Hana shifted with a distant alcoholic smell; the disturbing familiarity of cold, hard wood and strong cigarettes made her stomach churn in pure horror.
Her eyes shot open after a hard clash of glass, filling her ears with a similar traumatic experience that never left her.
Hana's body started shaking, sitting up on the same brown floor and cautiously scooting over to a cramped corner just a meter from her small single bed, bringing herself the plain security she will never give.
Just like the past few days, a hard thumping of shoe heels echoed the hallways, serving as an alarm clock for the 14-year-old girl, not to wake up in the rising morning sun but to a dark, abusive hand under the haunted roof.
A whimper escaped from her lips when her doorknob twisted, the sound of keys dangling, and the loud kicking of the door.
Hana can't count how many days it was. Or was it weeks? When she had a decent meal and a peaceful sleep, Was it months? When she stepped out of their front door, She didn't know...
All she knew was that she'd been held captive by her own parents.
"Hana darling.. mommy is here..." a shadow of a womanly figure raised on her plain white walls
The poor girl pressed herself more against the wall, wanting to just slip in like a ghost—just anything free from the hands she's supposed to run for comfort, not to run away.
Sounds of leather whips and metal chains got in between as the whip came into contact with her already bruised arms that she used to shield her head.
And she screamed.
Hana immediately jolted up with a suffocated sigh. The gush of energy ran through her system as her eyes frantically flickered around the medium-sized room.
She felt her throat drying up, her lips chapped and pale as buds of sweat formed on her forehead.
Hana choked back her tears and reached to turn on her bedside lamp—she was alone. In the darkness of the ungodly hour of 4 AM.
She clutched her shirt, which aligned with her hard-beat chest, throwing her head back as a train of memories freely railed through her mind.
How? she thought
She thought these dreams and nightmares had already stopped long ago; then why is it back again?
Maybe it was triggered when Mark shared his past? Or is it because of their childhood stories?
Either way, Hana never went back to sleep and rushed to her wardrobe. She fit in her black tracksuit and tied her hair in a high ponytail. Once she slipped on her trainers, she didn't waste any second to walk out, mind-setting to their underground training hall and shooting at least 100 fake targets as a goal.
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"We never want to bring this up, but you never ever wasted 100 bullets on these...poor shooting boards." Naih grimaced when the last board slid forward, showing a clear view of the hole in the chest.
Bullseye, as the boys said. The most ideal shot to kill a bitch.
Hana has always been a sharp shooter. Guns are totally her second skin, and she could somehow snipe you dead in a hundred meters. Yet the guns were placed under Yeoreum's box, and she took the position in hand combat. She requires strength, mobility, and reflexes, but they were molded enough to fit her body.
She never voiced it out, but Hana is always confident enough to face stronger missions, which Taeyong would never let them.
We can't risk you girls, whatever, but ever since she trained, she has been brisk enough to embrace her rage and anger, which are actually the reason for her crazy killing sprees.
That's why Taeyong dashed inside the Firing Range, all buckled up in dark auras.
"I never agreed to this, but Doyoung spotted a nearing attack in our Ulsan base, and the boys are still in their fucking underground field, and the last team we have is you."
Both the girls froze for a moment, and the leader messed with his already messy hair from their unresponsive state.
"We don't have time! Johnny's subordinates aren't that well trained, and a quarter of our funds are in there!"
Naih's breath hitched and she fumbled on her earpiece, calling on Doyoung to let her connect to Yeoreum's frequency.
Hana clicked her tongue and grabbed the handgun in front of her, fully loading it with bullets as well as taking extras in a bag.
"Have you contacted Aeri?"
"Yes, she's on the way with Jaemin."
Hana's brow raised in a fraction and she looked at the leader dead in the eye. "Why do you still let the Dreamies in the house?"
"Soulmates," he replied in an obvious manner, "why do you want me to call Mark for you too?"
"I don't need him." she hissed and clicked the safety, hastily shooting the board, and happily hummed when it landed perfectly.
"Hana, how many bullets?"
"JO HANA, WHERE THE FUCK!?"
The said girl immediately turned on her heel, and her eyes widened at the sudden presence of her soulmate.
Messy bed hair, baggy shirts and sweatpants, loose ties on his trainers, and firm fists Behind him are the apologetic faces of Jaemin, Donghyuck, Yeoreum, and Aeri.
"You are not going in there!" he firmly concluded.
"What are you doing here!" Hana scoffed. "And please, I don't have time for this; get out of the house, Mark."
"It's not a small attack!"
"I'm fucking aware, and I'm still fucking going! Girls in 10," she quickly dismissed and shoved past her nagging soulmate.
No, she won't let this opportunity slip. Never.
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