So, we didn't escape apparently.
I still barely know what's going on, but I know more now:
W.I.C.K.E.D. is a real pain in the ass, walking through sand dunes should be considered a sport, and searching for a mysterious rebel group is like searchin...
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HAVE YOU EVER HAD that feeling—the one that burns beneath your ribcage and slithers like a python around your suffocating lungs—that just screams "something is wrong"?
An unsettling sensation. A troubling hunch. An anxious feeling that just ripples through your tight chest and just sits there waiting for that wrong thing to happen.
A bad feeling.
Well, I have that, and I don't know why.
At this point, I'm used to the stiff silence wafting through the silver halls, slipping around my engrossed figure and drowning me in its fragile but smothering shell. The artificial lights above drilled into my sensitive scalp as I studied the dull floor below, my blue eyes etched with thought.
Next to me stood a different soldier, leading me through the same lengthy hall Captain Sid walked me through ten minutes before.
I still don't know what to think of that guy.
Sid seems familiar but he doesn't at the same time. Not to mention, one second he's a big old grouch and the next he's helping me? I appreciate it but why? Because I was nice to him? Because I made conversation?
How am I out of the Maze and I still don't know what's going on? I thought, annoyed with my scrambled mind.
Plus, I don't even know where to begin with how strange Janson and our conversation was.
There's just a strange energy Janson carries that fills the room like a toxic gas. His beady eyes never display the emotions he paints on and it constantly seems like he knows more than anyone else in the room. I just can't tell if that's an ego thing or something entirely different.
My white shoes scuffed the concrete as I held back a frustrated sigh.
I need to talk to Thomas.
Concentrating on our mindlink, I could feel the faint hum of him. It was like the silence over a phone call—each of us immersed in our own world and our own problems while the other was still there, just a simple thought away.
It's nice actually, knowing that I'm not completely alone even when I am.
T? I thought, my weak voice thrumming across our connection and vibrating to the frequency of our inner mindlink.
For a beat, my mind sat in anxious silence.
Hey, Thomas's voice fled my thoughts. How'd it go?
I held back a small smile as I slowly began to ease, my brother's voice and his presence calming my riddled form and anxious mind like spring thawing winter. Thomas was my comfort person—he made me feel at home.
