I loud bang shakes the whole building. A muscular man comes charging threw the wall and grabs me, holding me up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I squeal and kick him as hard as I can in his chest, but he doesn't let up. He carries me all the way to his black Hyundai Porter, then throws me in the back seat. For my kidnapper, he's being surprisingly gentle with me. I scream as he slams the car door, banging it on my head. I yelp in pain as everything goes black.

"Mr. Jeong, the boss wishes to see you," my coworker announced, a hint of urgency in her voice. Oh shit. The boss? Why would the boss want to see me? Has something gone wrong with my work? A million thoughts raced through my mind, each one intensifying my anxiety. Determined to face the inevitable meeting head-on, I quickly straightened my posture and mustered the courage to make my way toward the elevator. The click of my non-slip shoes echoed in the empty hallway as I hurriedly scurried toward the waiting metallic doors.

Once inside the elevator, my heart thumped loudly in my chest as I pressed the button labeled '42nd' - the top floor of the imposing high-rise building. With each floor we surpassed, the unease within me grew exponentially, twisting my stomach into knots. I took deep, slow breaths, trying to calm the rising panic. "It'll be fine," I whispered to myself, attempting to boost my confidence.

As the elevator doors slid open, revealing the pristine and sleek surroundings, I stepped out and began a slow, deliberate walk toward the grand, imposing doors that separated me from my boss. Sweat formed on my brow, despite the air-conditioning's best efforts to keep the atmosphere cool. I had to remind myself to maintain composure. "Confidence," I repeated under my breath, aligning my spine and lifting my chin, projecting an air of confidence that I hoped would mask my inner turmoil.

Finally, I reached the imposing doors, a silent prayer for strength passing through my lips. As I extended my hand towards the cool, polished handle, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. If only he wasn't my boss; with his slicked-back black hair, piercing blue eyes, and undeniable physical presence, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to go on a date with him. But reality brought me crashing back to earth. He and I lived in different worlds, separated by professional boundaries and responsibilities.

The doors swung open, revealing the man I had come to fear and respect. His commanding presence filled the room, sending a shiver down my spine. His deep growl-like voice gave weight to his address. "Mr. Jeong," he began, his eyes locking with mine, "you are late."

This series is a compilation of love letters I have written for my boyfriend over the past few months. I hope you enjoy it, and remember, someday, you'll find your "one" too. :)

A book of well-crafted poems written by a group of well-crafted authors

WARNING: This story contains graphic content and triggers. Viewer discretion advised.

He greeted me with a sweet kiss before heading to the bathroom. Just then, my phone started ringing from another room, and I rushed over to check it, half-expecting it to be Mia calling off our plans. But instead, all I saw was “No Caller ID” flashing on the screen.

I set my phone aside and let it ring- seventeen times- before finally picking up. “Hello?” All I could hear was this heavy breathing on the other end. Then a voice broke through, “Break up with your boyfriend.” My heart raced as my eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me?” I shot back, my mind swirling with questions like ‘Who is this?’ and ‘Why do I need to break up with Brendan?’

Without thinking too much, I blurted out, “Who is this?” More heavy breathing filled the silence until a deep, distorted voice delivered eight words that would stick with me forever: “Hello Seo, this is the Hotline to Heaven.”

...

As we reach the bar area in the basement, my mind drifts back to that night when we had a few too many drinks and ended up with hickeys all over us. But this time is different- before I know it, he grabs a bottle and smashes it against my head.I stagger back, feeling warmth trickle down from my scalp. Instinct kicks in, and I grab a shard of glass from the broken bottle. With all the strength I can muster, I hurl it at him while shouting, “Stay the hell away from me!” Clenching my eyes shut, I silently wish this was just some nightmare. Part of me braces for him to come after me again, but instead there’s nothing but eerie silence enveloping me.

When I finally open my eyes, Brendan is nowhere to be seen. Cautiously creeping behind the counter, I glance down to find him gasping for air, the piece of glass embedded in his neck. Panic floods through me. “Shit,” I say, “I just killed my boyfriend.”

When I was me­rely 7 years old a devastating plague­ virus swept through my family and the world leaving be­hind a trail of destruction, several ye­ars have passed and now the de­ceased are me­andering the stree­ts. Do I really have to link up with one of the­ survivor groups nearby? Or can I simply push through independe­ntly akin to what I've been doing for the­ past 9 years? My situation definitely se­ems to be taking a downward spiral... well who care­s? I'll figure it out. After all, I am some sort of super genius.

There's a girl I’ve liked for a while now, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship. Her name is Lisa, and we’ve been close friends for a pretty long time now. Ugh, I hate school, I thought to myself. I walk towards the school entrance, but before I can make it, I hear a voice calling me, making me pause under the half-dead cherry blossoms. “Hey, Chris!” I watch as Lisa runs over to me. I look at her as she approaches, my ice-cold gaze softening slightly. “Ah, Lisa. What can I do for you today?”