Tired of Running

85|| sticks and stones

// i'm hanging in there,
don't you see? in this
process of elimination \\

~~

Newt was grinning, throwing more sticks into the fire. Harper set her head on her hand, watching the fire almost in a trance. Some of the boys had sword fights with sticks, others would wrestle- the ones not in the first two categories were stuffing their faces. Harper looked at Winston in disgust, following the meat he was eating with her eyes. "If we didn't like you so much, we wouldn't go out of our way for vegetables and meatless meals." Harper scrunched her nose up, "Well. Newt would disagree!" Winston laughed, "Well that would be because you are his favorite. Queen of the Glade, according to him." Harper couldn't help but blush, "You should tell me more about what Newt has to say about me..." Winston smirked, "Oh I think he should tell you himself." Harper hummed, holding her hand out, "Dance with me." Winston rolled his eyes, "I'm not a dancer, Harp." She never budged; pulling him to his feet and dragging him towards the fire. "Now I really think Newt would be a better partner–" "Well he isn't here, is he?"

"Excuse me," Minho shoved Winston out of the way, pulling Harper against him. Minho was a terrible dancer. But he was a terrible dancer who danced badly, with pride. His dance moves would get her laughing every time, without fail. Minho grinned, his biggest priority to keep her laughing. No one would ever comment on Minho's dancing, knowing they would get the klunk beat out of them– by Harper. Minho couldn't care less. Harper sat back down on the log, downing the rest of the raspberry tea she made. "Hey," Newt stole the glass from her, "Finally, something to drink that isn't poison!" This would always get him a glare from Gally. Harper scooted over, leaving room for Newt, but he didn't sit. He pulled a small, slightly pathetic bouquet of flowery weeds from behind his back. "It's about time!" Winston whistled, while Minho started clapping. Newt flushed to an impressive shade of scarlet, even in the dim firelight, it was obvious. Harper beamed, wrapping her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his messy hair.

~~~~

       Harper groaned, feeling the dream slip sway from her as consciousness pulled her back, "Good, you're awake."  Jansen was smiling darkly, "Let's see what goes on in those brains of yours..."  Harper couldn't breathe.  Minho had woken up, eyes wide, "Harper-"  He stopped fighting his restraints, "I'll do it—"  Jansen beamed, and that was the scariest part of it all, "We don't need you anymore. Let's get her prepped." "No- NO- Wait." Harper fought against the restraints that kept her on the bed. Jansen grabbed her by the hair, dragging her head back to the pillow, "I am so tired of you brats..." He spat, his eyes burning, "Let's get this over with- I will do the procedure myself- I'm going to die anyway-" His eyes were mad- his rolled up sleeve revealed the familiar ticking time bomb of blue veins.  "You—"  Jansen pulled out a vial, injecting the syringe into it. Minho was yelling, fighting his restraints so hard his bed was moving, "Johnson-" Jansen spoke calmly, "Get the boy out of here- We don't need him anymore." Johnson, a giant oaf that didn't seem to have a single braincell stuttered, "And um, what will I be doing with him?" Jansen smiled as madness crossed his eyes, "Kill him. Just like I killed Ava Paige." Harper was about to scream, just as an alarm began to blare; red lights flashing.  "Now what! This can't wait!"

    Several guards burst through the door, looking panicked, "They're here-" the front one gasped, "It's him-  Thomas is here."