Separated

Chapter 46 - Minori

New Chapter!!!

This day last year, was the day I joined this platform and began writing the stories that played in my head. Safe to say, I loved pretty much every moment I was here writing away the characters and their own stories. 🥰😌

I wasn't planning on writing Minori and Nikolai's story until much later but once I finished my other story Differences, I couldn't not stop writing. I wrote much of this story during my classes in uni and may or may not have prioritised it more than my studies. ✌🏼🌚🤘🏼

Regardless, it has been such an experience and I hope to continue writing other stories on this platform.

Thank you for those who are so supportive and enjoy reading my stories, I can't thank you guys enough. ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷🤍🩶🖤

But for now, you can enjoy your reading time. 🌷🪻🌹
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"And I didn't agree. But you can listen." Akio mutters after losing patience communicating with my brother.

Knowing that they were calling my brother, I guessed it has been around an hour since the last call and I was yet to lose my consciousness, but I was close to it. The only reason I was yet to die of blood loss was because they wanted me alive for a while longer and wrapped my wound just enough to last me a few more hours. I could no longer feel the blood dripping from my wound but rather see the dark liquid penetrate through the fabric of my pale blue blouse, creating a large blob of deep red as time went by.

It was a stupid area to shoot if they wanted me alive for a little while longer. If the shot was a  millimetre or two lower, it could have damaged subclavian artery. Repair for that is extremely difficult and I could have potentially be dead by now.

Akio stands from the rusty looking metal foldable chair and walks over to me, plastering on a horrendous smile. I could recognise those. They were only seen when he had been ordered to kill. But surely they wouldn't kill me yet. Why else would he have ordered the lanky looking guy to wrap my wound?

"Don't take this personally little crane." Akio mouths in an unapologetic tone before the other two guys follow behind him, both donning on an equally ugly looking smile.

The first of many blows were hit. They kicked and shoved. One continuously kicking my injured shoulder, one kicking repeatedly in my abdomen and chest. I suppressed any noise from escaping me. I may not have any control in this, but I could control what I elicit out. I can save my brother from that.

But I couldn't breathe.

Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. CAN'T BREATHE.

Someone's shoes, or feet or whatever it was dig into the wound of my shoulder, and I instinctively scream. The sound piercing to these ears and harrowing to my already damaged mind. My eyes burn and tears begin to build and slip free.

Within a few seconds, the fight I had within me was escaping me. So pathetic. I was so pathetic.  

How many more hours could I tolerate?

How many more hours till they find me?

No, they were confident they wouldn't find me or confident that they'll end this before my family find me. They were prepared for their demise. Their own deaths.

The only way to escape was for me to die.

. . . perhaps it would be better that way.

I try to inhale as much oxygen allowed but I couldn't even exhale properly without getting caught in a coughing fit, stealing away  more air than I could breathe in. And to make matters worse, with every cough, tiny dots of red splattered onto the concrete floors.

I could feel my body screaming in agony. Not only from the pain, but its response to it. I was breathing too quickly; my heart rate had risen even higher than before, and I can feel it thud against my chest with so much force it added on top of the pain radiating from every inch of my body. This exponential increase and decrease in my heart rate, along with blood loss is probably going to be the result of my death.

I know that my brother was screaming something. I know that. But my brain couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

My vision begins to blur as the blows continue. They gave no mercy. But that word never truly existed in that man's head.

My mind drifts off to other things.

The necklace that was gone from my neck when I first woke up, potentially stolen by one of the men in attendance. I really liked it. It was my first gift from him.

The light blouse and off white skirt I was wearing. It was another set of clothes I chose from that wardrobe. It still has his distinct scent, all so comforting and masculine.

It wasn't fair. My brother was on the other side of the line, worried and concerned and the only thing that was on my mind was the man who sauntered into my life like he had every right to. He was like Christmas decorations that appeared as soon as Halloween was over.

I was potentially dying and the person who I was potentially going to think of last was the man who was yet to make contact with the situation I was in. It would have better if he contacted told me to suffer on my own, at least that way, I would have some sort of closure.

But here I was, fighting for every breath, every blink, for my consiousness.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

I . . . I . . . miss him.