❝ Remembrance blooms from her fingertips.❞
Subject A0; The Primary Subject
Subject A5; The Glue
The Keeper of the Runners is alarmed when he finds a ball of white huddled in a crook in the Maze's corridors. A girl who is rotted with bruises and soak...
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"Hiya, sweetheart." A man entered the clean, sterile room. It was just us, accommodated with various surgical instruments; chrome scalpels, sharp forceps, vascular clips. I didn't look to him when he entered, my eyes remained trained blankly on the tray. It was in the back of my head they were going to be used on me once again. "You gonna ignore me?"
I didn't respond. He let out a dejected sigh, coming up to stand in front of me. I sat on the stainless steel table in a plain white t-shirt with nothing but scratchy spandex underneath. These clothes were familiar material to me.
"I thought you would be happy to be seeing your little teapot." He smiled to brush off the tension in the room.
"Not if I'm going to forget him..." Usually, I could only hear the accent of my voice. However this time, I felt it. I felt the vibration of my chords shiver against the apple of my throat. It tickled slightly, causing me to scratch my skin.
"Don't get all Romeo and Juliet on me," It bothered me I couldn't see his face. It was smudged like an oil pastel painting. "I know you're a poem freak but it makes me want to puke."
He grabbed the tray, the one armored with tools, and threw it in the trash bin next to the door. A soft smile pulled at my lips.
"Look at the bright side. No more deprivation tank." That was a plus. No more water throttling every cell in my body. I could feel myself being relieved of that idea. "No more rat man. That guy's a dick." He stepped closer, a foot distance to where I could smell the aroma of old liquor.
"You've been drinking again," I whispered in a scorn. He smirked, smacking his lips together in disproval at my comment.
"You have your way of meditating, I have mine."
"Mine's healthier."
"No one asked, Frenchie." I let out a soft huff as he circled to the left side of the table, rolling out an oxygen tank that was filled with anything but oxygen. My past-self knew what it was, but clueless me now didn't. It was like my mind was in a tug-o-war with itself of being conscious or not. The blonde man faltered when he saw my scared petrified expression.
"Is it going to hurt..." I muttered out. He paused, straightening his back.
"It's nothing you can't handle." He told truthfully.
An oxygen mask as provided on the side of the tank, hooked up to two tubes that flowed the contents into the nose. I didn't strain against him when he slipped the elastic to the back of my head, pressing the mask against my cheeks to seal in the gases. It smelled of tart lodoform and sour chemicals. The sharp vile smell that would make you want to gag as a reflex.
I felt in my skin I trusted this man. It made me wonder who he was, and who he meant to me.
"You remember the plan." It wasn't a question. It was a confident notation. "Markdown where the exit is before the anesthesia sets in. That's all you got to do. Thomas will take care of the rest."
"Will you be here." My voice was so soft and articulate. It was a kind of voice you wouldn't imagine could raise her voice.
"Don't be greedy now," He warned. "You get to lover boy. Poor kids probably dying without you." He was sarcastic, his personality was lathered in it.
"Je vous remercie," I thanked him, coming out muffled from the mask. He smiled, patting down the right side of my hair.
"Remember, Wicked is good my ass."
The clouds of gas pumping from the mask began to take its toll. It fogged up my brain, following with my eyesight too.
_
"Prim, I'm so sorry."
The scene suddenly changed. I wasn't in the surgical room with the man anymore. I was with Newt in some kind of neoteric dorm. I wasn't able to get a clear view of my surroundings, but I was able to see from the corner of my eye a busted out air vent below the bed. It came clear to me Newt had snuck in from there, and he wasn't supposed to be here.
"What are you doing here?" With my panic, my accent became thicker, almost impossible to decipher my words from the muddled question.
"I had to see you. I had to see you one more time." He rushed out, grabbing my jaw and pulling me into a firm kiss. I froze, letting myself melt into him for a brief moment before I pushed him back.
"What do you mean- I don't understand!"
"I'm next! They're sending me up next into the Maze." I felt my heart drop as a prodigious batter rammed at the entrance door. They were here. He grabbed my arms, pushing us into a corner behind the ladder of the bunk beds.
"Listen to me. I know I've already told you this but I need you to know...I need you to understand..." He paused, his morning eyes shifting between mine. If he leaned in any closer, he would be able to meet my lips again.
"I'm in love with you."
Like hearing the words for the first time, it was a blow to the chest. Not a painful one, but an agonizingly blithe one.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could the door had broken down. Men in full gear filed into the room, seizing Newt's arms and pinning them behind my back. My eyes widened as I took a step forward, only to be shoved back by one of the men.
"Don't you dare forget me!" Newt begged as he struggled against their arms. He wasn't going to leave without a fight. I knew, if he had too, he would make sure he was drug by his bleeding broken ankles just to spend another second here. "Try to remember me! TRY!"
I was such in a pacified state of timid horror, I couldn't move, nor speak a word.
"Don't forget me!"
That was as his last scream before they shut the iron belt door.
I felt deplorable, crumbled to the ground as my bones morphed brittle. I didn't say it. I didn't return the same words he told me; even though I felt the same way.
_
"You have a crush on him, right?"
"I don't know."
Anyone could recognize the flurry giggles of teenage girls talking about there crushes. It was a banality many would stereotype of two best friends. I was with Teresa in the same dorm, however this time the atmosphere was raptured in a nirvana I had never felt before. It was calm, for once, without a single worry.
"I'm sure Newt likes you too. He never takes his eyes off you."
"Yeah, well what about you and Thomas then? You turn red every time you talk to him." Her face went pomegranate red, contrasting to her aquatic blue pools.
"At least we can hold a conversation." She fired back with a sly smile. "Imagine your future kid's accents from having a British father and a French mother-"
"Teresa!" I squealed, my body burning. I grabbed a nearby capsule of feathers, throwing it into the side of her head.
It started an all-out war of not a pillow fight, but who could smother the other first and come out on top. Teresa and I were violent when it came to plunders of our embarrassment about the boys we fancied.
So I was normal at one point. I was blissfully happy at one point. I wasn't just a subject before, I was a girl just like any other. I was...well...a person. Just a person.
