EGOIST (Sang Woo x Fem!OC) [ONGOING]

Something odd has happened—I've gone blind.

I believe it now—the saying that your senses are heightened when you lose your sight. Smell, touch, hear, taste.

I can smell dampened grass and smog, feel the grit of concrete kissing my skin; feel the cold air wrap around my naked body, and a tight restraint around my wrists and ankles. I hear the faint buzz of the city, and the shrill cry for help.

"—Is anyone there? Please help me!" She cries in panic. "I can't see anything!"

I try to roll around, tolerating the sharp pain of the road pricking my joints and back, until I finally sit on my ass. Not so far, I hear shuffling in the dark.

"Who's there?" I snap, hearing footsteps scraping off the ground. "Who's there?" I ask more sternly before feeling the enigmatic presence right behind me.

"Don't move." The presence says, with the voice of a young girl.

I listen, I stay still.

Then, I feel a cold sensation slip between my wrists. Slim metal sneaks its way between the tight restraints that bound my hands. Then, with a sharp flick, the ropes had unraveled itself from me. I waste no time, unveiling myself to see the dark road in where we had been thrown off, and somehow feeling the night chill even more with my sight back. I move on to the tethers of my ankles, untying them quickly until I finally rush to the pile of clothes thrown not too far from me.

Cold, cold. I feel the icy ground nipping at my soles as I put on my trousers before quickly moving on to my socks and loafers. And as I turn to finally face my rescuers, I was taken aback to see the face of a young girl. Barely sixteen, she looked small despite her towering height over me. She hides one hand in her jacket pocket, the other wielding a pocket knife. She looks at me with an aloof gaze, expecting nothing in return. Still, I softly say, "Thank you."

She does not acknowledge it, instead turns to the other noise ripping through the quiet street.

"Please—help me!"

I turn around and see a second woman writhing on the cold ground.

"I know you're still there! Please, please help me!"

The young girl and I exchange a look, quiet but knowing. She seemed hesitant, though, yet knew what I meant just by looking at her expectantly. She does not make a sound, but I could hear her quiet sigh in my head. So, she walks over to the half-naked woman, holding her boney shoulders down less delicately as she did mine. "Don't move." She says, but the woman continues to struggle.

"Get me out! Get me out!"

"I can't do that if you won't stop moving."

The girl slyly, and carefully, slips the shard blade between the woman's restraints—sawing, and then, a flicker. Finally, the woman is free.

Hastily, she writhes as the girl continues to free her ankles. The woman takes her blindfold off and looks at the girl by her feet. "Hurry-hurry! It's so cold."

The girl rolls her eyes

Another flick—the woman is completely free.

I faintly recognise her. She was an apparent figure back in that game, but I barely remember her name. But her frizzy hair stood out in a way that almost looked dominating—empowering— that made me recognise her almost immediately.

212.

She gets up and rushes to her pile of clothes, looking almost pathetic. Even her desperation looked familiar. But her state—or rather—her entirety is not too far from something I resent; something I fear to become.