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Kill Me Heal Me

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Park Jimin would like to say he lived an average life. 

He was 16 years old when he went to America to study abroad. The students were very welcoming and just a tiny bit overwhelming with their desires to have him in their clubs. It was great they were so nice, but the constant offers they threw at him was a bit too much for him. He just wanted to get through college and learn more dancing techniques. He still needed to figure out a way to politely refuse their offers, so until he figure something out, he agreed to drop off an assignment for a fellow classmate.




Parking his car, he sighed silently and made his was out of his car. Jimin walked up the stairs that led to his classmate's apartment and diligently knock on the door. Receiving no answer, he knocked again. As he debated on leaving the work in front of the doors, he jumped at a shout resounding from inside.

"You bitch! I hate you!"

Jimin frowned in concern, leaning to hear more clearly. 

"You gotta learn some respect!"  The male voice shouted again in English. Jimin bit his lip. He had to do something. He glanced at the door knob and tried it, swinging open to his surprise. He ran inside only to meet the sight of his classmate rolling down the stairs to his feet. 

"Jennifer!" He screamed. He crouched down to help her, but got pushed away from a bulky American.

"You gotta learn some respect, huh?!" The man hauled Jennifer up and continued to rain hits on her before Jimin intervened.

"Stop! Stop!"

"And who the fuck are you? The fuck are you?!" The man grabbed him by the collar roughly, landing a hit on him. His head hit the table on his way down, disorienting him. An image [Memory?] of him getting tossed to the floor as a child played in his mind.

Jimin gasped as a shadow of a man crossed over the child, not feeling the kicks the American was sending. [W-what is this?]

His pupils dilated drastically before returning to their normal state. His body felt numb as he was thrown like a doll and subjected to more kicks. As the American yelled at Jennifer, the police entered the house.

"Police! Stop right there."  Two officers looked at the situation. Jimin was on the floor, the father had his hands up, and Jennifer was cowering on a chair.

"The neighbors made a complaint."  The woman officer leaned down, speaking softly to her. "Did your father hit you?" 

Jennifer's lip trembled with a glance at her father, who was already sending her a warning look. Slowly lifting her hand, she pointed at Jimin, who was coming out of the state of numbness. "He assaulted us first. ("Jennifer!") My father found me...He hit me."

Jimin's eyes widened at the accusation. The male officer dragged him upright, pulling him outside. "Jennifer. Why are you lying? Jennifer! Tell the truth, you'll never get out of this hell! Jennifer!"




Jimin closed the door of his apartment, sighing as he took of his jacket. What a shitty day it turned out to be. The phone rang, but he let it go to voicemail.

He sat down on his couch and leaned back, hearing the voice fill the apartment. {It's Secretary Ahn. I got a call from our lawyer. What in the world happened? You're lucky the President and Madam Shin still don't know about this. I'm currently in San Francisco but I'm going to head on a plane to you. Tell me the full story and we'll figure out what to do then.}

Standing up, he walked to his bathroom, staring at his tired and beaten up reflection. Lifting his shirt, he grimaced at the blossoming bruise forming. His breath hitched as he touched it, the pain almost unbearable.

A terrible pain hit him at full force, tearing a scream out of him. Flashbacks of today's event and the odd memory came back again, adding to his torture. He couldn't support his weight, his trembles making his knees give out and sink to the floor. He reached out desperately for the pills he had on the shelf above him, but wasn't able to grip them. [Please please please!]  He begged, his vision staring to blur. He twitched again, causing the bottles to fall to the ground. 

His trembling hand stilled, and his body steadied itself. His other hand, that was gripping the sink adjusted itself, his index finger beginning to tap.

Standing up, he faced the mirror, his eyes roaming over himself. Smirking, he left the bathroom. He had some business to take care of.


He stomped out the cigarette he smoked, glancing at the same apartment from earlier. He knocked sharply, calmly waiting for the door to open.

Before the American could speak, he threw a right hook, then another, and another, not giving the man a chance to gain his boundaries. He swiftly dodged the books thrown at him, pinning the man to the floor. A big smile rested on his face. With a calm demeanor, he continued with his blows, the man crying out for mercy. He finally stood up, firmly putting his foot on the man's neck, pressing down every now and then. His bloodstained hand began tapping a four rhythm beat.

He crouched down, grabbing the man's head and holding it in place. "Look at me."  He commanded. "Touch her again, and I'll be back, and I'll break every. Single. Bone. In your fucking body. Got it?"  Once the man cried out in agreement, he stood up, walking to the door. Sensing he was being watched, he tilted his head to the second level. 

Jennifer was teary-eyed, smiling at him. "Thank you."  She mouthed.

He turned away, walking out the door. 



Jimin opened his eyes, which gave him a nice view of his ceiling. He blinked multiple times, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. He could have sworn he blacked out in the bathroom. Sitting up, he gasped at the sudden pain. He folded in on himself, scolding himself for forgetting his injuries but stopped. He looked at his clothes. He didn't wear or own leather pants, nor was he wearing them last night. Jimin looked at his hands, panic surging at the sight of his bloody knuckles. 

"...What is this?"

A knock at the door broke his thoughts. He tensed up but slightly relaxed at the familiar voice. "It's Secretary Ahn. Are you not in there?"

Jimin rushed to the door, pulling Secretary Ahn inside and closing it again. "Jimin-ah--"

"Secretary Ahn, you have to help me." Jimin pleaded, wringing his hands together. "I can't remember a single thing about last night."




Eleven years later, America, 2014

"And, that's the first time I noticed that...I had a monster living inside me." Jimin paused, and licked his dry lips. "His name is Kim Taehyung. He's the same age as me. Whenever he appears, there's a bloodbath caused by him. He resorts to violence for everything but never hurts women or children." He paused, staring at the nervous doctor. 

The doctor gestured to him. "Please, continue." 

"He takes over my body without permission and uses it for different amounts of time. When that happens, I black out and can't remember what occurred, and that causes a lot of problems." He rambled on about the tattoo he got, the mafia he got involved with, going down the long list, and didn't the doctor becoming more nervous.

" understand what this mean?" The doctor asked.

He nodded. "Of course. I got diagnosed by my first physician four years ago, Dr. Seok Ho Pil. I have D.I.D. or as it's more commonly known, Multiple Personality Disorder. "

The doctor gulped. "There's more? How many?"

Jimin held his fist out, adding fingers as he listed them out. "The ones who've appeared is the cruel Taehyung, wise and near suicidal Kim Namjoon, bomb-making Jung Hoseok-- Doctor...?" Said man was hastily packing his things.

"I'm sorry, but I can't treat you."

"But, you said you've treated people with D.I.D. before!" Jimin spoke out, holding onto the man's shoulders. 

The doctor shook his head, getting out of his hold. "I lied."

"Doctor, please--" Jimin reached out, but the doctor scurried away, flinching. 

"Don't touch me please, I'm scared." He left the room, leaving Jimin alone.

Jimin's arm fell to his side. 

[I'm not sure how many people are inside me...or how many more will show up later...But I need help.]