Sorry for the slow update! This is a request from thepandabella.

Reviews:

thepandabella: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! So, I did take your suggestion, but I twisted it up a bit. So I hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing!

I hate them. I hate them so much. I hope something bad happens to them...

I hope...

I hope they die!

They took me away from Mom and Dad. They broke everything! They try every day to make me eat their stupid food and drink their juices. The other kids here are so dumb. They drink and eat and don't do anything to stand up to the grown-ups!

They told me they're scared.

Dad used to say that being scared is useless. He was right. I miss him so much.

But I can't let them see me cry. I am the strong one. I can't cry. EVER!

The grown-ups are called WICKED, and I don't know what that means. I can't remember my name.

Why don't I remember my own name!?

They call me Minho. But that's not right. I know it's not right but that's what everyone calls me. I don't think the other kids know their names either. They have new, weird WICKED names.

Newt.

Alby.

Gally.

Crybabies, all of them. I am strong. Mom whispered it in my ear the night before they came, that I had to be strong. Did she know? Did she know the bad men would steal me?

Is that why she didn't do anything but cry? When they grabbed my arms and legs, dragging me out the door that they had broken...she just cried and watched me.

My dad knew. I know he must have known because he helped them carry me. And he told me they would save me. He and Mom were sick, that's what he said. And the people were taking me to a doctor so that I wouldn't get sick too.

Strong means no tears. Strong means never sleeping. Strong means always standing back up.

Strong is hard and stupid and scary.

I miss them. I want to go back.

My room is white.

White walls and white floors and a bright white light that comes from nowhere. I hate the whiteness. There are no colors and it feels like sadness. Or like the place you go to when you die. I want to die.

I want to die so I don't have to be strong.

But I can't because I need to find Mom and Dad. Please let me go.

They say the world is dangerous.

I don't care. Everywhere is dangerous. I bet I could find them if they let me leave. I bet I could and then they would apologize and make it better. I'm crying right now and I hate myself.

I remember the day when the sun got mad. When it burned down everything and I remember the pain. I cried then too. And I was not strong. I'll never be strong like my parents.

But WICKED is strong and I hate them so much because they are better than me. There is nothing I can do except yell and not let them feed me. They just walk away.

Or slap my face hard with their stupid gloves.

The other kids watch and they're scared. But they also feel bad for that kid that is me. I laugh when they tell me to stop. I do it more. And I get slapped.

I don't know why I do it. But it doesn't feel good and I hate them for being here.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Mom said that word is bad. I don't care. It's all true. I hate everything and everyone here and I want to go home.

I'm so hungry...

No. Doesn't matter. I'll eat when I find Mom and Dad.

There are monsters outside. I hear them banging on the windows and doors and I hear them screaming in the night. Sometimes they laugh out loud and I am jealous because I don't see what's so funny.

But then I realize that they're laughing at us. Because they're free and we're not and I want them to die.

I'm so scared.

I've never felt like this before. Not even when I got my flu shot.

The tears aren't stopping. I can't make them stop!

I think about that day.

I was eating breakfast, and the door blew open. Mom ran to get out of the way of the men in green suits. Their masks had long tubes that flipped around and made sounds. I screamed so loudly. No one cared.

Dad grabbed me and they grabbed me and I tried to get away. But they were stronger than me just like everyone else. Dad's face got red, and he looked so sad. But he didn't cry.

So I didn't either.

They'll be so proud when I find them again.

"You came back all by yourself?" They'll say. And I'll nod and hug them and they tell me how strong I am. By now they can't be sick anymore, right?

I hope I'm right.

I'm so scared of being wrong.

WICKED will take me to the lunch room soon, and the other kids will see my red eyes. I'm trying to stop my tears but my eyeballs won't listen.

I hate myself for this.

I hate them too.

It hurts to be strong, and I hope I can keep going.

I hope.

I hate.

I'm strong.

I'm scared.

So...that was...really sad. I'm so sorry. But next chappie might be happy. Probably. Maybe. Anyway, review and suggest!

Wolf Out...