Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 58: Remembering

June POV:

The sedation wavered. The room shifted. I was no longer pinned by ropes, but by regret.

I was Number Twelve. I was the girl who escaped alone because she was told to. Because he needed me to. Because he believed in me when I had nothing.

And I had forgotten.

I pressed my fingers against my temples. Images flickered:

My father’s house at night—lights off, curtains drawn. I ran to the bus stop, the breath of winter scouring my lungs. A stranger gave me change for coffee. I stared at the coins, stunned—they were real. They weren’t chips from a lab cafeteria.

I enrolled in school beside rich kids with gold cars and perfect hair. I sat alone, watching the world, so afraid if anyone asked who I was, I’d vanish again. But then I saw him—Justin—leaning against my locker, his dark hair flopping in his eyes. He smiled. Not a mocking grin. A real one. Like I was someone he’d been waiting for.

That memory glowed bright.

"Justin," I whispered, tears blazing down my cheeks. "Number Nine—"

My hand shot out, groping the silk beside me. I grabbed the edge of the chaise lounge, gripping it as though I’d drown without it.

Number Nine was Justin.

He was my rescuer.

He believed I could save him back.

I rocked, sobs wracking my body as I put the pieces together. Every laugh, every touch, —it all made sense now. I’d been blind.

I’d been terrified of forgetting. And I had.

My chest heaved. I had to tell him. I had to fix this.

I tried to push myself up. My muscles shook. The sedation tugged at my limbs like a tide dragging me back.

I whispered, "justin... get him... tell him... I remember." My voice cracked.

But no one came.

I pounded the chaise’s arm with my fist. The echo rumbled through the silent room.

I remember, Justin.

Tears fell in rivers. Angry, regretful, desperate.

I wanted to scream: "I’m sorry!"

"I never wanted to leave you!"

"I was scared!"

"I forgot you!"

But only a choked whimper made it out.

The voices rose again, a furious cacophony.

"Good. You remember. Now kill them all."

"You forgot to bring help. You left him!"

"He needed you!"

"They all deserve it!"

I shook my head until the world spun. I dragged my fingers through my hair, nails snagging.

No.

I clenched my fists, shutting out the whispering. I thought of Justin’s face, the way he looked when our eyes met in class—recognition and heartbreak.

I thought of his promise: "I’ll never let them take you again."

I whispered into the empty room, "I won’t let you down."

By dawn’s pale light, the mansion’s windows faced east. A faint glow leaked through the curtains. I mustered every ounce of will left in me and lurched up, heart wild.

I had to find Justin.

I staggered to the door, each step a battle against the sedation’s pull.

My vision cleared: the corridor beyond was carpeted, opulent—far from the dungeon’s terror. This was safety. This was home.

He’s here.

I heard his voice echo down the hallway—low, soft.

"June... please, just come back to me."

I followed the sound, stumbling, tears blinding me. Memories and voices flared behind my eyes, but I pushed forward.

When I burst into the sanctuary room, he stood by the chaise, head in his hands.

I called his name.

He looked up, shock and joy colliding in his eyes.

"Justin," I sobbed. "I remember. It was you. I—I forgot. But I remember now."

He dropped to his knees, enveloping me in his arms. I melted into him, crying against his chest. His hands stroked my hair, whispering, "I knew you would. I knew you had to."

The rest was a blur: his tears, my apologies, his "I love you’s," and the quiet vow that we would face the darkness together.

We stood there as the candles guttered low, shadows dancing on the walls.

Outside, the mansion-slash-cave held its breath.

Inside, we found each other.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep the darkness at bay—for one more dawn.

******

As Justin wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into the warmth of his chest, my body shuddered—not from comfort, but from the weight that suddenly pressed down on me like a thousand jagged stones.

I wanted to melt into him.

I wanted to believe this was safety, that this was love.

But the moment his embrace tightened, so did the noose around my thoughts.

You don’t deserve this.

The voices slithered in like smoke, curling through the cracks in my mind.

You don’t deserve him.

I froze in his arms.

Justin’s heartbeat was steady against my cheek, his hand softly stroking my back. "It’s okay," he whispered. "You’re safe now. I’ve got you."

But I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t.

You left him, the voices sneered. He gave you everything. He trusted you. And what did you do, Number Twelve?

The number carved itself into my thoughts like a hot brand.

You forgot.

I choked back a sob. My fingers gripped his shirt so tightly they trembled.

I forgot.

He had risked his life for me. Shoved me into that trash chute. Turned the guards away with his own screams. And I had forgotten.

Not just him—everything. Every tortured child still behind those walls. Every promise made under flickering lights and blood-slick hands.

I had promised to bring help.

And I never did.

Instead, I was adopted. Given clean clothes. A new name. A mansion.

By them.

By the same monsters who ran the world from polished offices while children screamed in underground cages.

I was no survivor. I was a traitor.

The voices didn’t stop.

You should have died there with him.

You forgot him. You forgot the others. You lived in comfort while they bled out in labs.

Betrayer.

Coward.

And now—now you’re a murderer, too.

The image slammed through me: the man at the counter. My hands clutching the fork. Blood on my fingers. His eye a ruined socket. Screams echoing as I stabbed again and again and again—

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my face into Justin’s shirt as if I could make it go away.

But I couldn’t. I still felt it.

The warm stickiness on my skin. The sound of gurgling breath. The dull thud when he hit the floor.

I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

I shook in Justin’s arms. He held me tighter, mistaking it for fear.

But it wasn’t fear anymore.

It was revulsion.

At myself.

"Justin..." My voice cracked as I pushed back slightly, needing to look at him. "You shouldn’t..."

He blinked, concerned. "Shouldn’t what?"

I swallowed, throat raw. "You shouldn’t hold me like this."

His brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I don’t deserve it."

I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes, quick and sharp, like a lash. "Don’t say that."

"But it’s true." My voice broke. "I left you. I left you in that place to die. I was supposed to bring help, and I never did. I forgot everything. I forgot you."

Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and endless.

"I don’t even know how," I whispered. "I don’t know what they did to me. But I lived like I was normal. I smiled. I laughed. While you were out there—alone. While the others..."

I couldn’t say it.

He cupped my face, brushing his thumbs along my cheeks, gentle as moonlight. "June, listen to me—"

"No," I shook my head, stepping back. "You don’t understand. The voices... they told me. I see it now. I see everything. I’m not just broken, I’m tainted. There’s blood on my hands, Justin. I stabbed that man. I wanted to kill him. I would’ve if you hadn’t—"

"He deserved it," Justin growled, his expression darkening. "He deserved worse."

"That doesn’t make it right!" I gasped. "I didn’t even think. I was... gone."

My hands trembled at my sides. "I think I still am."

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked to mine.

Then, softly, "I know that look."

I blinked.

"I’ve seen it before. In the mirror. On other kids who made it out and didn’t know how to live with what was left." He stepped forward again, slower this time, like I was a deer about to bolt. "You’re not tainted, June. You’re traumatized."

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

"I know what the voices say. I’ve heard them too. For years. Telling me I was a weapon, a failure, a monster." He shook his head. "But you’re not any of those things."

"I stabbed someone," I whispered. "That makes me a monster."

"No," he said, voice low and fierce. "That makes you someone who finally fought back."

The room tilted.

"You didn’t forget because you didn’t care. You forgot because they made you forget. Don’t you see? They conditioned us. They twisted our minds. They’re still doing it. They tried to bury who you were so deep you’d never find her again. But you did. You did, June."

I stared at him, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a scream.

"I don’t care how long it took," he whispered. "You came back."

My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. He followed, kneeling with me, arms wrapping around my trembling body again.

"I didn’t come back for you," I choked. "You came back for me."

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t need to.

Because the guilt still lived inside me. The shame. The voices. But now they were quieter.

Now, for the first time... I wasn’t alone.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the only thing that could silence them for good.

Not forgiveness.

But being seen.

Justin saw me.

Even when I couldn’t bear to look at myself.

He saw Number Twelve.

He saw June.

And he stayed.

He stayed.