Variant | Newt

1 | the first

Suddenly, Newt spoke up, surprising all of us. "Is she okay?"

Clint, after finding his voice, replied, "I...don't know. She's lost a lotta blood."

I tapped Minho's shoulder, nodding towards the door. He followed my lead as I lingered in the doorway. "Let me know when she wakes up. Don't loosen those restraints for anything."

Before Minho and I exited, I turned back one more time. "And don't you boys leave her outta your sight."

Jeff and Clint nodded, and I sent one last caring look towards Newt. He didn't meet my eyes - he was too focused on the girl.

NEWT

She was quite pretty.

Her damp hair cascading down the pillow, framing her pretty face. There was a cut over her left eyebrow, a line of blood running down her rosy cheek, covering some of the freckles that splashed across her skin, but the blood didn't take away from her natural beauty.

Clint and Jeff cared for her like their touch would break her apart, like a porcelain doll. It made sense, seeing that us boys hadn't seen a girl since... well, none of us can even remember.

Her breathing was quite shallow. Her right leg was covered in blood, and Clint and Jeff discussed how to take care of the injury.

"Stitch it up, I guess," Clint was saying. "We got any more alcohol?"

"Yeah, I got it," Jeff mumbled back. "What about the dehydration? You want to give her a baggie?"

Clint stopped, looking over the girl again. I watched his face scrunch up, showing he was clearly debating a decision regarding the 'baggies', aka clear packs of medicine - IVs - the Creators had sent to us with instructions on how to administer them. "I dunno...." Clint mumbled, "We're kinda short on supply. Should we waste it on her?"

"Waste?!"

Jeff and Clint nearly dropped their supplies at my outburst. I surprised myself, to be honest. I don't think I've raised my voice like that in weeks. Not since the—

Not since the incident.

Focus on the task at hand, Newt, I told myself. I glared at the med-jacks, my 'Second-In-Command' attitude shining through for a moment. "It's not a waste. Don't talk about her like she's livestock. The girl's a person. Help her."

Clint wordlessly grabbed a baggie, while Jeff mumbled an apology.

I settled back onto my cot, falling back into the same routine I had been stuck in for weeks, just staring at the ceiling, lost in ny own emotions. A heavy feeling in my chest, a sense of dread in my stomach. I hated this place and I had a chance to escape, but I messed it up. And I'm still stuck here.

Stop it, Newt. You've finally got something in here to distract you.

I looked towards the girl. Her breathing had become deeper. It seems the rest she was receiving was the best medicine.

Jeff dumped a splash of water onto a cloth and began to clean the wound on the girl's leg. Clint was prepping the baggie, and before I knew it, the skilled med-jack had administered it to her. I watched them in silence as they worked together. Jeff continued cleaning and stitching the thigh gash, while Clint moved on to clean and stitch the cuts on her face; the one above her brow, the other on her jawline. It wasn't long until they finished their work, finalizing the job with a clean bandage wrapped around her leg.

"You think she was stung?" Clint asked, grimacing.

I held my breath as I listened to them discuss.