Cliche Is Not My Forte

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

[Trigger warning- Panic attack]


ADELAIDE

I stare at the ceiling, lying on the mattress on my back, my hands folded on my stomach. All kinds of thoughts are rushing through my head, making it harder for me to keep a track through them.

It was almost bedtime. Most of the Gladers had retired for an early bedtime. Thomas is in the Slammer, probably shivering his royal ass off. I and Chuck had gone to accompany him a little while ago, and he was royally pissed with Gally. It's hard for him not to. Gally had been constantly attacking him since he had stepped into the Glade for a reason no one knows.

I am listing about all the things that had happened today.

I woke up from a three day coma.

Newt said that he liked me very very much.

They found the digital cylinder type thing from the Griever.

Newt said that he liked me very very much.

Thomas was made a Runner.

Newt said that he liked me very very much.

A girl came up, in coma.

Newt said that he liked me very very much.

I kicked Minho's manhood for placing a bet on me and Newt.

Newt said that he liked me very very much.

My whole body heats up involuntarily as I feel his soft touches on my body. My cheeks, my waist, the small of my back, my shoulders, my chin, my forehead and my lips. I touch my lips, smiling idiotically, remembering his soft lips on mine.

Was I correct in kissing him though?

I remember all the things that I've seen in my memories. About being tortured, the one with Thomas, the one with Newt, the one with my dad and my mom, the ones with that doctor.

My throat dries up.

He had said me being a killer. An assassin. A monster. I remember killing all those people, with no reason visible to me. I remember those vigorous training. I remember those blood on my hands, the pain. The blood. The weapons.

I am breathing erratically now. I put my trembling hands on my pounding heart. My body feels sweaty. It feels like all the air from my lungs is being sucked out, slowly.

I'm a killer.

I killed innocents.

I heave myself up, my whole body disoriented. The pressure on my chest is increasing, as if someone is squeezing my lungs.

Whirlwind | The Maze Runner- NewtDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora