The Facility | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Two

Three Years Ago

"Ow!" I squeaked, tripping over a chair. I silently cursed the darkness and moved steadily forward, navigating by placing my hands on the tables. Once I reached the back of the classroom, I turned abruptly and walked to the desk at the back. I felt around and my hand landed on the stack of workbooks beneath my desk. 

I sighed. Go me for leaving my homework behind. I tucked it under an arm and thanked my eyes for adjusting. I looked around the room that was now dimly seen by myself. A faint exhale escaped my lips as my eyes landed on a figure in the front row. 

The person was definitely a boy. Probably around my age, too. How long had he been sitting there? Had he heard me tripping over stuff?

"It's rude to stare."

I was struck immediately by the huskiness of his voice. Deep, rumbling, yet, impossibly smooth. 

I whispered, "Sorry. I just didn't expect anyone else to be in here."

"Me neither," he responded, "Are you okay?"

"What?" I said, blanking out.

"You must have fallen over like three times since entering the classroom."

"Oh," I blushed, "I'm fine... thank you."

There was silence for a moment before the boy asked, "So what are you doing in the back of the classroom?"

"Getting homework," I replied, "What are you doing at the front of the classroom?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said in a slightly snappy tone.

"What's your name?" I said, walking down towards him.

"Name's are pointless. We're all gonna die someday and not long after that no one will remember our names, nevertheless what we've accomplished."

"Way to put a depressing tone on it," I scoffed, "I think that's part of the charm of dying."

"You always this optimistic..." he trailed off.

"See, names do come in handy," I smirked, "My name's Natalie. Everyone calls me Nat or Nattie."

"Well, what if I don't want to call you either?" he growled beneath his breath. 

"Then find me a new nickname, that's fine."

"Fine, Dove."

"Dove?"

"You seem... pure. And fragile."

"I am not pure..." I pressed my lips together, "It is not fair that you know my name and I don't know yours."

"Pure," he certified, "Call me... Park."

"You seem uncertain about that, Park."

"It's my last name."

"And your first name?"

"Doesn't matter if you're gonna call me by my first name, now, does it?" he smirked suddenly, lightening up his mood.

I grinned, "Well, nice to meet you, Mr Park."

"And you, Miss Dove."

I smiled, tightening my hold on the books and turning away from him. At the door, I glanced back to him. The moonlight was beginning to cut into the windows and I smiled gently at his dark brown hair and gorgeous, unfocused eyes. I turned around again to head for the elevator.