Answers - Minho Book III

Chapter 6

Six months pass by in a blur of being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn to flopping back onto my bed in exhaustion after working out all day.

I've tried to push Minho to the back of my mind.

Because if I think too much I might cry.

I don't want to think about how lonely he is, how much pain he's in, hell, if he's even alive at this point.

Lynn has told me absolutely nothing about her plans to the point where I'm questioning if she even has one at all.

"Any updates," I ask her in a monotone voice. It's become a daily habit now. 

She purses her lips in irritation. "Trust me, you'll be the first to know." I fight the urge to roll my eyes. 

And then we're back to sparring.

Over the course of these six months, I've gone from having the wind constantly knocked out of me by Lynn and winding up on my back on the floor to being able to hold my own against her. In fact, I'd like to say with confidence that I could easily take on any man or woman working at W.C.K.D right now. 

I still haven't managed to win against Lynn though, and that hurts my ego a little bit.

She manages to sweep my feet out from under me and I collapse onto the mat. 

"Stop trying to win so hard. Let the moves come naturally to you." 

"What the shuck does that even mean," I mutter under my breath, letting her pull me back to my feet. Lynn snorts at me. I raise my fists again in a fighting stance, preparing for another round. However, within only a couple of moves, I find myself on the floor again. 

I stare at the ceiling in woe, feeling sorry for myself. I've been flipped onto the ground so many times that I've learnt the different ways to fall to minimise pain and injuries. 

Lynn tuts and I glance at her to see a disgusted expression on her face. It's light-hearted though, I know for a fact she's been proud of my progress so far. 

"You know what, let's just end it here for today. You're clearly not feeling it." She drags me up once more and pulls me in for an uncharacteristic hug. 

"I may have news for you tomorrow," she whispers in my ear. I freeze. 

Lynn backs out of the hug but still holds me by the shoulders. My eyes widen, and she dips her head, a minuscule nod of confirmation. She pats my shoulder and swiftly leaves the gym. 

My heartbeat quickens in anticipation, and I wonder what she means. 

News can only mean one thing, right? We're getting out of here.

I fight the urge to break into a wide smile. Lynn's words have stuck with me from the first time we sparred when she warned me that they're always watching and listening. 

At that moment, my stomach growls. 

"Perfect timing!" I exclaim happily, patting my stomach in anticipation of lunch. It's as if my energy and mood have renewed with the potential plan of escape. 

I make my way to the dining hall, meandering with expertise through the countless brightly lit hallways, so familiar with the route that I could do it with my eyes closed. Once there, I fix myself a plate of the most appealing food from the spread, which wasn't saying much, then making a beeline for my usual spot in the corner of the hall. 

I prod at the sad little plate of food with my fork, pushing around the mushy peas. Clearly, no one in W.C.K.D took a cooking class in their miserable little lives. Letting out a sigh, I prop my cheek on my hand and use my other hand to shovel food into my mouth, pretending that it's Frypan's cooking.