Trigger Warning:
This chapter contains references to gun violence, injury, memory loss, and emotional distress.
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Mexile's POV
I glanced at Kylo, sitting cross-legged with his eyes shut in the corner of the room. I never expected him to be the one treating Micquel and Zarya—and even tending to the wounds on my hands.
Micquel and Zarya were both stable now, thanks to Kylo. Fine. Just this once, I'll be thankful.
Kylo was a renowned fighter in the Red Team, but no one really knew who—or what—he was outside this game. That's why it shocked me when he stepped up without hesitation and revealed his medical skills.
I looked away when his eyes suddenly opened and met mine.
Great, Mexile. Caught staring.
"Shi— Aww!"
I turned toward Micquel as she suddenly tried to sit up.
"Micquel! Lie down. You'll hurt yourself if you move too fast," I said, rushing to her side.
She looked at me with wide, stunned eyes. "Mexile," she whispered.
"Yes, Micquel. It's me." I gave her a puzzled look. Why did she seem so shocked?
"What happened to me?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I replied.
"I was dying that day, but…" Her voice trailed off, eyes distant. What was she thinking? Was it because Draven shot her? Or something else?
"Micquel!"
We both looked toward the door. Sathia stood there with the others behind her.
"What happened?" Micquel asked, scanning the room. Her eyes locked on Zarya, and she grabbed her head, suddenly overwhelmed. She collapsed back onto the bed.
"Wait, Micquel! You'll reopen your wound," I said, wincing on her behalf.
Sathia rushed over. "Micquel," she said gently, her voice thick with worry. "What's going on with you?"
Micquel's voice came out faint. "What… is happening?"
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Now we were all in the living room, having left Micquel to rest in the medical room.
Her condition had improved shockingly fast. It didn't make sense.
"What do you think happened to her?" Sol asked.
"Well—" Hermione began but was cut off.
"Guys."
Micquel's voice. We turned to find her approaching and settling into a chair. Her eyes stayed on the floor. No one dared to speak first.
"I was supposed to die, right?" she said softly.
"Micquel, seriously, we don't know what's going on," Hermione said.
Micquel finally looked at us.
"Micquel, tell us. What happened?" Sathia asked.
"We were on a school camping trip," Micquel began. "Something happened that night. The next day, I woke up here. Then I went outside and saw you all—facing off with the White Team. I brought you to this safe zone, and then Draven—Draven!" She snapped toward him. "Did you shoot me?!"
Draven flinched.
"How dare you! That hurt like hell!"
Her glare could have set him on fire. Meanwhile, I was still stuck on the word—camping? What is she talking about? That was before all of this… wasn't it?
"I didn't know it was you—" Draven started.
"So what? If you didn't recognize me, that justifies shooting me? I saved you!" she snapped, cutting him off.
"No, it's just that, I just…" Draven looked down, voice fading.
"Just what?!"
He had no answer.
"If you only knew, Micquel," Kylo said quietly, "how miserable he was when we lost you. He blamed himself every day."
My chest tightened at the memory.
Eleven months ago. The day we lost Micquel. We thought she died at the Yellow Team's second safe zone. I'd been too weak then. I couldn't stop them from taking her. And now, I felt eyes on me again.
Kylo.
He didn't look away. He never did. And I hated that look—the one he was giving me now. Because I knew what it meant.
"And what do you mean about the camping trip?" Sathia asked, confused.
"That night in the forest," Micquel explained, "during the school campout. Something happened. The fog wasn't normal. You guys passed out—and I did too. When I woke up, I was already in this house."
Gasps rippled through the group.
"You don't remember anything? The rescue mission? Your disappearance?" Hermione asked.
The room fell silent, everyone waiting for Micquel's answer.
"All of it?" Sathia pressed. "Everything that happened in this game for over three years?"
"Three years?!"
Micquel's voice trembled.
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