BAD HEROINES

The Same Boat

The heavy rain pounded against her body, seeping into her bones as she lay on her back, eyes closed, and facing the dark sky. Her eyelids fluttered before snapping wide open. Her chest heaved, rising and falling rapidly, as if she had just surfaced from a nightmare.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, her head swivelling as she took in her surroundings. Trees surrounded her, the relentless downpour drenching her. She had no idea where she was.

She struggled to remember how she had ended up here. She had been chased. Fragmented images of her fight for survival flashed through her mind. She had fallen down a slope, hit her head, and lost consciousness. Reaching back, she winced as her fingers pressed against the throbbing pain at the back of her head—proof that she had indeed hit it.

But her head wasn’t the only source of pain. A sharper, deeper agony burned in her upper arm. She remembered now—the bullet had grazed her.

"Ah," she grunted as a sharp pain shot through her skull. She tried to piece together more memories, but they remained shrouded in fog. Gripping her head, she attempted to ease the pounding sensation threatening to split it open, but nothing helped.

A groan of agony escaped her lips as the pain intensified, and just like that, she collapsed again, losing consciousness.

---

Her eyes snapped open, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She stared up at the wooden ceiling, her breath unsteady. The surroundings were unfamiliar. Her gaze shifted, taking in the wooden walls and floor.

Where was she?

She struggled to recall. She had been in the forest before she collapsed. Some memories were clear only recent ones. But the older ones… they were missing. The more she tried to dig, the worse the pain in her head became.

Pushing herself upright, she scanned the room. She was alone, but someone had clearly brought her here.

Staggering to her feet, she walked toward the window and peered outside. The area was quiet, the sky overcast with heavy clouds. Not far from the cabin, a river flowed steadily.

She turned sharply when she sensed a presence. The room had no door, and in the doorway stood a woman with brown skin, her hair cropped short in a crew cut. She wore a plain T-shirt and jeans.

The woman’s eyes widened when she saw her. She blinked, then called out, "Natalie!"

A voice responded from another room. "What?"

The woman added "She came back from hell. How am I supposed to believe this?"

The sound of rushed footsteps echoed, and suddenly, two more women appeared at the doorway. One had light brown skin and curly hair tied into a messy ponytail, wearing shorts and an oversized shirt.

Natalie glanced at Belle. "Is this what they mean by ‘bad bitches die hard’?"

They were shocked. When they had found her, she had been in a terrible state—her head injury was severe. Given their circumstances, they hadn’t risked taking her to a hospital. Instead, they had removed the bullet, cleaned her wounds, and given her antibiotics, leaving her to fight for her life.

Three days had passed. They had thought she wouldn’t wake up. Yet here she was, alive, though visibly weak.

Another girl stepped into the room, her face set in a deep frown. Her tattoo-covered hands gripped plastic bags filled with supplies.

"You don’t feel in danger anymore? Took you long enough to open up," she complained, irritation clear in her tone.

Only after meeting Natalie and Belle’s eyes did she realize why they had been distracted.

Natalie took one of the bags from her and patted her shoulder. "How would we survive without you? We’ll always be thankful. Did anyone follow you?"

Erica didn’t answer immediately. Stepping further inside, she glanced at the patient. She tried to maintain her composure, but the moment their eyes met, a chill ran down her spine.

Turning to Natalie and Belle, she muttered, "What are we going to do with this assassin? We can’t keep her here, or everything we’ve worked for will go to waste."

Despite her words, the patient had yet to move. She simply stared at them, confused and wary.

"Where am I?" Her voice was hoarse. "Who are you?"

"We saved you," Natalie replied calmly, taking a seat on a nearby wooden chair. Crossing her legs, she added, "You didn’t look like you’d make it, but I guess you had unfinished business."

Belle stepped closer.

Natalie and Erica tensed.

How could she be so reckless? Standing that close to a monster like her?

Belle’s expression darkened. "You might not know us, but that doesn’t apply to us. The whole world knows who you are. A murderer. You killed government officials and went on the run after they tried to extradite you back to your country."

The patient’s fists clenched.

She didn’t remember that. Those memories—those accusations—were buried in the fog. She knew she was wanted, but to be a murderer? To have killed officials? Her heart pounded.

"What else do you know about me?" Her voice wavered slightly.

Natalie and Erica inched forward, bracing themselves.

Belle, however, smiled. "Relax. We’re not turning you in. We’re in the same boat. At least, I am. Meeting you feels like… fate? Whatever. I don’t hate this."

"What’s wrong?" Erica snapped. "Thinking about killing us after we saved your ass?"

The patient’s gaze shifted toward her, then back to the tranquil river outside.

"I… don’t remember anything," she admitted. "I can’t remember."

Silence settled over them.

Belle’s eyes widened. "What do you mean? You have amnesia?"

"It’s possible," Natalie murmured. "She had a pretty nasty head wound."

The patient exhaled. "I don’t know why you saved me, knowing who I am. But I have nothing to offer you. I only remember being chased by the police before I fell."

"This bitch can’t be serious!" Erica scoffed. "She just forgot her sins? Just like that?"

"We didn’t save you for anything," Natalie said firmly.

Belle interjected, "Actually, we did. Join us. We’ll help you get your memories back, and—"

"Isabelle," Natalie cut in. "We need to talk."

The three women stepped out to discuss their situation.

Inside, the patient remained still, gathering her thoughts.

She raised her trembling hands, staring at them. Had she truly killed innocent people? She had no idea. But one thing was certain—she wasn’t a good person.

When the girls first walked in, her instincts had screamed at her to eliminate them if they became a threat.

She turned when she felt their presence behind her. The three women had returned.

Isabelle cleared her throat. "Like I said, we were on the run when we found you—except for Erica. Natalie’s situation is a little different. You don’t remember, but you’re from Hong Kong. You came to the U.S., caused some havoc, and now you’re being hunted. The point is, we’re all wanted here."

Hong Kong? It wasn’t surprising—she could tell she was different from them—but the idea of coming to a foreign country for crimes felt unreal.

"You have your reasons for running. So do we," Isabelle continued. "Like I said, join us, and we’ll help you regain your memories. But you have to help us too."

"What can I possibly do for you?" she asked. "And how will you help me?"

Isabelle exchanged glances with her companions. They hadn’t exactly thought that part through. What they needed from her was her strength and skills. As for how to help her… they had no idea.

"You can’t survive alone," Isabelle said. "Sticking together will make things easier. Don’t you think?"

Erica scoffed, frustrated. "I get why Isabelle wants you in. But let’s be real—you need us more than we need you. Stop pretending otherwise."

The girl lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Erica. For a moment, Erica’s heart skipped a beat—she had the unsettling feeling that she was being assessed, as if she were prey.

Then, in a polite tone, the girl asked, "What do they call me? My name?"

"Agatha Lee."

She let the name sink in.

"Agatha," she murmured. Then she turned back to them and said, "I'm in."