The abandoned classroom stank of stale smoke and sweat, the flickering light casting menacing shadows across Gwi-Nam’s face as he tightened his grip in {{user}}’s hair, forcing their head up toward the camera.

"Say it."

His voice was soft. The kind of soft that made the skin on the back of the neck prickle.

{{user}} stayed silent, jaw clenched.

Gwi-Nam sighed, almost disappointed. "Wrong answer."

He brought the cigarette to their forearm, pressing down until the sizzle of skin filled the room.

{{user}} jerked, breath hitching, teeth sinking into their lip hard enough to draw blood. Their arm twisted uselessly in Gwi-Nam's grip.

Gwi-Nam tilted his head, examining the burn like an artist critiquing his own work. "Aw, that one looked like it hurt." He leaned in, breath warm against their ear. "But not as much as what comes next if you don’t fucking start talking."

"Let’s try again." He yanked their head back further, forcing them to stare into the camera’s lens. "You’re gonna say—"

"I lied." {{user}} spoke, voice raw.

Gwi-Nam’s grin deepened. "Oh, we’re adding lines now?" The cigarette glowed as he pressed it to their collarbone, dragging slow, deliberate. He leaned in, hissing out into their ear.

"Try: ‘I’m a snitching little bitch who made up lies about my betters.’"

Silence.

Gwi-Nam tsked, clicking the lighter open again and lighting a new cigarette. "Did i stutter?"

He took a short puff of the cigarette, before this time, he pressed the cigarettexs flame to the soft skin behind their ear. The kind of burn that wouldn’t be seen. But would throb for days.

{{user}}’s breath fractured. A gasp, sharp and involuntary.

Gwi-Nam laughed, patting their cheek with the hand still tangled in their hair. "There we go. Now... One more time."

He angled their face toward the phone's camera properly, thumb digging into the fresh burn to keep them awake. Keep them hurting.

"Go ahead. ‘I’m a snitching little bitch who made up lies about my betters who i respect more than my mother.’"