Only Girl. - TMR

Chapter Nine

The next few days passed without trouble. They were even kind of enjoyable. Newt and I weren’t as hostile but exchanged few words and generally avoided each others company. I was distant but not isolated. My job as a Med-jack was demanding but I was capable. I really didn’t see how I could do any other job without being completely useless. 

The fourth day of my second week at the Glade, began like any other. I woke up late. There was no set time to be up in the Glade, but it was frowned upon to get up later than what Thomas told me was around eight - by the position of the sun. Due to this, I was often the last one up. This was no different today. I woke up with the sun shining in my eyes and my mattress askew. I had obviously thrashed around in my sleep.

I was at my job in two minutes flat, my bed-head sticking out at all angles. Clint barely glanced up at me. ‘Sorry, I overslept,’ I mumbled, rubbing sleep from my eyes. ‘It’s fine - hand me that, would you?’ he motioned to some antiseptic on the floor. 

The day passed without issue. I fixed up petty injures but nothing more - until around midday when he heard a commotion going on outside in the Glade. There was shouting. One shout could be heard above all the rest - it sounded animal-like and manic. 

‘What’s going on out there?’ Clint peered out the window and through the rain, we could make out a large crowd standing around someone on the ground - they looked hurt. I could see someone else struggling madly on the ground, writhing in the mud with three or four Gladers pinning him to the ground.

‘Looks like someones hurt,’ said Clint. 

‘Or two people.’ I whispered, concern growing inside me. 

‘Quick, lets get this place ready!’ 

I got out gauze, sedatives and something that the other Gladers called ‘the Cure.’

 Thomas had explained it to me once.

It was apparently very important and was used when somebody was stung by a ‘Griever.’ And after that you would go through something called the ‘Changing.’ 

Those sentences meant almost nothing to me, but from the way it sounded, I certainly didn’t want to have to use the Cure anytime soon. The door burst open and what seemed like a crowd of Gladers carried in a boy. I craned my neck to see who it was and then wished I’d never seen him. 

It was Newt.

He was soaking wet from the rain, his hair was mattered with blood and there was what looked like a stab wound in his stomach. His face and arms were bruised and bloody. ‘Oh my -‘ I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand to stop myself from screaming or vomiting - I wasn’t sure. 

‘Ben got stung, he went crazing and attacked Newt. Only pulled got to him just before Ben killed him,’ a Glader explained. Ben was a Runner. He seemed nice enough. I’d spoken to him a few times and seen him out with Thomas and Minho. ‘Where’s Ben now?’ I asked.

‘They took him to the Slammer. He’s too far gone to give him the Cure. We’re gonna banish him tomorrow.’ 

Banish?

I turned my attention back to Newt. The rain had left his face streaked with blood that flowed freely onto his shirt. I edged it up his toned, flat stomach to take a look at the stab wound. 

Thankfully it wasn’t too deep - but he was loosing blood fast. I started wiping the blood away from his stomach while the other Med-jacks addressed the other wounds on his body and ushered out all the waiting Gladers. 

Sometime during the process of cleaning away the blood, Newt regained consciousness. He lifted his head up to see what I was doing. I pushed him back down. ‘Stay,’ I said firmly.