𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐏𝐀𝐇 - TMR, Minho

𝟢𝟥𝟪，𝐝𝐢𝐠 𝐝𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐮𝐠

"You can't attack me anymore," I tell Ben.

He looks up. We just returned from the Maze, and sweat is still dripping down his forehead. "Huh?"

"I tried talking to her and she told me to leave. I tried twice."

"Woah, woah, woah." He hurries to swallow his food away. "What? When? Give me details!"

"Frypan told Newt to ask Winston for chicken so Newt told me to ask it," I explain. "I went there. I started calming. I greeted her, and then she started with the 'you're not real' thing and then she slammed the door shut. That's when I left, quite fast. 'Cause she's indeed insane."

"Okay..." Ben nods slowly. "And the second time?"

"I got back from the Map Room and caught her sitting outside. Wasn't the first time, so I commented on how she wasn't sleeping again. And she starts telling me I'm not real. Again."

"And then?"

"Then she suddenly reached for my hand. I pulled away."

"Why would you do that? She was about to get proof."

"I was surprised, okay? Wasn't exactly thinking through a master plan."

"Okay, okay, understandable. You should try again, though." Ben runs a hand through his hair, slightly frustrated.

"She freaks me out. You can see me, right? I'm real?"

"Yes, you're real, Minho. Maybe she has gotten so used to you being mean, that she can't believe you're being nice."

My eyebrows knit together. "I mean... I guess, but... but it's just weird. She seemed almost confident as she said it. And I wasn't being very nice or anything. I just normally greeted her."

"When's the last time you 'normally greeted her'?"

"Eh..."

"Exactly."

I sigh. "Okay, but still—"

"Hey, Winston!" Ben nearly jumps up as he starts motioning for the boy to come over. I turn to look.

Winston's hands are bloody and so is his shirt. He must've just delivered meat to Frypan.

"What is it? I need to clean the Bloodhouse before I can join y'all for dinner."

My eyes automatically flash towards the Bloodhouse. I catch the sight of Zee and Stan. Zee's walking fast, and Stan scampers after her towards the Bloodhouse.

"Has Zee been acting weird lately?" Ben asks.

Even though I keep my eyes on the duo in the distance, I hear Winston's reply, "A bit. Don't go spreading this around the place, but I brought her to the Med-Jacks. She said some... off things. Kind of scared me."

"You? It scared you? The one who somewhat enjoys slaughtering animals?"

"Yeah."

Zee vanishes inside the Bloodhouse. Stan remains outside, obviously not tempted to step inside.

"Damn," Ben mutters.

"Yeah," Winston says again. "She, eh, called slaughtering art. I don't think it's a good idea to let her close to the knives right now. That's why I need to go back fast. I don't want her to hurt herself."

I don't tell him she's inside there right now. She's with Stan. He won't let her hurt herself.

"So I'll go," Winston decides. "I'll see you in a minute. Just need to quickly wipe the table and put on a fresh shirt."

As Winston walks off, I keep watching the Bloodhouse. Something feels a bit off. Probably just the way Zee was pretty much running away from Stan.

"Hey, guys." Newt's the one who distracts me. He sits down next to me. "What's up?"

"Lately, hasn't been Minho's ego," Ben replies. "Damn. What a change."

I glare at him.

"Ego or not, we're happy to have you here." Newt nudges me in the side lightly, then starts eating. I take bites of my food as well. My mind has left Zee and Stan behind already.

Until Winston shows up a few minutes later. Other than the clean shirt, he doesn't look different.

"What were they doing?" I ask.

He puts his plates down, humming, "Hm?"

"What were they doing? In the Bloodhouse? Zee and—"

"Right now?"

"Yes, or a few minutes ago. They were in there when you were," I tell Winston.

His frown deepens. "I didn't see anyone."

"They were there." I straighten my back, concerned. For myself. I'm not seeing things that aren't here, too, right? "I swear."

"Eh..." Winston looks around. "I didn't see her. Or anyone."

I look past him, towards the Bloodhouse. "Oh. Guess I imagined it, then."

"Yeah. Guess you did," but he still sounds confused.

Ben and Newt don't say a word, but their faces do.

Again, I look around, scanning for any sign of them. I can't have imagined it. They were there. They really were— there. At the edge of the woods.

I stand up without thinking. "I'll be back."

Strange thing is that Zee's dragging Stan with her. That's likely why I got so curious.

I sprint after them, but stop a few feet away. I don't want to go through an awkward interaction.

Her cries and whispers are audible now. "I'm sorry," over and over and over. "He didn't see us," over and over and over. "I didn't mean to," over and over and over. "I thought—" over and over and over.

I take a step closer, away from the tree I was hiding behind. When I see Stan, I have to slam a hand to my mouth to keep myself from gasping out loud.

He's pale. He's bleeding. He's dead.

I look back up at Zee, who's still apologizing.

She killed him.

The image appears back in my mind, slamming the air out of my lungs. Blood everywhere. Organs everywhere. Her eyes filled with pride.

I was right. She's insane and she's a killer. She killed him.

A cold chill runs through my veins while I follow them to the center of the woods. The Deadheads.

Where George is buried. I don't remember what happened. Not exactly. I remember bloodshot eyes that turned black. Him attacking me. And I don't remember, but know that Alby killed him. Took a life to save one.

Zee didn't do that. She just took a life. Stan never did anything wrong, right? I might've disliked him, yet I don't think he did anything. Did he?

"I'm sorry," she whispers again. Her hands start digging in the dirt. Digging a grave for the one she killed.

No, hiding him. Hiding the one she killed so no one will find out. 

But before she gets far, she suddenly bends over, and a ton of guttural noises come out. I press my hand to my mouth again, closing my eyes to keep myself from throwing up.

When she continues digging, I can't take it anymore, and return to the others. I'm too afraid to tell them what I saw. Too afraid of the consequences.