Just Trust Me // A Minho Fanfic + Newtmas

Part Twenty-Seven: Gun To My Head

(WARNING - this chapter may be sensitive to some viewers - read with caution)

I heard my shoulder crack as it slammed into a metal pipe, sliding off of it and hitting the concrete floor. I coughed up the blood that gathered in my mouth and I yelped as the pain in my shoulder radiated through my entire body. It was definitely dislocated but not broken. The blood from my neck ran down my shirt, staining everything a deep red. My legs ached just like the rest of my body and I could feel my pulse in my throat as the bruises started forming.

Suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore as my Crank mother jumped down to meet me at the bottom. She didn't even care about how high up it was, it didn't even seem to faze her as all she wanted was to see me dead. I was scared, I didn't know what to do, I was so scared. She took steps towards my sluggish body and I kicked away.

I slid away from her and into my fathers workshop where he worked on any device he could find. I finally found my footing again, holding on to my aching shoulder as my mother snarled, advancing towards me slowly knowing there was no other exit. My hip brushed against one of his tool carts so I pulled it along, using all the strength I could muster to push it over and block her path.

The cart smashed into the ground, spilled heavy metal tools across the ground with loud clangs that sent my mother is a whirl of screams. I fell backwards but got on my hands and knees so that I could put some distance between me and her.

I got up to my feet, leaning against one of the tables when I heard my mother screech at me. My small eyes landed upon an object that laid on the table. I quickly grabbed it, loading up the gun and pointing it straight at my mothers head.

I was trembling as I walked across the streets all on my own, my body screaming for me to stop. I couldn't. I had to make some distance between me and the boys so they weren't there when... so I kept moving.

The pounding in my head made me nauseous and the buzzing in my ears blocked out the voices. The heat of the ongoing battle ate away at my pale deteriorating skin while the veins had completely taken over my face. I coughed heavily, spitting the black liquid on the floor as I walked past a running crowd. I met eyes with one of the rioters, but he eventually moved on, ignoring me as I went on my way.

I was slow, walking the opposite way of the berg, not wanting my father to catch me either. If Gally wasn't going to kill me, then I had to do it myself, and nothing was going to stop me. For the sake of my father, I hoped that the boys would tell him a lie, I hoped they'd tell him that I was shot by a soldier and that they had to leave me behind. I didn't want my father to know my fate, not after my mother...

On and on I trudged, trying to keep myself on my two feet which was begging to get harder by the minute. I dragged my heavy legs like weights and tried my hardest to keep my eyes open.

I went through an alleyway, looking over to the train station on the opposite side. It was closed off like a box with walls of glass and a staircase that lead to the train station below. There was a broken board that showed an emergency announcement, but the voice talking through it was broken up, unintelligible. I marched forward with purpose. Each heavy step brought me closer to the middle and when I managed to get there, I fell to my hands and knees.

I coughed heavily, the liquid from my mouth spewing like a waterfall. It stained the ground the same color and I looked down at it, flames of anger building up in my eyes. I hated WICKED. I hated Ava Paige. I hated Janson. I hated Teresa. I hated myself. I hated myself the most for letting this happen. I was weak, but for what came next, I had to be strong. Stronger then I have ever had to be in my entire life.