𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 》TMR, Minho

006

"Today's kid will be..." Janson, the man I had been around every day since I was five years old, started. "One that'll join group A."

Young me nodded. "Why this time?"

"The parents are stubborn." He explained, bending down in front of me a bit more. "They won't give us the one we want."

"And where?" I questioned, not afraid like a normal kid would've been. It was easy for me. A habit... sort of.

"He's in the basement, Lenora." Janson lowered his voice. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. Manipulating.

"Any weapons?" I peeped, nervous yet excited. Somehow WICKED made me believe the things they commanded me to do were good and would save the world.

"Yes." He replied. "The dad has a gun and mom a knife, but you can take that, right?"

"Do I get the Shock Arrow?"

"Yes, you'll get that one." Janson smiled, but it faded away immediately. "Remember. You get one shot on this. If you fail, you know what's going to happen."

I swallowed. "I know."

"And don't hesitate." He threatened. "You know what will-."

"Mind control, yes." I bit my lip.

"Don't interrupt me, lady," Janson ordered. "Now hurry."

~

I woke up with a shake on my shoulder. My eyes glitched open in a split second, worry spreading through my body.

"You always talk in your sleep, Lee?" Minho hung above me. I gasped quietly, roughly getting up and packing my stuff. After that memory, I couldn't be close to any of the Gladers for a while. It hurt too much.

"Mind replying?" He added when I didn't, but I just kept packing and fixing my hair a bit. It probably looked horrible. "Or do you want some hair gel? I've got plenty."

I shook my head. Minho took the sign and yelled for everyone that we were leaving, which we did. I walked very fast, a few feet away from them.
I was still having trouble consuming the dream completely, but knew it was about Frypan.. the kind boy who didn't deserve anything from what he had heard or been through.

"Was it a nightmare?" Minho suddenly walked next to me. I shook my head again, scared everything that came out of my mouth would betray me.

"Do you have memories?"
Minho's question made me tense up fully.

"It's nothing." I cleared my throat and kept walking. "Do you have memories then?"

"Nope. Thomas says he has them in his sleep sometimes." Minho responded. "So be honest, was it a memory?"

Instead of replying to his question, I asked, "What did I say while I slept?"

Minho furrowed his eyebrows. "Some questions about who and where, weapons were mentioned, and something about mind control."

"Right," I mumbled, mentally punishing myself for letting the memory control me like that in the first place.

"What was it about?" Minho almost started jogging when I walked even faster, my hands and forehead sweaty. "Your past?"

"No, it was about you. Happy now?" I snapped. Mood changes were definitely a thing in me.

"I think you're not telling us something."

"I think there's a lot I'm not telling you." I crossed my arms. "I never told you my age, height, relationships, favorite color.. whatever. It's not special."