Afflicted↠ Newt [1]

Chapter 10

I was shaken awake. I groaned, rubbing my eyes as Minho's obnoxious voice filled my ears.
"Emily!"
I hadn't even opened the eyes yet, but I knew that it was way too early to be awake. For me, at least.
"What?" I dragged out the word. Rolling over so that my back was facing Minho, I buried my head in my pillow.
"You start training today." Newt's voice said from beside Minho, which only made me groan again.
"Let me sleep."
"Sorry, Newbie. Can't happen," Minho's voice lacked sympathy, despite his apology.
"Yes, it can," I argued. "Tell Nick I'm sick or something."
"Emily, if you don't get out of bed in the next thirty seconds, I'm gonna drag you out," said Minho.
"I'd like to see you try," I retorted.
I couldn't see Minho, but I knew his arms were probably crosssed, rolling his eyes, "Try me, Newbie."
I turned around to look at them, my eyes still heavy with sleep, "I refuse to leave this bed."
Minho and Newt exchanged a look, their eye brows raised, their lips pulled into identical smirks.
My eyes widened as I realized what must've been going on through their minds, "Don't even think about it-"
But it was too late. Newt ran over and jumped on to my bed, squishing me underneath him. Minho followed closely behind, though he tripped as he jumped, landing on the floor beside the bed, laughing hysterically. I squirmed under Newt's weight as he buried his head into the crook of my neck. His breath tickling me, I struggled to get him off. The bed creaked under our weight, which only made Minho laugh harder.
"If someone were too walk in right now..."
He didn't even have to finish the sentence for me to understand. I groaned, rolling my eyes, and pushed on Newt's chest. Newt laughed, his breath hitting the skin on my neck, causing goosebumps to form on my skin.
"If you break this bed, Newt," I grumbled.
"At least you're awake now," Minho shrugged, standing up and taking a seat on the edge of my bed. The bed creaked under all of our weight, and I was sure it would break any second.
"You know, she's right," Newt spoke from his postition on top of me, looking as if he had no intention on moving. "This bed really is comfortable."
"That's probably because you're laying on top of me. Which, might I add, is making it difficult to breath," I pointed out.
"We should join the others, or else Alby'll think we're up to something. Especially with all the screaming," Minho's face suddenly began serious, only to have his lips pulled into a smirk once again. Newt groaned, and I looked at him, my eyebrows ceased.
"I'm not saying it's uncomfortable or anything, but would you mind taking your hand off of my uhh..." Newt trailed off, his voice muffled by my neck. I looked down to see where my hand was, immediately feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Newt," I couldn't help the nervous laugh that escaped my lips as I quickly moved my hand. Minho rolled his eyes and grabbed Newt by the shoulders, rolling him off of me and on to the floor with a thud.
"Bloody hell, Minho." Newt's eyes were closed, his eyebrows ceased as he rubbed his back.
"Sorry, man." Minho shrugged it off with a grin. "Should've gotten up."

+

"Good luck today," Newt said to me as he led me towards the Bloodhouse. "You're gonna need it."
Today, I was working with the Slicers. Lucky me. I wasn't looking forward to the job one bit. It wasn't that I didn't like blood, it was just the thought of slaughtering animals that bothered me. I've heard the sounds of pigs squealing coming from the building, and the noise caused shivers to run up my spine.
The Keeper of the Slicers was a tall boy named Winston. He had dark hair and an acne-covered face. To me, he seemed to enjoy his job of slaughtering animals a little too much, which gave me the shivers.
"Are you bothered by blood?" He asked me as he cleaned off a bloody butcher's knife.
I shrugged, "No. But I am bothered by slaughtering animals."
The Keeper turned to look at me, "Then I won't force you to do anything of that sort. I'll let you tend to the animals."
The Bloodhouse was a wooden shack, smaller than the Homestead, which was mixed with the coppery smell of blood and animals. I pursed my lips as I stared around the large, open room. On one wall, there were about a dozen metal hooks hanging from the ceiling, each covered with a dry stain of blood. On one of the hooks, however, a pig hung, blood dripping from a fresh wound in its throat. It eyes were open, still shining with a faint sign of life. I forced myself to keep walking, following Winston towards the farm area.
The sounds of animals- alive and not being slaughtered- filled my ears, and I immediately felt myself relax. The smell of farm was almost overwhelming, though it was better than the smell of blood and guts inside the building. I'd take caring for the animals over killing them anyday.
"I doubt you're the one to be a Slicer," Winston said to me as he led me towards the cow pen. "You don't seem the type."
"Yeah, I don't think this is the right job for me," I agreed.
"You still have to train, though." Winston shrugged.
I spent the rest of my time as a Slicer caring for the animals. Feeding them, cleaning their pens. Though I couldn't ignore the sound of a pig or cow squealing as a Slicer took it's life away. By the time lunch came around, I was thankful to get away from the place, hopefully to never come back.