36. minho

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i can't feel my body.

i can't feel my arms.

i can't feel my legs.

but none of these matter as much as jisung.

is he okay?

my fingertips won't twitch even the slightest when i try to move them.

sometimes i drift in and out of consciousness, i don't know how long it's been since the ice rink, but it feels like a week.

time drags on and on when i can't do anything except breathe and stay immobile.

i push the growing panic away in favour of thinking about jisung. my first priority is to make sure he's unharmed.

but no matter how much effort i put into opening my eyelids, they won't budge.

"move! open! why won't you let me see my love?"

then i hear voices.

they're whispering, as if they know i can hear them.

"...he survive? don't...kill him...should we? he...can't fight back anyway..."

i realise with gut wrenching terror that these aren't voices i can recognise nor do they belong to anyone i know.

i can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

help me. jisung, where are you? help me!

they want to kill me. they've failed at the ice rink and they want to try again.

who have i offended, and what did i do?

i need to get out of here.

i need to go to jisung.

i need to go home.

i hear the door click as they leave.

two simultaneous pairs of footsteps.

two people.

a murderer and an accomplice.

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