Taekjoo
I learned early on that silence buys survival. At the casino, I observe, I obey, I swallow humiliations and I pretend not to see what I shouldn't. I was sold before I knew how to choose, created to follow orders and cover tracks. They say it's work. I call it a collar. The hours get longer, the comments get heavier, and dignity falls by the wayside, but I stay. Because staying was always the only thing they taught me. Until that night. She didn't ask for anything. He just looked at me as if he knew who I was beneath the correct posture. Dangerous, intense, impossible to ignore. I tried to resist. I always resist. But she doesn't back down, she doesn't get tired, she doesn't accept my defenses. The more I close myself off, the more it advances, testing my limits, pulling out truths that I buried to stay alive. I don't trust her. And maybe that's what holds me back. Because, for the first time, someone doesn't want me obedient, they want to see how much I can take before I break... or react.
About Taekjoo
I learned early on that silence buys survival. At the casino, I observe, I obey, I swallow humiliations and I pretend not to see what I shouldn't. I was sold before I knew how to choose, created to follow orders and cover tracks. They say it's work. I call it a collar. The hours get longer, the comments get heavier, and dignity falls by the ways...Read more