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Speak of the Devilish

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"Fuck no! As tempting as it is, a baby would ruin everything! You'd get all fat and ugly, too, Bum. I don't want a mate who's fat and ugly." Bum remembered Sangwoo's harsh words as the third test revealed the third set of pink, vertical lines. Worry and panic filled his torso, two unsettling feelings he knew all too well living with Sangwoo. Bum calmed himself, taking a deep breath, and gathering his thoughts to think of a solution.
Abortion? Suicide? Sangwoo?
The first option would require pills or pain or both. How would he know if the abortion was a success? With the second option in mind, he directed his gaze away from the test trembling in his hand, to his left wrist. His previous attempts mocking him in the form of stigmatizing scars. Would he fail this time, too? The third option, tell Sangwoo and suffer the consequences. What would Sangwoo do to the baby?

Bum snapped back to reality. He needed to focus his mind on discarding the tests, all three of them. His urine seasoned them, the pungent smell was too prominent to be masked. Bum bundled the tests together with a toilet paper covering, and carefully hid them in the bottom of the trash. After tidying up the sink and counter a bit, he returned to the kitchen table, plopping down in the nearest chair. Bum crossed his arms on the table and rested his head there. Silence rang in his ears, with the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the background. He shifted his body slightly, allowing his fingers access to his nape. His fingers caressed the tender area Sangwoo had sunk his teeth into. The bite mark that claimed Bum as his mate, as his property.

The fetid smoke of cigarettes woke Bum. He drowsily looked around, only capable of moving his eyes. When did I fall asleep? Instead of being at the table, he was lying on a futon. He couldn't make out his surroundings, everything was hazy. Confusion urged him to call out for Sangwoo, but his mouth only uttered a wheezing sound. Before he had a chance to lift himself, he felt a sweaty palm slither up his thigh. A harsh, neon red darkened the already dim room.
Bum's eyes dilated with horror, his complexion turned a ghostly pale as the bloodcurdling voice echoed around the room. His muscles tensed, beads of sweat fell from the hovering figure onto his face. A colossal grip on Bum's waist harshly flipped him on his side. Pants of breath heated his nape. Slimy thrusts slipped in between his thighs.
"Unc-" Bum's plea was cut short.
"Bum! Wake up, goddamnit!"
A dream, no, a, a memory.