled. Her face seemed to split apart, and she began to sing.

“All pigs go to the slaughterhouse to die.”

+

“I’m going to show you a movie. I want you to watch the whole thing.”

Junyoung, thinking it to be a trick, squeezed his eyes shut. Dahye grabbed his face and dug the tip of her fingernail into the open wound on his cheek. “I said watch,” she snarled. The pain made him gasp, and he complied.

The video began to play. It had been taken in her bedroom. Right away, Junyoung recognized the man on the screen as Jang Hyukjoon, and he began to tremble.

It was the video of his murder.

Junyoung tried to turn his head, but once again, Dahye grabbed him and forced him to watch.

It was far worse than anything Junyoung could have imagined.

He could see clearly Hyukjoon’s fear, the way the man screamed and howled and dragged himself away, his blood spilling across the floor.

Warmth spread along the inside of Junyoung’s thigh. He’d wet himself.