𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦, thomas (tmr)

Chapter Sixteen

"The Creators?"

"That's what we call the people who made all this and put us in here. Slintheads." Clara murmured the last word spitefully under her breath, but Thomas easily picked up on it and the look of resentment on her face.

He definitely didn't envy the Creators right now.

Waving her hands over the fields where Newt and Zart were working away, she stopped to admire the plants growing and flowers blooming inside. For kids who really had no clue how to grow things, they did pretty well.

"Here's the Gardens, where the Track-hoes and Gardeners work, growing food."

She then pointed to the barn in the corner, saying, " The Bloodhouse, where the Slicers work, doing- well you know what they do to the animals."

Thomas was nodding along every so often, making Clara smile to herself at the cute signs of reassuring from him. She wandered over towards the Deadheads, nodding to the dark trees looming over the bright patch of grass.

"The Deadheads is just our forest, there's some berries, a stream, uh- our graveyard's back there, but I don't think you'd wanna go visit that."

She shifted awkwardly, scolding herself for making it awkward. Thomas didn't seem bothered by it, still watching her intently like he was hanging on to every word.

"The Homestead's got our Council room, our kitchens, beds for a few of us - sorry to say it, but first come first served."

"You've been here since the start?"

She nodded to confirm, the feeling of nostalgia beginning to kick in as she remembered it. She couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if Thomas was there then.

"Yep. It was a big group of us. Barely anything was here. There was only one room on the Homestead."

He hummed thoughtfully, wondering the same thing that the girl had been.

"And this is the Maze."

Clara stopped abruptly outside the Maze walls, causing Thomas to actually bump into her. He mumbled an apology, but his attention had been captured by the grey ivy-clad stone in front of him.

"You don't go out there because one: there's Grievers that'll Sting or kill you in an instant. And two: that's the Runners jobs, and Minho will kill you if a Griever doesn't. And if Minho doesn't, Alby will."

"What if I wanna be a Runner?" He asked, almost unintentionally, clearly still mesmerised by the Maze.

"A Runner?" Clara felt herself laughing nervously, her stomach twisting. "Listen, Thomas, I know what it's like out there - and being a Runner - and you don't wanna do that. Trust me."

"You were a Runner?"

The girl couldn't help bit feel a little taken aback at his shocked tone. His widened eyes told her that he didn't mean to sound like that, but she didn't address it, only replying dryly.

"Yeah, I was. Only for a little while."

"Why'd you stop?"

Man, this boy has a lot of questions.

Despite her feelings of the boy being different to other Greenies, she didn't want to explain her injury to him; not yet, at least. There was a sinking feeling deep down that told her he'd pity her, and that's the last thing she needed.

"I just- I just did. It was getting too much."

He nodded but it was clear he wasn't convinced by her lie. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling uneasy at the fact he could read her so well already. But oddly, she didn't hate it. Glancing behind him, at the Gardens where she was supposed to send Thomas off, she hesitated.