I'm Sorry

Kane woke up gasping for breath, trembling from a nightmare. It was the same nightmare every single time, reminding him of the pain. He was terrified for a while, sweat covering his face, but as he calmed down and looked around, he became alert. He remembered what had happened and immediately looked for his phone, but it was nowhere to be found. 

He scanned his surroundings and headed toward the door. He wasn’t expecting anything—he thought the door would be locked. But to his surprise, it was open. Scanning the place, he realized he was in a huge house—a mansion. He furrowed his brows as he walked around, ending up in the kitchen, where food was laid out on the dining table, but no one was in sight. 

The living room was also deserted, and an eerie silence filled the entire mansion. His gut tightened with anxiety. 

He had no idea what had happened to his friends. He was worried about the two of them, and his concerns doubled when he realized he hadn’t been alone in the car all those times. He had mentioned the storage! Kane couldn’t help but curse himself, wondering how dumb he could be. 

Trying to get over it, he walked past the living room and tried to open the door to leave. He thought he would have to force it open, but no— 'Am I even being kidnapped?'

Fresh air welcomed him, much to his surprise. 

Instead of feeling relieved, it only made him more anxious. He ran around to confirm his theory. And when he realized he was right, all hell broke loose. 

He was on an island. Alone! 

There were no boats anywhere, and judging by the surroundings, there were no nearby islands either. 

He ransacked his mind, questioning what to do and why he was there. A conclusion formed in his head. Just as it did, someone spoke behind him. 

“Kane...” 

He didn’t turn around. He was trying to calm himself. He wanted to kill the owner of that voice. And since they were alone on the island, no one could stop him—no one could even arrest him. 

The person he hated most—the one who caused his suffering—was speaking to him. He couldn’t just forgive. He didn’t want to forgive. His plan to see him suffer kept running in his head like a broken record. 

“What do you want? Why am I here?” He spoke in the coldest tone he could muster. 

“I don’t plan to hurt you. Just stay here for—” 

“For what?!” Kane snapped, finally turning to face him. 

King’s amber eyes were still dull, still lifeless. They always caught Kane off guard. He wanted to rip them from their owner, to kill him right then and there. But that would be an easy death. He wanted to see King devastated. He wanted to drain the life from his eyes. But it seemed like he never would—because there was nothing left in them to take. 

“I need to get out of here to bring you down. I need to get out of here because I want to see you in agony. I want to see you suffer. I want to see you break and bleed.” 

He was seething with anger, unable to bear looking at King for long—it reminded him of everything that had happened. Much to his annoyance, King didn’t waver. Kane couldn’t even read him. There was nothing in his eyes. 

“You can do all of that here. You have to stay for a month. If you want to kill me, I’ll let you do it here,” King said, his tone laid-back. 

Kane’s rage nearly made him cry. He felt like he was the only one hurting. Even if he hurt King, nothing would happen. 

Everything—every effort—felt useless. He grabbed King’s collar and smirked. “Give me back the company. I might spare you.” 

Even killing the bastard wouldn’t satisfy him. It wouldn’t bring back everything and everyone he had lost. Perhaps, he could just take what was rightfully his—the company his parents had built, cherished, and loved. That was all he had left. 

Materialistic as it may seem, but that was his only anchor now. 

He couldn’t let the bastard in front of him tarnish and ruin what his parents had worked so hard to achieve. 

King’s lifeless eyes flickered. He chuckled. “Ask me anything, Kane. But not that. I will never give it back to you.” 

Overwhelmed by rage, Kane pounced on him. But King didn’t even try to dodge the punches. He laughed softly, those lifeless eyes staring back at Kane. 

Kane had only landed a few blows when King collapsed. He left him there. He didn’t care. 

He was too enraged to care. 

Kane spent his time calming down. He needed to focus, and he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t thinking straight. 

He bathed, ate, and lay down on the sofa, lost in thought. Then, something came to mind. 

He rushed outside and found King still lying unconscious. 

Now that he was thinking clearly, he realized King might have his phone. He could use it to call for backup—or at least get an update. 

Kneeling, Kane stared at him. His eyes were closed this time. No lifeless amber eyes in sight. Kane felt his own body relax—unlike earlier. 

King wasn’t moving at all. 

Kane didn’t realize he had been staring at him for five minutes straight. 

He had all the time in the world, anyway. No rush. 

While checking him, he noticed bruises all over King’s body. He frowned, trying not to feel any sympathy. 

He was about to check his pockets for a phone when he accidentally lifted the hem of King’s shirt. What he saw made him pause. 

Those bruises... Was he the one who inflicted them? 

But no, they seemed excessive. Too much. 

Curious, he carefully lifted King’s shirt higher, revealing his chest. His body was battered. His face was covered in bruises, welts, and wounds. King wore long sleeves, so Kane pulled them up, seeing the same thing. 

'Was my beating that intense earlier?'

Thinking back, Kane realized King had passed out quickly, too. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he wasn’t sure if he had done this. 

He didn’t want to pity the monster before him. 

But something within him still felt sympathy. 

He reasoned with himself—he wouldn’t kill him like this. No. He wanted to kill him slowly. He wanted to watch him suffer. 

Still, he found nothing in King’s pockets. No devices. Nothing. 

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he carried King to the sofa. Just by lifting him, Kane could feel the heat radiating from his body. 

'Damn it.'

He didn’t treat him. The only courtesy he offered was placing him on the sofa. 

Kane found books under the TV table. Since he couldn’t do much else, he spent time reading. The TV was useless—no internet, no cable. Just a screen that needed a flash drive or CD. 

As he read, he planned his escape. But every plan led to nothing—he couldn’t do anything without King waking up. 

He glanced at King, still unconscious. Thankfully, he was still breathing. Kane still had a chance to get out. 

His gaze lingered on King’s face longer than he realized. He only snapped out of it when King suddenly moved. 

King didn’t wake up. But Kane froze. 

King was crying in his sleep. 

The cold, stoic King—crying. His body shook. 

Kane knew what was happening. He had experienced it firsthand. 

King was having a nightmare. 

He gradually calmed, but silent tears still streamed down his face. He mumbled something. 

Kane leaned in to hear. 

“I—I’m sorry... sorry... I’m sorry... I—I’m sorry...” 

Hearing that, Kane froze. 

He didn’t know who King was talking to in his dreams, but rage slowly boiled inside him again. He forced himself to calm down. 

King stayed like that until he drifted back into deep slumber. 

Kane sighed. He had no choice. 

Glaring at the unconscious King, he cursed under his breath. 

Then, still seething with anger, he tossed a comforter over him. 

And, with no other option, he returned to the room where he had slept earlier.