I have been itching to write a TMR story for so long sooo... here it is. Oneshots and drabbles about remembering. Because we all know these kids have pretty crappy memories.
P.S. - these are arranged chronologically according to their "present," not their memories. So we'll be seeing memories from people when they get their Swipes removed before, say, Thomas or Minho, who will remember much more slowly.
Enjoy :)
1. Aris
Aris figured that WICKED had a pretty sick sense of humour.
The white room he was placed in after they took out his Swipe had two sets of bunk beds - four beds - but there was only one other person inside.
Teresa.
She stared at him unfalteringly from the moment the door closed, her blue eyes following him as he sat on the bed across from her. Aris tried to avoid looking into her eyes, but it wasn't working very well. Teresa had a very piercing gaze, and he had a pretty good idea of what was on her mind.
There was also the matter of his pertrubing thoughts. His memories had cleared up almost as soon as he stood up from his operating bed, and now he was just left thinking about them, letting them swim in his mind, haunt his brain like horrifying ghosts.
Between the horrible memories and Teresa's glare, Aris figured it was better to face the evil you know.
He looked up and met Teresa's eyes. "My name's Jonathan. What's yours?"
"Deedee," Teresa replied flatly. "I don't give a shuck about that, though. I want to know what you think."
"Think about what?"
"You know what."
Aris pulled his lips in a taut line and looked away from his Group A counterpart. He did know what.
He is seven years old. Him and his parents live in Denver, but that's not where he was born. He was born in St. Louis, and he knows this with as much certainty as he knows that his name is Jonathan.
That day, two people in green jumpsuits show up. A man and a woman. They have a contraption, which they explain is supposed to test people for the Flare. There are three outcomes: infected, uninfected, and immune.
He isn't sure that he wants to be any of those things. The frightened looks on his parents' faces don't encourage his confidence. They hold onto his shoulders with firm grips, but that's not comforting. They have been acting odd lately.
"Parks, Jonathan," the man calls.
The woman reaches out her hand and urges him forward. He nervously shuffles toward her, and the contraption goes onto his face. There is silence in the room, then a puff of air in his eyes, then the cool metal leaves his face.
"Immune," the woman declares. "Parks, Eileen."
His mother walks forward, the contraption goes on her face. One word and his life changes forever.
"Infected."
Next is his father. The same word.
His parents start crying uncontrollably. He has never seen them so distressed, and he's not sure if it's because of the situation or because the Flare is affecting their brains.
"Your boy will be coming with us," the man says as he crudely points at him.
"Make sure he keeps up with his mathematics," his mother says between sobs. "He's so good at math. My brilliant boy."
The woman chuckles, and he finds the sound a little frightening and unfitting to what is happening around him. She looks over at the man and says, "I guess we know what to call him, huh?"
"There's no nickname to Pythagoras," the man says. "How about Aristotle? We'll call him Aris. Sounds normal enough, especially considering he's anything but normal."
Aris looked back at Teresa's steely stare. She had a slight frown on her face, and it made him nervous. Nervous that he would say the wrong thing. What did Minho say before Rat Man took him away? It was something about Teresa's loyalty to WICKED - that much Aris could recall. But now, he knew now exactly how involved Teresa was - more than Minho could ever imagine.
But what did it matter at that point, anyways? Their lives were decided. One of them was going to lose his mind - literally. Aris could say whatever he wanted, as far as he was concerned.
"I think we need to leave. I think you - I mean, WICKED is wrong. I think WICKED is wrong."
"So do I."
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Sneak peak of next chapter:
"Whoa!" Sonya exclaimed, throwing her hands up and cutting them off with a nervous laugh. "Can I sit? I just had a damn probe in my ear."
"Right."
"Sorry."
The four girls walked over to where the bunk beds. Harriet, Joan, and Dora sat on one bed so Sonya could lie down on the other bottom bed.
The moment her head hit the pillow, she had the first clear thought all day.
Anita Banks.
