CHAPTER 24:
"That went well." Adira mumbled under her breath as Newt slung his arm around her shoulder, not saying much.
They stood at the edge of the Glade in silence, observing the movement of the boys carefully; Calvin talking to Kasper, Nico slinking into the Homestead, Fry wiping another tear, Clint chiding Jack, Gally with his face set like stone.
It wasn't so much the fact that Gally had finally upped his game and had openly declared his disapproval for her, but more the fact that she had been spewing lies and condolences that meant nothing in the long run.
"There's nothing to be done." Newt muttered, "We'll work tomorrow-"
"Do you think I'm a bad person for lying to them?" she interrupted, her head fixed on the surly image of Gally yelling at her.
Newt looked dumbstruck as if he was unsure why she had asked him anything in the first place, "No, of course not."
"Be honest." She asked quietly, fiddling with the hem of her tattered shorts. She really needed new ones, but there were no spare clothes in the Glade and the Creators weren't sparing any sympathy for her.
"I am." Newt said, frowning lightly, "I wouldn't lie about this."
At her disbelieving nod, he sighed, "Seriously. I know you're feeling as if you're doing worse for them all by not telling them the truth, but honestly, Ad, trust me when I say in this case, ignorance is bliss."
She turned to him, finding only sincerity in his face and she relented, blowing out a tired breath and crossing her arms. She knew she could trust Newt to tell her the truth; he never really did like lying, but she also knew he wouldn't tell the truth bluntly, not now. Usually, he'd be straightforward but now, it felt like he was persuading her to see some foreign, obscure concept that she would never be able to understand.
Newt patted her on the back and with a small smile he left her by the tree, his limp pronounced as he walked to the Homestead, greeting various boys and comforting the newer ones who had never tasted the bitter bite of death. He'd never change. Always noble and comforting and kind. She didn't doubt that he would make a better leader for the Glade.
Pushing herself backwards so she was leaning on the trunk of the tree, she formed a fist with her hand, pulling out browned strands of dead grass and throwing it to the side absentmindedly, the actions happening as if on a robotic loop.
The Doors had closed already and the boys were readying themselves for dinner, their slouched forms queuing into the Kitchens as they made light conversation with each other, empty insubstantial mutters to ease the knowledge of Tristan's dead body lying outside their safe circle. She couldn't tell if there was any surprise amongst the Gladers, their dulled eyes the only sign of dismay.
"You did well."
She turned, finding Minho standing next to her on her right. Patting the grass, she shuffled to the side, allowing him to sit down next to her, his familiar scent filling her nostrils.
"It went okay, I guess." she acknowledged, looking up at the sky, the dusky reds of the sunset easing her discomfort.
Minho nodded sharply, leaning back against the tree and closing his eyes in apparent contentment. Contentment was the wrong word, but the expression on his face was the closest thing to peace.
"I heard what you asked Newt." he said, still holding a face of tranquillity. She nodded even though he couldn't see her, finding herself studying his face, the straight nose, pronounced cheekbones and the jawline. Truly, she hadn't been lying all those years ago when she'd told him his bone structure was phenomenal. She would have swooned had the situation been different.
"Well?" she asked half-heartedly, knowing he'd tell her his opinion whether she wanted to hear it or not.
Minho suddenly looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes, "You're not a bad person. But you're not a good one either."
She would've blushed since he'd caught her staring at him, but she was far too confused with his statement to feel embarrassed.
"What does that even mean?"
Minho smirked at her reaction as if he'd expected it before returning to his earlier position, "You're a slinthead for lying to them, Ad, and you know that. But you also know it's for the greater good. See, Newt…he's a good guy, better than both of us- the shank's all noble and all that klunk- wouldn't lie if he had a choice. Us on the other hand…"
"This is different though." Adira said, "Newt knows that telling the Gladers the Maze is unsolvable is basically death."
"He wouldn't lie if he had the choice." Minho amended, "And this isn't really much of a choice if we're being honest. "
She mulled over his words, "You're always right, idiot."
"That's paradoxical." Minho muttered, leaning back on his hands, "Anyway, the point is, stop worrying. You're going to drive yourself crazy with the klunk you come up with. "
"I don't come up with klunk!"
"Right. And we're not stuck in a circle with monsters crawling around in a shuck Maze."
She gave him a withering glare in response and he shrugged, trying hard to hide his smile. She relented, "Sometimes, I can go overboard."
"Glad you said it and not me." Minho said.
"I'm this close to smacking you." Adira muttered, putting her fingers close together till they were nearly touching, "This shucking close."
Minho laughed.
"Finish your vegetables!"
Adira pouted, playing with the big floret of broccoli on her plate, her already tiny appetite diminishing into nothing.
"I don't like them, Mum."
Her mum came over, drying her hands on a dishcloth and Adira looked up at her, the face of her mother blurry and undistinguishable through the haze of the memory.
"Come on sweetie, your brother's finished all his."
"I don't want it, Mum."
Thomas looked over at her, giving her a look of sympathy before his eyes refocused onto their mother. She had gotten thinner, weaker and there was only ever a frown on her face nowadays, no hint of the smiling carefree woman she used to be. The twins had, of course, noticed and they were quieter, more obedient so as to not incur her anger but if there was anything that could set Adira off, it was broccoli.
"I don't have the time for this…" her mother muttered, slumping onto the chair adjacent to Adira, her head buried in her hands.
Thomas took his chance, swiping the broccoli off her plate and shoving it messily into his mouth, swallowing the half chewed food rapidly. Adira grinned at him, before giving a few seconds and tapping her mother's arm.
"What!" she exclaimed and Adira's grin faltered slightly. But then she was smiling, albeit tired and stressed, but it was the first smile in a long while.
"Good. Good girl." She offered another nervous smile and Thomas grinned back at Adira secretively. Her mother was shaky nowadays, so seeing a glimpse of her former self was gratifying to say the least.
The news radio was a quiet hum in the background while the twins finished up their lunch, overlooked by their anxious mother. They didn't know why she was so on edge. Nervously heading over to the radio, she turned it up, suddenly focusing all her attention onto the monotone dialogue issuing forth from the small cantankerous device.
"Governments around the world are all unable to reach an agreement. Unrest has already been witnessed in places such as Yemen, where many men, women and children have been found dead after what appeared to be an open ground shooting by a group of army personnel. Our Prime Minister has issued forth a statement, declaring that the coming months could bring with it; "war and fear" and that people should not panic, and should instead calmly arrange safety measures within their homes."
Thomas looked at Adira who was silently listening to the dull voice, her face as blank as her empty plate.
The twins said nothing afterwards, silent and quiet as their mother turned the radio off and took great, shuddering breaths in, her hand on her chest, a single tear escaping her eye.
They knew why she was crying now. Their father was in the army and their mother was getting more and more agitated with the news of warfare that could be nuclear. Sure, they had no idea what nuclear was, but it sounded bad and if their mum was crying about it...
Thomas pushed back his plate as his mother fled up the stairs, her light brown hair streaming behind her as she raced up the wooden flight, leaving the siblings alone.
The silence filled the airy room and the twins did nothing to disrupt it.
"Oh for the love of-"
Adira chuckled at Newt's frustration as he swept a hand over his forehead, standing up to his full height, and hands on his hips.
"Stop laughing." He whined, leaning back down to the vines of tomatoes that were tangled together, so much so that even Newt's trained fingers could not release them.
"Sorry." She apologised, sounding not even a little bit apologetic. Newt caught onto her insincere tone and he rolled his eyes at her before squatting down and frowning at the intertwined tomatoes, completely discombobulated.
"Calvin can deal with these." Newt declared after a minute of keen observation, slapping his knees with an air of finality. "What month is it again?"
In the Glade, time was a tricky thing to measure- there were no clocks, and although the Gladers often tracked the sun for their time throughout the day, knowing the actual day was hard. So they went by the months, which they could calculate according to the year, whihc began at the arrival of the First. She was honoured.
She pursed her lips as Newt winced with the realisation of what came out of his mouth, "The thirty fourth month. Thirty fifth tomorrow."
"Sorry."
"It's fine." she said smiling, "Really, Newt, you don't have to walk on eggshells around me."
Newt glared at her unconvincing attempts to soothe him, returning to the tomatoes again though he'd previously passed a statement of defeat.
"Right. I'm not though."
Adira sighed uncomfortably, rubbing her hands along her forearms, "You are."
Newt rolled his eyes, mumbling an indecipherable something under his breath. She frowned at his head, before reaching forward and knocking her knuckle hard on him.
"OW! What's your shucking problem woman?" Newt asked, glaring at her and rubbing his scalp as if someone had ripped his hair out. Honestly, he was such a drama queen.
"You." Adira replied, smiling sweetly as she jumped down from the branch and patted Newt's shoulder condescendingly as the older boy groaned in frustration.
She strode towards the Homestead, smiling slightly as she heard Newt's footsteps jogging up to her, filling the air with curse words she didn't even know existed. That was Newt for you.
"Where are you going?"
"To Calvin!" she yelled back and she heard Newt speed up until he was right next to her.
"I'll come with ya."
She grinned at him and he grinned back before knocking her head equally as hard as she had done. Groaning slightly, she glowered at the blonde who was cackling with laughter at her side, huffing and looking around the Glade to find the familiar siren red hair that indicated Calvin's presence.
"Look…about the three years thing-"
"Seriously, Newt, I'm fine."
Newt raised his eyebrows, "That's how I know you really bloody aren't."
She have him an unimpressed frown before turning squarely towards him and putting her hand on her heart, "I swear, I swear, I'm fine."
Newt looked at her seriously for a moment before nodding sharply. He knew she was okay for now, but as soon as the next Greenie came up, she would retreat into a shell, fiercely defending herself and her new home, like a hermit crab.
"Oi, Adira! Newt!"
She turned at the voice, detecting the slight panic in the tone, "Frypan?"
Newt shrugged and they jogged to meet the cook who only pointed to the Med Hut, completely exhausted from running.
Changing directions, Newt and she jogged lightly to the Med Hut, theorising on their way.
"Clint?" Adira asked, kncking on the Med Hut door.
"He's an absolute shank." Clint greeted, "Gone and almost lopped his arm off."
"Oh dear." Adira blinked at Clint, already feeling the general uneasiness that came from being in the Med Hut.
"That's right." Clint said, shaking his head almost angrily, "His arm's taken a proper beating."
Newt grimaced and he walked through the linen sheet that separated the furthermost bed from the rest of the Med Hut. Clint huffed, "Newt will get a shock, just watch."
As predicted, Newt came back from the bed looking slightly green and holding his stomach in a pacifying sort of way. Had the situation been different, she knew she would've felt familiar bubbles of laughter swell in her throat, released into the silence that covered the Med Hut like a suffocating blanket.
"Well, he'll get amputated." Clint said briefly, "I don't think it's as bad as it seems. "
Adira raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
Clint rolled his eyes, snapping on a pair of gloves, "Not the amputation. Yeah, it's klunk, but he won't die."
"Reassuring." Newt mumbled and Adira couldn't tell whether he meant it or not.
"Definitely." Clint replied clinically, "And if you want to hear a guy screaming bloody murder, then you can stay. If not, leave."
Adira shared an apprehensive look with Newt but both of them reached the conclusion that they'd stay. Seemed like an obligation.
"Fine. Suit yourselves." Clint shrugged before beckoning Jeff over.
"Sorry." Jeff mumbled as he slinked past Adira, his face paler than usual. She pursed her lips, remembering Nick's severed body. The urge to puke suddenly rekindled its fire.
"Aren't the Doors closing? Minho will be back." Newt cut in quickly, sensing her discomfort. Clint didn't even notice, his face thoughtful as he inspected Calvin's arm that was thankfully out of sight. Jeff was nodding intently to whatever his Keeper was saying, eyes fixated on the imaginary image of a bloody stump of an arm that her mind had conjured up.
"You're right, I'll go. He'll throw a hissy fit if I don't bring him his shuck water." She said queasily, before wishing Clint luck and practically sprinting out of the Med Hut, where the sharp smell of iron filled the air. She was unbelievably thankful that Newt had proffered an escape of sorts; the images of Nick were flashing on repeat in her head, blinding her with their rapidity and their intensity.
"You look off." Was the first thing Minho said, sharply frowning as they made their way to the Map Room. She could tell he wasn't in the best of moods, a muscle in his jaw ticking. It warmed her that he bothered to ask her about her problems first.
"Calvin's getting his arm amputated." Adira said shortly, opening the door for the Keeper whose frown still marred his face.
Minho shrugged, though his eyebrows raised slightly, "And? Klunk like this happens. Doesn't explain why you look like…that."
"Thanks Min." she deadpanned, taking out a piece of paper for him, before giving a proper answer, "It just reminds me of Nick. But it's fine, Clint says he'll be okay after an amputation."
"Ah."
She watched the exact motions of Minho's hands, his slender fingers drawing out the repeated, familiar lines on the scratchy paper, "It hasn't changed."
There was slight irritation in his voice and she narrowed her eyes at his tone," I was just looking,"
He shrugged, "And it hasn't changed."
"Don't be a slinthead," she said, deflating slightly, "and remind me, again."
Minho didn't say anything, locking away the map into its corresponding box, the click of the latch resonating in the silence. She opened her mouth to say something, to ask him what was wrong, before being cut off by the Map Room's door opening and revealing a dishevelled looking Ben.
"Hey guys." he greeted tiredly and she gave a smile whilst Minho nodded somewhat diplomatically.
"Draw the maps out right, Ben. You rushed yesterday's." Minho said.
"Sorry boss." Ben responded, attempting at a joke and Minho's face softened a little from its earlier hardness. "I wanted to ask earlier, but can I have a new watch? Only, mine broke, when I smashed it."
Adira sputtered out a laugh at his embarrassed face, sensing a story, "How?"
"I-I walked into a wall. Ran into it, actually." Ben mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, "But that's not the point!"
Minho slapped him on the back, smirking at the boy, "Shuckfaces like you have their eyes on the back of their heads but not on the front. Easy prey."
Ben muttered something under his breath before shoving his map away and looking at Minho, "So?"
Minho raised his hands up as if in surrender and pointed to Adira, "I ain't in charge of the stocks, shank. Gotta ask the one and only Admiral for that."
She rolled her eyes at his nickname for her position, before hopping down from the table she was seated on and showing him to the stocks. Minho was a petty little shank. He knew he was actually in charge of what went out to who when it came to anything the Runners needed, but he clearly wanted to spite her. Fine. She'd play his petty games.
"Here." she strapped the black, dark screened watch onto Ben's wrist, tapping the screen so it shone back to life, "Same as the old one."
"Awesome." Ben said, smiling at her and Minho cleared his throat as he eyed her hand on Ben's wrist coolly. Ben retracted his arm awkwardly, sensing the growing tension in the room as Adira crossed her arms and fixed a dispassionate stare on his Keeper.
"Uh, Minho? I can't run tomorrow, I have a cold coming up front. I'll be ill as hell by tomorrow." Ben informed quietly, his eyes darting between the two alphas. Minho gave him the tiniest nod as acknowledgement.
"I-I'll head out." Ben said to the silence, sneaking away silently. The gentle thud of the Map Room Door, broke them out of their silent challenge.
"Really, Minho?" she asked, angrily, "What crawled up your arse?"
Minho raised an eyebrow, his face steely again, "A shuck Griever."
She shook her head at him in irritation, though her voice was still even as she tried to reverse the escalation of their conversation, "What's wrong? You didn't look too happy coming out of the Maze."
Minho frowned deeply, anger prominent on his face before he suddenly burst out into a rant, "You act like you're the only one who deals with the Maze, Adira! But it shucking is my problem too! I run that shuck thing every day and every second I run I only think about how it isn't shucking solvable! So, you stop being a slinthead, and stop having shucking hope for something that isn't possible!"
She felt like someone had punched her stomach, knocking out all the air in her body. Her blood pounded in her head as shock overwhelmed her, his words looping on repeat in her head as Nick's distorted voice joined the storm.
"I hate running. But I don't complain." Minho said, not shouting, but not speaking normally either. Her stomach lurched in a sickening way. The muscle in his jaw jumped angrily and she took a step back, not used to this side of Minho. The anger, the rage, the clenched fists and the lack of control. He never raised his voice at her.
"I-I think-" she sucked in a breath, her voice trembling.
Minho's face was already morphing into one of regret, the anger fading and quickly being replaced by guilt. She'd always known his temper was terrifying, devastating even, but she'd never been on the receiving end. And it shucking hurt.
"I think you need to cool down. Go find Newt."
He was silent for a moment before he spoke again, words devoid of rage, "Ad, come-"
"Find. Newt." she gritted out, already by the door as she urged herself to not turn to look at him. "You act like you're the only one who deals with the Maze!"
The slamming of the Map Room door punctuated her words as she left the room, her entire body shaking with pain and anger. Normally, after Minho had blown up and exploded, she'd be the one who helped him regain normality and come down from the rage, but now, she wasn't there. He'd have to control it himself. Newt could help, but he was a sarcastic shuck and more often than not, he'd let something slip and Minho would lash out. Again.
She needed a shower. A nice, long warm shower to erase his hurtful words that had a ring of truth in them. Because that's what annoyed her the most. He was right. She was always, consistently, the one who would wallow in misery, always the one who would lean on others for support, always the one who would be a selfish shuck.
He was always freaking right.
And it hurt.
"How was the shower?" Clint asked as he finally took off his gloves after inspecting Calvin who was drugged and knocked out.
"Fine." she shrugged and Clint raised an eyebrow at her short answer, expecting more.
Throwing the gloves in the bin, he crossed his arms as he stared at the Leader of the Glade sat in his Med Hut, trying her very best to conceal the fact that she was, indeed, sulking. It was a change, he decided. He'd never really seen Adira upset or angry or anything other than professional and helpful and he'd never minded it since he knew there wasn't as much a connection between them as she and the Originals. But it seemed that she'd grown close to him in particular and he didn't hate it at all. She was the one who pulled him out of the Box after all, one of the first faces he'd seen. Whether she like it or not, he'd always be connected to her.
"How about this?" Clint suggested, pulling out a thick tome- the newest addition to the collection sent by the Creators- "Read through and get me anything useful for Cal. Shuck knows he'll need painkillers and the dill isn't going to cut it this time."
Adira nodded, taking the book from the Keeper, "It's heavy."
"This is medicine we're talking about; of course it's shucking heavy." Clint laughed cynically, running a hand through his crop of greying hair. It was a running phenomenon amongst the Gladers, how a boy so young could begin the ageing process so fast.
The answer was fairly obvious- he was a Med Jack. The stress he and Jeff went through was only comparable to teh Runners'.
He left her to her own devices, concocting more medicines and whatnot, preparing for someone else to inevitably injure themselves and come weeping to him for help. Reading through the book to collect the best painkillers for Calvin was a long journey, to say the least. Clint hadn't bothered to ask if she would eat dinner, knowing her answer and had left her in the solitude of the Med Hut, enlisting Newt's help to feed her.
"Hello there." Newt said softly, knocking the door as he walked in with a steaming plate of food.
She glanced up from the book, only about a third through it and smiled at the blonde who took her gesture as a good sign and advanced. She could smell Frypan's cooking- rice and curry for that night- and her stomach rumbled traitorously. Newt grinned at the sound.
"Food for you. No need to be missing supper just 'cos Min's a slinthead." Newt berated, setting the plate in front of her. Smiling gratefully, she shut the book and watched him drag a chair in front of her and sit down.
"I've talked to him." Newt resumed, as soon as she'd begun eating, "And he's a mess, I ain't gonna lie to ya."
She pulled a sour face at Newt who didn't look phased, "Okay."
"Okay?" Newt chuckled, "He's sorry."
"I'm sorry too." She said dryly, "Sorry that he felt this way about me this entire time."
"You know he didn't mean it." Newt sighed.
"I don't care whether he meant it or not, Newt. The point is, he's right, and I need some time to get over myself and we'll be best friends again." she huffed.
Newt leaned back, "Don't be difficult now. You know-"
"But he said it! And he's shucking right." she interjected and Newt quirked his eyebrow at her. She usually always let him talk, so her interruption pointed at her emotional turbulence. In all honesty, he was curious. Adira never usually got as upset or worked up as she did after a fight with Minho and it was, needless to say, strange to see her so unravelled and passionate in her anger.
"Look, I get it, you're upset. And you ain't gonna believe a lovin' word I say." Newt said, "But Minho's full of klunk and sometimes that shows in the way he talks."
She shook her head, feeling a little betrayed by Newt defending the Runner, "Are you sticking up for him? Because if he had a problem, he could've talked to me. I'm upset that he yelled at me now, instead of telling me his problem earlier."
"You're telling me what he said didn't hurt you one bit?" Newt questioned.
She stayed silent, not able to lie to the man who knew her the best. Looking up, she felt worse once she observed the lines of stress and the tiredness that clung to every cell on his body. He looked like he could use a good night's sleep.
Newt threw his hands in the air, "Bloody hell, I hate being the middle person! Get your shuck butt up and talk to him yourself, love, and do it soon, cos I really cannot handle that shuckface when he's moping around, being all grumpy!"
She smiled a little at that and Newt was encouraged, "I'll leave you be and I'll stop buggin' ya, but don't listen to him- he's wrong. You can come talk to us whenever you want whether it's about the shuck Maze or not. And that's a promise."
She wanted to argue back but Frypan had walked into the room, conveniently cutting her off as his larger than life aura struggled to reside with the clinical feel of the Med Hut. To say he looked out of place was an understatement.
"Adira!" he beamed, once his eyes landed on her, "And Newt!"
"Hey Fry." Newt grinned easily, slipping his hands into his pockets, "What brings ya here?"
"To see my favourite girl of course!" Fry said, rounding on her," Skipping dinner?"
"Sorry mum." Adira deadpanned, putting down her empty plate which mollified Frypan immediately, his angry expression clearing to a sated one.
"I thought I was the Mum of the Glade." Newt said, absentmindedly scratching his chin.
Frypan swelled up with pride, "Looks like I've knocked you off the throne, Newt. Shame on you!"
Newt laughed, raising a hand in farewell as he gave Adira a meaningful glance that she immediately decoded. Frypan didn't notice anything. It amazed her just how much flew over the Gladers heads.
"I just wanted to check you ate." Fry said, "I knew Newt got you a plate of something but eating it is different from getting it."
She nodded, "Thanks Fry. For the food, checking up on me."
"No problem at all." Frypan said cheerily, before pointing a finger at her, "Don't thank me for being a good friend."
She laughed as Fry suddenly sobered looking serious, "Look, the entire shuck Glade knows you and Minho fought-"
She sputtered in disbelief, frowning immediately "How?"
Fry grinned, "Well, Minho's upset and grumpy and you're usually with him when he's like that. But you're not there, like everyone thought you would be. So everyone put two and two together."
"Shucks." was all she said. The boys were worse gossipers than old ladies.
"Well, all I'm tryna say is I'm a friend too. If you wanna talk, you come straight to me."
She smiled warmly, "Thanks Fry."
He smiled back.
Adira was not pleased. Newt was not pleased. Minho was not pleased.
And with the entire main trio of the Glade out of sorts, the rest of the population were on edge and also, (surprise!) not pleased. Never before had anyone seen such intense division among the top ranking individuals of the Glade and to say that the boys weren't a teeny bit curious was a grave understatement.
"You're running Section 4." Newt said, looking extremely annoyed, "Cos Ben's not well and there's no other Runners free."
"Thanks Newt." she glowered, emphasising the blonde's name, "But I'll run Section 3."
"She's running Section 3." Newt said to Minho, his face reddening comically in irritation.
"Fine, but Newt, I'm running Section 2 today." Minho piped up.
Newt growled something under his breath before turning to Adira, "Minho is running Section 2 now."
"Great. I'll see you once I'm done Newt. Have fun welcoming the Greenie." she smiled, not really listening to the man and instead heading over to the corresponding Door. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just make out Minho waving in farewell to the second in command and jogging to his door, adjacent to hers.
The grinding of the Doors opening brought her out of her staring and she leapt through the crack, running hard as she released all the pent up energy left in her body. Her knee would definitely feel the effects of her all out sprint, but she couldn't find it in herself to care, too focused on allowing her legs to let loose.
Dust flew up around her, the particles blocking out the thin, watery sunlight streaming from above the tall walls, providing a hazy, darkened view of the corridors before her. Her lungs breathed the air in greedily, noticing the change in smell the deeper she travelled; a musky, woody smell that she had subconsciously come to associate with Minho. Except the jerk smelt just a little more appealing.
Maybe it was because only the day before yesterday, when she'd been running with Minho, she'd seen a Griever and she'd fallen into a false idea that she would not spot another one. Maybe that security let her get reckless and she found herself hearing the familiar, spine chilling ticking of the metal beasts as she was chewing Fry's gorgeous chicken sandwiches. How could it have come so close without her noticing?
"Shuck." she muttered, suddenly and unhelpfully noticing that she'd been swearing a lot more than usual.
Leaving her lunch on the floor, she got up, wincing a little as her knee protested. She was plain stupid and her pain was all on her- only two days ago she'd pushed full speed to help Tristan and she'd pressured her joint far too much today. The ticking was much more prominent now and she knew she had precious few seconds to decide the best course of action.
Mind racing, she knew she wouldn't be able to run back to the Glade with her aching knee but she really didn't want to have to fight the creature. It hit her then.
Section 3 was long, longer than Section 2 because of its tightly packed corridors. Section 2 was much breezier, with less turns and an overall more straightforward path back home and luckily for her, she'd only just passed the junction that allowed her to change sections.
Holding her breath, she edged towards the end of the corridor, thanking the goddamn Creators themselves that the Griever was on the other end of the corridor she was in. Not looking back, she threw herself into the passage between the two sections, gritting her teeth as the unearthly shriek of the monster resonated behind her, detecting her sudden jolt of movement. It was scrambling around the walls, tearing down strings of ivy as it raced behind her, always just on her heels. Forcing the muscles in her legs to cooperate, she gave into the adrenaline in her body, allowing the pain in her knee to dissipate into nothing and flying through the air, feeling light headed as her blood directed itself to her muscles. She couldn't help but feel a weird thrill of exhilaration as she hurtled like an out of control aircraft but the excitement was quickly clamped down as she felt the Griever edge on forward, gaining speed on her.
Gasping for air, sweat streaming down her face, she felt the biggest pang of regret she'd ever felt before in her short life. This was the way she was going to die. And it wouldn't have been as bad if only she'd made up with Minho. If only she'd reconciled with him, hugged him one last time and coaxed another one of his rare but delightful smiles. Their argument was stupid, petty and childish and the overwhelming need to see his dark eyes burn with their smouldering intensity as they gazed into her own almost pushed her over the edge. The way his arms wrapped around her easily, the strength in his stride, the wit in his eyes and his stupid humour- she regretted leaving him behind, angry and dejected. The way in which he'd drag her aside, ask her if she was fine, the way he cared for her and stood up for her, the way he let her fight her own battles, smirking from the side as she put people in their place.
The way she felt like she'd known him from the beginning of time, the familiarity in his embrace, the gold of his heart.
Minho.
Her knee giving out, she fell and darkness consumed her.