The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl

31

I slammed myself against the door, but it wouldn't budge. The bones of my shoulder were aching when Newt pulled me back, allowing Minho and Thomas to kick at the door.

I swore, loudly. My breathing became heavier, my vision starting to blur at the edges.

"Calm down, Emily," Newt said. "We're getting out of here."

I was about to respond when a voice boomed through the air. All Subjects, except for Subject Z0, step backwards until your backs are against the wall.

Minho instructed the voice to go do something particularly painful to itself and kicked the metal door again.

The door is now electrified, the voice announced, and a low hum followed, signalling that it hadn't lied.

Thomas pulled Minho, who was willing to test the truth of the voice's words, back.

The monotonous voice repeated its initial order. When nobody moved, it did it again, changing the ending. All Subjects, except for Subject Z0, step backwards until your backs are against the wall. If you refuse to comply, the room will fill with poisonous, lethal gas in thirty seconds. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty—

"What do we do?" Chuck asked, panicked.

The voice continued the countdown, the numbers ringing in our ears.

"Do it," I urged. "It's either you do it or we die."

"I'm not leaving you," Newt said, clasping my hands, his eyes wide.

"It isn't bluffing," I insisted. "Please, Newt, do as it says."

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen—

"Go!" I yelled, shoving him.

The boys complied, going to stand beside the wall. I remained in the centre of the room.

Four glass cylinders shot down from the ceiling. They were confining the boys before I could blink a second time. Thomas was the first to shout, landing a blow on the transparent surface. The hit didn't even echo. Newt's eyes widened, and I met his gaze. He began raging out, using all of his force to try and break free. The cylinders didn't yield to their attack.

Newt shouted my name, but it got to my ears muffled, as though he was underwater.

I didn't have the time to approach him. An image was projected onto the wall in front of me.

"Let them go!" I hollered.

"But why would we do that?" the same voice from the tape spoke.

It was Ava Paige, staring at me with cold, emotionless eyes. For a moment, the thought that we didn't look alike flashed through my mind, but it was quickly replaced by the anger running through my veins.

"You're the most prominent Subjects until now. I have to admit, I didn't expect my little integration experiment to work as well as it did."

"You're evil," I hissed, narrowing my eyes at the woman in the projection. "You deserve to suffer."

The Creator's nostrils flared. "Does doing everything to save the world deserve to be repaid with suffering?"

"You killed all of our friends, and for what?"

"The ends justify the means, Subject Z0. The whole world will be thankful soon enough."

The floor opened. I stepped back as a white table rose from below. On it, there was a syringe, filled with a water-like liquid. The boys were still screaming, the noise muted.

"Subject Z0, we will free your. . ." Paige paused, not finding the right word, "friends, if you inject yourself with the substance inside the syringe."

Her words sent the boys into an outrage, their kicks becoming even more fervent.

"What's in the syringe?" I asked, though I already assumed.

"You are a threat to our system," Ava Paige responded simply.

Another wave of yells and blows resounded through the room. I turned my head towards Newt, whose knuckles were already scraped and bloody.

"Emily, don't," he mouthed, desperate. "Please, Emily, please."

I averted my gaze, knowing that the pain on his features would be enough to stop me. But it was either me, or them, and the choice had never been easier.

"Will it hurt?" I inquired, voice unwavering.

The woman shook her head. "Not at all. After the dose is injected, you'll only have a couple of minutes left."

"Promise me that you'll free them," I said through gritted teeth.

The Creator nodded solemnly.

The syringe was as light as a feather in my hand when I stabbed the needle into my arm. I watched the liquid disappear, entering my body. I breathed in and out, in and out.

The projection vanished. My knees gave way and I collapsed to the ground. To my surprise, the glass barriers lifted, freeing the boys. They ran to me, and Newt was kneeling next to me before I knew it, pulling me into his lap. I looked up at his tear-stained cheeks, at the pain his eyes spoke of.

"Why?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why did you, Emily?"

The other boys knelt around us. One of them was wracked by sobs. Another was cursing so fluently that I laughed, a dry sound that made me cough.

"To save you," I whispered, stumbling on the words. "Told you I'd do it."

"Bloody hell," Newt choked out, crying now. "We would've figured it out."

"She was . . . she was right," I whispered, remembering what Paige had said on the tape. I mustered the strength to lift my hand, and I caressed Newt's wet cheek. "I won't . . . be the one to . . . lead you to safety."

"Don't say that," Newt pleaded, his voice cracking. "We need you. I need you."

I allowed a faint smile to tug on my lips, feeling the weight pressing on my chest become heavier, heavier, heavier. It was getting harder to breathe. I looked into Newt's eyes, my heartbeat slowing down in his arms.

"Emily?" he asked, his wide eyes darting across my face, noticing the changes. "Greenie, look at me. You're not going anywhere, got that?"

"Newt," I stuttered. My hand fell limp by my side, but Newt took it in his and entwined our fingers. "I—I love—"

The darkness I was plunged into was one of silence and unspoken truths.