𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 》TMR, Minho

027

About a few days later, I had been through more torture, and yet I didn't see the goal. All they did was let me have pain, but didn't take any blood from me after, so they weren't using me for a cure, right? I was slowly starting to think they only wanted to punish me for escaping and not doing the tasks they gave me in the past well.

So, there I was, getting dragged through the hallways by two guards. Resisting didn't make sense anymore. I turned too weak.. or just couldn't find the motivation of fighting back, probably because it had been so long since I had a proper talk with anyone, especially my loved ones, like Minho.

My eyes kept pointing at the ground until, in the corner of them, I saw someone else get dragged. I looked up and saw him. Minho.

He got dragged by some guards too, and he didn't resist. All he did was stare at the ground lifeless, eyes weak and puffed, body limp.

"Minho!" My full attention was on now. "Minho!"

His eyes dazed around at a slow pace, as if all his energy got sucked away. I screamed his name again, but the guards only held me tighter.

And then we made eye contact, for just a second. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, scrunching his forehead in... confusion? Fear? I couldn't tell.

"Lenora." It came out of his mouth as barely a whisper. My heart broke for him. Something was wrong. He would never call me by that name. And the way his eyes stood... was just weird.

"What are you doing to him?" I asked the guards, raising my voice slightly. They didn't reply and kept staring straight forward. I watched the tasers in their hands, realizing I couldn't do anything.

They pushed me into my room again. The door slammed close and I heard the click of the key card locking the door strongly. I sighed and wandered to my bed, getting lost in despair.

And then, just out of a sudden, something in my mind snapped. I had been longing to talk to Minho for so long, so why act lazy and half-dead in my room when I could've been doing something useful? I had to talk to him.

I looked around, for once searching for the details in the perfectly cleaned room. All plain and boring. I looked behind the small table and under the bed. All I saw was a vent, but that was actually perfect and WICKED was quite dumb to place a vent under my bed.

With a lot of effort, I removed the grid. It was a tiny and dark space in there, but I went in. Slow but steady I crawled through the vent, searching for anything that had to do with Minho.

At some point, I heard groans coming from a grid next to me. After listening to more groans, I decided to just go for it and go into the room.

"Minho?" I whispered as I crawled out from under the bed. More winces and cries followed, but there was no response. Quiet and careful, I got on my feet. The room was the exact same as mine, except in this one, a boy sat. And that boy for sure was Minho, though the way he looked wasn't liked by me.

He sat on his bed with his head buried in his hands. He rocked back and forth at a slow pace, murmuring stuff as the winces kept going.

"Minho?" I repeated, this time louder.

He finally looked up, eyes still giving off a tired look. He frowned for the first few seconds, but then the recognition started to kick in.

"Lena?" Minho said quietly. He looked like he could faint any minute, to be honest.

"Yeah, it's me, Minho." I took a step closer, but him flinching made me stop immediately. "Are you all right, Min?"

He rubbed his temples just like last time, as if he had pain there. "Is this real?" He muttered.

"It is. It's real." I replied carefully, knowing something was off.

Minho swallowed. "How'd you get here?"

"Through the vent," I explained. "Uhh... can I sit?"

He looked at the seat next to him and shook his head. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just..." I stammered. "I'm... visiting you."

"Visiting me?" He repeated, still talking low and more to himself.

I was starting to suspect he really had memory loss. "Minho, tell me who I am."

"You're..." Minho paused and inspected my face again. His was blank by now. "You're Lenora Verlice."

My breathing got stuck in my throat. Taken aback, I stared at Minho for a while. "How do you know my last name?"

"You told me."

I rubbed my forehead, getting quite frustrated. "No, I never told you my last name."

'You told us all." He exclaimed. "You told us when you-"

He got cut off by a noise from outside the door. Panicked we both looked around, but most likely for different reasons.

"You have to go," Minho commanded sternly.

"I have to go," I said at the same time, yet my voice was sad and he was dominant.. and he didn't sound the nicest. Minho didn't look like he wanted a hug from me, so I just said a quick goodbye and left fast.

As I crawled back, my mind was spinning with everything. Like, was the torture they did on Minho so bad he got memory loss? Or did they give him more memories? How did he know my last name and why, oh why, did he keep calling me Lenora?