World Gone Mad (TMR fic 3)

Chapter 32

Time loses meaning. There is no past and no future, just a now, a present I must take full advantage of. At one point I fall asleep tangled with Newt, but he's gone when I wake up.

Where is he?

My answer comes in the form of a distant yell, a sound of frustration. Something slams from the other side of the Berg and I flinch unintentionally. I've faced worse, but it's a particularly unpleasant torture to watch the gentlest person I know lose his grasp on reality.

I try to stay calm, but panic is gnawing at my nerves.

It's not safe.

Nothing is safe.

I need to hide.

My heart is pounding. I crawl into the kitchen. Safety. Hide. A cupboard. Hide... from the Cranks... don't let them find me... even if they kill... my family...

I pull all of the pots and pans out of a cupboard in the kitchen, breaking the single shelf off to give me more room. Thankfully all of the cupboards are connected inside, and I managed to crawl into the dark space and let the door close behind me.

Safe... safe...

I wonder where Sherlock is.

Maybe the Cranks have eaten him.

I can hear my mother screaming at me.

"Stay there, Payton. Stay there, don't let them find you."

I press my face to my knees and hold my breath to stifle my sobs. I will hide. I will wait in the darkness until danger is gone, until peace returns to the world.

"Don't move, Payton!"

I stay still.

They won't know I'm here if they don't-

The cupboard door starts to open. I shriek and flinch away with my whole body, slamming my head into the back of the cupboard.

"Ash?"

I inhale, my lungs burning with panic as my mind scrambles to attention. Ash. I'm Ash, a girl made of fire and steel. I'm on a Berg, and Newt is the only Crank here. And, judging by the panic in his eyes, he's no longer having an episode of madness.

Instead, he's terrified that there's something wrong with me. I'm the one hiding in a cupboard, after all.

I continue to gulp down air, pushing away the memories. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, clearly." His voice is concerned, not bitingly sarcastic. "What happened?"

I reach my arms out. Newt pulls me out of the cupboard and onto his lap, burying me against him.

"I... I guess there are some downsides to getting your memories back." Bitterness laces through the words. I hate WICKED. I hate Cranks. I hate everything in this world, because the only thing that hasn't hurt me is Newt, and he's bearing the careless punishment of fate.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"It's okay. Let's just... not talk about this anymore."

He nods, and presses his lips to my temple. After a soft kiss he helps me to my feet, stumbling as he stands. His balance is going... his sanity is next... I force the thoughts away and try to help him stay upright. He glares at me before catching himself and closing his eyes.

"I can't control it." His voice is heartbreaking. He hates watching this happen. So do I.

"Do you still see everything that happens?" I ask, not sure if I want to know.

"Yeah. I get to watch myself lose it and I can't stop myself." There are tears in his eyes, and he fiercely brushes them aside.

"Sounds awful."

"I guess everything these days is awful, isn't it?"

"I bet I can think of one thing that isn't," I tease, and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

"I'll bite," he says, and I grin, albeit tiredly.

"I found a bottle of wine in the cupboard."