Most of this chapter is a memory. Also, I apologize in advance for the way I ended this chapter.
My steady walk has turned into a limp. I've walked with a limp before, so I didn't notice it until Nandini pointed it out, but now that I know it seems too obvious. It's constantly there, reminding me of the injury on my leg. Before I just ignored it, pretending that everything was okay. But now I'm constantly reminded that I'm hurt and at risk. There's also a burning sensation in my back. Paired with the chills that are going down my spine, I feel like someone is holding a match to the wound on my back and dumping ice down my shirt at the same time.
It does not feel good.
I curse Janson for cutting my back and then throwing me out here in the Scorch. I don't doubt he knew I was going got be out here not ten minutes after he did that. He could have at least shown a little mercy and given me water. My mom always told me I was important to the Trials, so shouldn't they value their prized subject a little more?
Or maybe it's my death that's important to them.
I resist the urge to laugh. Even death would be a mercy by now.
" Are you okay? " Nandini asks, looking over at me. We're about a mile or two from the city now—so close to safety. Or what I'm hoping is safety. " You look a little pale. "
" I'm fine. " The words scratch my throat trying to come out, like I've inhaled sand. How is Nandini fine? How is she not nearly falling over with exhaustion? My legs are shaking right now and I'm so lightheaded. My head pounds with each step, making me think that there's a monster stuck inside of me trying to claw it's way out. The further I walk the worse it gets. Just one drop of water would help.
Don't even mention the hunger. I've always loved food, and now I've gone days without it. I have nearly no energy, making my body feel like an empty husk. I feel like my insides are eating themselves. The growl disappeared a long time ago. Now it's just an ache—a vast container of emptiness.
" No, you're not. " Nandini sends me a pointed look, and I would've stuck my tongue out at her if I had the energy. " We should take a break. "
" No. " I say. At the rate we're going we'll reach the city by sun-up. We can find someone that might offer a hand to help.
" You aren't going to find any help there. "
Well that's a mood killer.
" They are all Cranks. Sent here by WICKED because they want to try and contain the virus until they get a cure. "
" But there are still supplies, right? " The hope is blatantly obvious in my voice. Even a can of beans would be heavenly. Just give me something to fill me up.
" Yea, but they are going to be hard to find. "
The city is probably where Brenda and Jorge are. If I find them, they could help me. Us. They wouldn't shun Nandini. They're both immune so Nandini couldn't give them the Flare. I considered Brenda my friend. You can't turn a friend away when they're sick and dying.
Wait. Does Brenda know Noah is….dead? If she doesn't—I don't want to be the one to deliver that message. I've barely come to terms with it myself.
Oh my god what if she didn't survive the raid at WICKED headquarters? What if she's dead? There would be nope hope out here for me. Maybe Nandini has connections and can get us supplies. But Brenda. Dead. I had hoped that by some miracle she would be alive.
No, I can't jump to conclusions. The only way to find out is to march into that city and see what happens. We'll probably die, but that's something I can live with.
At least we'd be with our families.
A splitting headache echoes throughout my skull—even worse than the one I had before. My steps falter and I fall to my knees as the world starts to sway. No, no, no. Not now. Nausea hits me like a punch to the stomach and black spots swim across my vision.
" Are you okay? " Nandini drops to her knees next to me. She eyes the look on my face and panic flashes across hers, " What's wrong? "
I try to force the words, ' This is normal, ' out, but it doesn't happen.
I fall face first into the sand and lose my grip on reality.
….
That stupid kid Minho is at it again. He's arguing with another one of the kids—Reed I think. They both look like they're about ready to start throwing their food at each other. It would be such a waste of food to have them do that. Don't that know that there are people in the world starving?
Minho's hand snakes towards the spaghetti on his plate as he yells at Reed, spit flying from his mouth. The scientists don't pay any attention to them. This happens daily. But if Minho starts a food fight…. Our privileges would be revoked for a month! He would be sentenced to construct the Maze instead of just studying. The rest of us wouldn't be able to leave our rooms because of his bad behavior. It would be horrible!
I'm up and moving before I realize what I'm doing.
Only, I'm too late.
I'm in front of Minho just as the spaghetti leaves his hand. I manage to dodge it and it hits Reed right in the face, making sauce splatter across his cheek. He stands there for a moment, shell-shocked, and then he grabs a handful of mac n' cheese and throws it a Minho, pretending like I'm not there. In a moment of panic I duck, and it hits Minho on the chin. I crouch on the floor and crawl away while looking at the white tiles, feeling disgusted when food lands on my back.
I just got this shirt yesterday. It was the one thing I had that was new.
Screw the consequences. I'm sick of him ruining everything I own.
With a scowl I stand, grabbing a handful of something off of someone else's plate and hurl it at Minho. It hit's him right in the ear, and he turns and glares at me. His eyes narrow when he realizes who threw it, and he grabs the carrots on the table and throws them at me. They aren't sliced, or diced. They're just carrots. So I catch them and throw them back at him, laughing when they hit him right on the nose.
" Bitch! "
" She is not! " Newt yells while slamming his hands on the table and standing. I hadn't even realized he was in here. That just shows how good of a friend I am.
" Yea right. And who are you? Her boyfriend? " He taunts the words and Reed uses the distraction to snake behind him with two bowls full of mashed potatoes.
Newt's face tints a shade of red. Great. Now Newt's so mad his face is turning red.
I smirk as Reed presses the bowls of mashed potatoes to Minho's cheeks. Minho's face hold shock for the shortest second as the potatoes slide down his cheeks and drop on to his shirt. Then he flips Reed over his shoulder and pins him to the ground. Not fair. Reed hasn't had any training yet. No one but Minho and Alby have. And of course—by special request of my mother—me.
I use that training to kick Minho off of Reed and I feel one of his ribs shudder under the impact. He groans and then mumbles:
" Bitch. "
So I kick him again. How can I be a bitch if I'm only ten?
" You know, " Minho coughs up a little blood on the floor, " You're only proving my point. "
" You have a habit of screwing up my life, even when I try to avoid you. " I hiss, resting my foot on his arm. " Just think of this as a little revenge. "
But it's like he didn't even hear the last part.
" Admiring me from afar, are we? " He smirks, and I stomp on his shoulder. His arm dislocates with a sickening crack and he cries out. I suppose I am being a little rough, but he did break one of Newt's toes last week. It may have been an accident, but Minho shouldn't have been trying to juggle weights when he can barely lift them. Newt just happened to be too close him. And before that, Minho spiked my drink. Where he got the alcohol, I have no clue. It's not allowed in WICKED, and I was a drunk ten year old.
" Bitch. " He hisses through gritted teeth. I'm about to lean down and start punching him when I feel a light touch on my shoulder. I turn my head and see my mother staring down at me with disapproval lacing her features.
" Since you did this, you can take him to the medic. " She looks toward Reed who is trying to melt into the wall. " I'll take care of him. "
I groan. " But mom… "
She silences me with one glare.
" Okay I'll do it. " I look down at Minho as she walks away with a satisfied look on her face. He looks perfectly fine to me. His arm is just resting on the ground at an odd angle. That's it. " Get up. "
He groans and curls in on himself with a wince.
" Don't be such a wimp " I nudge him with my toe, " Get up. "
He doesn't move.
" Fine then. Stay there and suffer. See if I care. " I start to walk away but his hand shoots out and grabs my ankle. I look down at him and see a conflicted look on his face. He's probably debating whether or not he wants help from the bitch that beat him up. It's help, and he's not in a position to refuse. Everyone saw my mother tell me to take him, and no one will make it seem like they helped me go against her. They would be fired.
I put my hand down to help him up. He wordlessly takes it, averting his eyes as I pull him up. We leave the cafeteria and walk through the halls. He seems to be able to look anywhere but me, and his remarks from earlier have ceased. He's holding his shoulder as he walks though, and I can't help but feel a little guilty about it. I suppose beating him up wasn't the best thing to do. I just…I just get so angry at him. He's hated me ever since we first met all those months ago. I don't remember what I did wrong. Well, he did call me fat, and I did punch him, but it was provoked! You can't call a girl fat and expect her not to get defensive.
We take a left, the antiseptic smell from the hospital area looming over us now. Minho winces with each step. I hadn't known he was such a wimp. If I had, I would've pulled back the kicks a little bit. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not. That was anger-fueled rage, and I directed it all at him. Nothing—except my mom—could've stopped me. Or maybe an apology from Minho. That's really all I want. I want him to apologize for all he's put me through—us through. Newt couldn't walk for three weeks, and he stills looks funny walking, like he has a limp.
If Minho caused permanent damage to Newt, God help him. No, even God won't be able to. I'll come at him like a whirlwind, punching and kicking and cussing. When that day comes, he better hope I'm either gone, crippled, or missing. Maybe even a combination of the three won't be enough to keep me form beating him.
We walk into the hospital area and I cringe at the smell. I've always hated it. It always reminds me of….
No. I can't think about that now. I might break down and start crying. I can't do that in front of Minho. Showing my emotions is being vulnerable.
The doctor here greets us with a smile.
" Hi! " She says, then eyes Minho's ragged form. " Did you finally snap, Louisa? "
I look down at the ground. I've never misbehaved before. Well except for the time I got drunk, but even that was his fault.
" It's good to let it out. " She turns and rummages through the cabinet behind her, then slams it shut with a sigh. " I'm sorry. I'm going to have to go get something. You two stay here. "
Her ruby-red lips stretch into a wide smile—so wide it's almost creepy. But I manage a small smile back as we step to the side and she exits the room.
There's a bed against the far wall, and that's where Minho heads. I sit in the office chair and resist the urge to spin around. Mom always scolds me for that, so I doubt the doctor would appreciate it. I also resist the urge to search through the cabinets. The doctors help so many people, and I wonder how they do it. What medicines they use, and the methods.
" Why did you beat me up? " Minho asks while swinging his feet back and forth. I narrow my eyes at him and fold my hands in my lap.
" Do I have to have a reason? "
" You do. Anybody else I wouldn't have questioned. You never do anything with out having a reason. "
" Why do you hate me? "
His feet start swinging and he falls silent. I lean forward in my chair slightly and he makes it a point to stare at the wall as he mumbles something I don't understand.
" I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I don't speak gibberish. " I lean back again and sink into the chair. Beating someone up really takes a lot out of you.
" I. Don't. Hate. You. " He pronounces each word slowly like I'm a little child. I'm about to call him a filthy name, when I realize his words.
He doesn't hate me.
Then why does he always bully me?
" Huh? " Is the only thing I can stutter out. He looks back at me, his face tinted pink.
" Iactuallyreallylikeyoubutyouscaremebecauseyou'reagirlandIdon'tknowhowtotalktoyousoIcallyouabitchbecauseyouconfuseme. " Minho looks at his feet as he says everything in one breath. I'm actually impressed he had the lungs to say that without pausing.
" Again with the gibberish, Minho. "
" Never mind. "
" Well, " I start, and his eyes catch mine, " If you don't hate me, and I don't hate you, then why don't we call a truce? "
" A truce? "
" Yea. You don't bother me anymore, and I won't bother you. " I stand and walk over to him and sit down on the bed. I stick my hand out for him to shake. " Deal? "
He grabs my hand and shakes it.
" Deal. "
….
I hate memories. I love them, but I hate them. Why did that have to happen when it did? I was in the middle of the Scorch, and we were so close to making it to the city. I guess it was cool that I saw little me beat up little Minho. And me, drunk? I didn't think I ever had been. I just can't see it happening.
I sit up with a groan. The sun is beating down on me, meaning I was out for at least four hours, maybe longer. I can't see Nandini in front of me, and I briefly wonder where she went. If she left me, I really wouldn't care, but it would suck. We had an agreement, and I was actually starting to like her. She was still the same frail girl I saw in WICKED's basement, but she decided I wasn't someone to hate. That was progress. An almost friendship.
I definitely wouldn't miss that filthy mutt though. The dog was adorable and everything, but it was constantly panting and jogging ahead or behind us. It never just walked beside Nandini. And it was annoying. The amount of energy that dog had was inexhaustible.
I flop back into the sand with a sigh. I really don't want to move. Chills rack my spine and I'm so dizzy. The sand around me seems to move by itself and I squeeze my eyes shut. It's getting worse. I don't know if I'll survive this. I've always wondered if death would be an easy way out, but now that I'm looking it right in the eye, I'm scared. I want to live. If I die, I won't be able to get my revenge on WICKED. I won't be able to avenge my family.
My heart leaps to my throat when I hear footsteps crunching on the sand. I know I should open my eyes and see if it's a Crank or Nandini or that stupid mutt, but they don't seem to want to open.
Then a foot pokes my side.
" Do you think she's dead? " It's a man, probably middle-aged from the sound of his voice.
" Hmm? " This voice is a girl. I hear more footsteps, then a gasp. " Louisa? "
That's Brenda.
I try to open my eyes, but I'm so tired. There's no energy left for me to use. Even breathing is too hard. Is this it for me? Am I dying? I always thought my death would be more painful at the hands of Janson or WICKED. Screaming, crying, begging him not to do it. I suppose this death seems peaceful in comparison to that.
" Louisa! " I'm vaguely aware of Brenda grabbing my shoulders. " Noah will kill me if I let you die! Wake your ass up! "
Noah? He's dead. I hope I go wherever he is. My mom, my dad, my brother. Will I see them again?
My heartbeat slows and I lose consciousness, but I'm able to briefly wonder if Newt will be okay without me.
DON'T KILL ME PLEASE. I wasn't originally going to end the chapter like this, but it happened because I realized how bad her condition was and yea. Don't kill me please.
What did you guys think? I hope you liked it. My chapters are starting to get shorter. Am I not adding enough detail? Maybe it's just where I'm trying to get something timed right. Anyway, I'll get them back up to 3500 words instead of 3100 or 2900, when I reach that part I've been looking forward to writing since I started writing Fighting Against You. Yes, I did have some of Fighting For You planned way back in March. It's just the details I didn't know about.
{ Review Responses }
swagmaster5000 ~ YES LIFT THAT TABLE AND FLIP IT
Chipmunk1123 ~ I love writing about Minho's feelings and stuff. I have issues with rushing things along, so I've been trying to make sure I don't push the feelings on him. Also, maybe they all do. I dunno. I personally wouldn't blame them either.
{ End of Review Responses }
Anyway, I have to go wrap presents with my mom, Have a good day, evening, night, afternoon, morning!