LIBERATION | A Thomas Love Story

8 - Frustration and Preparation

Joan sat still and patient as the Medjack checked her wound, her mind occupied.

Today, Peter was going to be banished. Joan felt anger, sadness, guilt, and confusion.

She didn't know exactly how she should feel. Her internal frustration caused her to become short with others.

"Ah! watch it!" She snapped at the poor Medjack, who had accidentally applied too much pressure to her wound.

The boy nodded sheepishly as he eased up on the wound. Joan huffed and looked down at her hands.

Once finished, she got up and went outside, her right arm holding her left against her side. She began making her way to a group of Gladers that had formed in front of the maze doors.

Her chest felt pained as she saw Minho dragging Peter out from his cell. The boy looked worse, his blonde hair matted and dirty, his face bruised and his clothes ragged.

Minho had a stern look on his face, but Joan knew deep down he was upset. After all, Peter was his running partner.

But Minho knew Peter was dangerous, and he almost killed Joan. He had to go.

Once Minho dragged Peter to the crowd, the leaders, or "Keepers" of each job grabbed a large wooden pole.

Joan watched as Peter looked back at her once more, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of hurt on his face.

But soon, it changed to anger and hatred.

"You don't understand! She did this to us!" He yelled, his body beginning to tremble.

The Keepers kept their heads down and ignored his words, but the rest of the Gladers eyed Joan.

Her jaw clenched and her eyes turned cold as stone, her fists clenching.

Joan watched as the Keepers began to push Peter into the maze, him continuing to accuse Joan.

"She's a monster! She took our memories! I saw her with them!"

Finally, he was within the maze borders, and he shakily stood up and looked back at the Glade.

He breathed heavily, and as the doors began to close, his angry eyes bore into Joan, and she stared back.

She held her position, proving that she wasn't affected by his words, or at least not showing it.

And then, the doors met and he was out of sight.

Joan stood for a moment, catching her breathe and recollecting her thoughts before retreating to her room.

Once she was inside, she sat down on her bed. She gazed out her window toward her garden, and she felt a sick feeling in her stomach.

She couldn't go back to that place. The memory of the attack was still fresh in her mind, and the thought of stepping back into that corner of the Glade made her feel ill.

Suddenly, she threw her pillow against the wall in frustration, her fists clenching. The one place she felt peace was ruined. The one person she cared about the most had been taken from her. Peter. They had so many good memories. But now, he tried to kill her, and now, he's gone.

And she knew the Gladers saw her differently. She saw the way they looked at her after Peter exclaimed his accusations.

She had actually felt welcomed and accepted in this place, but now she felt like an outsider once again.

She let out an angry yell as she kicked the wall, her steel toe boot buffering the blow on her foot. Her jaw clenched tightly, and then the tears came. She hated tears. They made her feel weak, small.

She quickly wiped them away, but they continued to flow to her frustration.

She cursed as she sat on her bed, not knowing what to do, her heart hurting while her mind was angry. She cradled her head in her hands, her thin fingers lacing into her hair as she trembled.

Finally, she curled up on her cot and squeezed her eyes shut, eventually succombing to slumber.

"Joan.." said a voice, a familiar one.

It was the boy. The boy she had seen before, the one with chocolate brown hair and eyes, his voice gentle.

She was lying on her stomach in a large vent, him laying across from her with a grate between them, light from the room below casting in.

"We can't let this go on.." he whispered.

Joan tried looking down into the grate to see what he meant, and the scene made her shiver.

Bodies were laying on cots, IV's hooked into their arms while men and women in lab coats studied them.

However, just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone, and Joan felt her body fall backwards and her face sting.

She was in a different room, her vision blurred as she looked up at a man, the palm of his hand red from a slap. All she could tell from her blurred sight was that the man had gray hair, and wore dark clothes.

Joan held her face and her head snapped to the side, where she saw a mirror.

She was young, her red hair in a ponytail, her cheeks fuller and rosier, one having a harsh red handprint.

"Brat!" Yelled the man, but suddenly she woke up, her body sweating and moonlight streaming in through her window.

She instinctively felt her cheek, but the sting was gone. Joan shook her head before getting up and walking to a wash basin in the homestead. There, she moistened a cloth and wiped the sweat off her face and neck. She tried to shake the dream away, but it lingered in her head. Finally, after staring at the wash basin for a few minutes, she mustered the will to go back to bed.

***

Thomas paced in his room.
He was forming a plan.

He needed to get into the maze. He needed to help his friends.

He was done with being stuck behind the screens. If only he could get into the maze with his memories intact.

He remembered the day Joan was taken. They had both been transferring data to the Right Arm, a resistance group against WCKD.

But she took the blame. And she got sent into the maze.

Thomas still felt the guilt. If only he had done something different.

Then again, Joan had a gun pointed to his head.

But she would never shoot him.

The young man rubbed his face in frustration. He needed to act out.

Couldn't he just sneak into the box that led up to the maze?

He shook his head.

They'll get me out. I need to be placed inside with them wanting me there

"Tom?" Teresa chimed in.

Thomas huffed and went silent.

"You're not..planning to go in there are you?" She asked.

Thomas shook his head and paused before replying.

"I need to, Teresa."

She went silent, which worried Thomas.

But he needed to carry on.

He had his plan.

And he would execute it tomorrow.