𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫? - 𝐓𝐌𝐑 𝐀𝐔, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨

033 - he's here.

He's here. He's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, he's here.

Help.

I already knew he was here, but I denied it to myself for way too long. Now it's too late. And he's been found.

I rush into my cabin, locking the door behind my friends and I. I slide down against the wall, my head buried in my hands.

I can't do this. Not again.

———————————————

I looked through my window, my fingers dancing on the piano keys. My mother was sitting beside me, scolding me whenever I missed a note.

"Faster," she ordered, nudging me.

I tried to play faster, but I could only think about the shadow of a boy. Through the window.

I closed my eyes and focused on the music. It sounded wonderful, but I couldn't keep my thoughts set on it. Someone was here.

"Mum," I start to say, but she hushes me. And somehow, she already knew what I was going to say.

"No, I want you to be the earliest piano player in the word."

"But I'm only six—"

"Exactly. Now keep playing."

I hated my mother. I wished so badly my father hadn't died. But he had. There was nothing I could do to change that fact.

C, D, E. Trying to keep the chord in my mind was getting harder. My thoughts kept travelling back to the shadow.

Who was it? Why were they here? What did they want? Were they here for me? Were they here to finally take me away from my mum?

A million thoughts flashed through my mind. And I had the answer to none of them. I didn't know.

"Mum, can I have a break?" I requested. "Please? My fingers are hurting. A lot."

That was a lie.

She sighed. A long sigh. "Fine. But you have to practise tomorrow? Do you hear me?"

I nodded, using everything inside me to not groan. "I hear you, Mum. Now can I go?"

"I already said yes," she replied dryly. "So go."

I did exactly as she said, rushing away from the piano. I ran to my room. As soon as I got there, I locked the windows, using the curtain to cover them.

Hopefully whoever the shadow was couldn't see me anymore.

I jumped onto my bed. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling as I fiddled with my fingers, anxiety taking over.

They were going to find me. They were going to take me. They were going to kill me.

Please, no.

I had too much to live for. I had to live for my dad. I had to prove to my mum that he didn't deserve to die. She obviously didn't think the same; it was her fault he was dead.

I hope she regretted it.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away," I chanted quietly, hoping the shadow would take the hint and leave me alone.

Instead, it did the opposite.

I heard a crash from downstairs. I heard a window—or multiple—breaking. I heard glass shattering. And then I heard my mother scream.

It went silent.

———————————————

My eyes fly open. I'm drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. The sound of my mother's screams echoes in my ears. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to throw up. But I don't.

"Ley." Minho rushes over to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You okay? I think you were having a nightmare."

I nod, trying to slow my breathing. "Yeah. It was a nightmare. I'm fine now, though."

Lie.

I'm not fine.

"You sure?" Minho checks, his face etched with concern.

I nod again. "Perfect."

Instead of going back to his earlier spot, he claims a seat on the floor next to me. "Well, I'm going to stay here whether you like it or not."

I chuckle. "Don't worry, I like it."

That sounds wrong.

"In what way?" Minho asks, smirking at his dirty mind.

I smack him on the head lightly, laughing. "Get your head out of the gutter!"

He chuckles. "I cheered you up, didn't I?"

He did.

I nod. "Somehow you did."

He rests his head on my shoulder. "I wish I met you earlier."

"So do I," I agree. "I wish I met myself earlier."

He looks at me as if I'm crazy, his eyes squinted, and he's trying to hide the smile that is tugging at his lips.

"And I wish I met you earlier as well," I add with a grin.

"Good."

"Very."

"What are you two talking about?" Thomas calls from the other side of the room. "Good? Very?"

I palm my face, cheeks gaining a blush. "Why do you all think such inappropriate things?"

"You're basically cuddling," Thomas says, shrugging.

That's not an explanation for your dirty mind.

"So are you and Brenda," Minho points out. "Are you trying to tell us something?"

"We're siblings!" Thomas defends. "It's different."

"Minho and I are basically siblings," I say. "So it's basically the same."

Thomas groans, wrapping his arms tighter around his sister. "It's not my fault she's crying."

"So if we were crying it would be different?" I question.

He pauses, thinking. He clearly doesn't know what he's talking about.

"Hm?" Minho smirks from beside me at Thomas's lack of words.

"I don't know," Thomas admits. "But I do know that you two shared a kiss a week ago."

Minho shrugs. "So what? At least I had the courage to kiss her. You have liked Teresa for years, yet you haven't made a single move."

"I sat with her when you guys played capture the flag," he reminds us.

"Doesn't count." Minho shakes his head.

"Well, I—"

Suddenly, interrupting Thomas, we hear a crash. We hear a window—or multiple—breaking. We hear glass shattering.

Mentally, I hear my mother scream.

Physically, I hear Teresa scream.