CH. ONE
┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛
Cold beads of sweat are still dripping down her forehead, even though it's been minutes since she got out of the cold water. Wait— so is it the water drops running down her skin? No, it must be sweat, according to the clammy, numbing chills swarming through this... whatever it is.
Let's say it unlocks some claustrophobia she didn't know she had.
And when, three minutes ago, she had that thought, she realized she doesn't know anything about herself.
She remembers having friends but their faces are blurred. There's voices in vague memories but they're unclear and blurry. But besides all of that, she does know everything else. She knows what animals are, kinds of animals, babies, trees, languages... everything that doesn't involve her personal life.
Now that's the problem. If perhaps she literally knew nothing, then maybe she would've thought this is just the way people are born. In a small kind of elevator. But nope, she's well aware she's born from people she can't even remember.
Her hands start searching around the place. Feeling for anything she could use to break the walls and escape. By now, it's been too long since the elevator stopped moving up, and it's sickening to just sit and do nothing.
Who knows what danger she might be in? Is this some kind of jail? Where she's supposed to starve and die?
No, there's seeds and ingredients in a box next to her.
Maybe she got stuck in an elevator. Hit her head and forgot everything. Eventually, someone must realize, come, and let the elevator go back down, right?
She doesn't find anything useful. The covered box all the way in the corner catches her eye, but the walls of this thing scare her and she refuses to move closer to them.
They have little holes in them. It's see through, but everything on the outside of this thing is dark. She's afraid that if she gets one finger outside of this place, it's gonna get bitten off or something.
So she stays in the middle of it, and waits as she tries to remember anything. Her name? Did someone ever give her one?
Once she finds out she really can't remember, she starts making up more theories to where she's going, or why she would be locked up here.
❀
It feels like it has been hours. Her overthinking mixing with the slight fear of these walls locking her in, by now has caused an unsteady breathing pattern. Parts of her hair are slipping away from the ponytail, leaving the strands all sticky on her forehead.
But then, there's finally a movement. A shake of the elevator, then a click, and it starts moving.
Not down, unfortunately. It's going up. And the tempo of it also starts going up, and soon she is forced to take ahold of the walls. Otherwise, she would've fallen over.
She's not going to scream, though. After all those minutes, there really is no one close to help her. Maybe she's just reaching the top of a building or— thud.
Should've held on tighter.
She tries catching herself, but there's another shake of the elevator and all she manages is to press all her weight on her left wrist, which lands right on the corner, a sharp part, of a box.
You can imagine that didn't feel awesome.
A wince is all her lips allow her to let out, afraid it would betray her or something, and then she presses a hand to her mouth to keep herself from making more noises.
Imagine it's a normal elevator and she just remembers it wrong, and she'll soon arrive at the top, meaning all those people there heard her screams.
That'd be awkward.
But so far, it just seems like she's gonna bang against the metal wall that's slowly coming closer, and either be stuck here forever, or die because of the hit.
What if I just jump at the last seco— her thoughts enter too late: the elevator stops. With the speed it was going up, this sends a loud bang through the air, which vibrates all the way into her bones, and she falls to the ground another time, this time only scraping some skin off her elbow.
The red lights above her switch to green. There's a click, and another light so bright that she's forced to squeeze her eyes shut enters the elevator.
Slowly, voices start to get louder. The smell of something like a farm makes its way into her nose. It doesn't take long for her to realize she's been revealed to daylight.
"Open it up, man!"
"Watcha seein', Newt?"
"Bet he klunked his pants!"
"I ain't takin' any more bets with ya, Mike."
"No way back now, Greenie!"
"He as ugly as Hank?"
He? She's pretty sure she's a she. Did she forget to shave?
Whatever, it's not really something she's worried about right now. Because once more comments are thrown, she understands that not one of them is female.
She flinches. The elevator shakes when someone jumps in, groaning as they do so, and she moves to the corner, suddenly more afraid of these humans than whatever might be against the walls.
"Ya alright?" Just by those words, she can tell the boy, since he sounds pretty young, is a Brit. "Would you Shanks shut up?!" He then yells. It's meant for the people above them. "Trynna have a word with the Greenie here!"
"What does he look like?"
"Like Hank?"
"Shut up, Doug!"
"Eh, he's got long hair," the Brit tells them. "But just shut your bloody mouths!"
Am I a he? I still don't think so. I really don't want to be a he.
She has averted her face away from the boy, so he can't see. If this is all males, and I've got nothing but a hurting wrist...?
Then she feels a hand on her knee. She has kicked the boy away so fast that she surprises both of them with it. He lets out a yelp, she lets out a yelp, and then their eyes meet, and they both let out a yelp again.
And he yelps to the world above them: "It's a bloody girl!"
She shrinks. Did he have to do that?
"What?"
"You kiddin'?"
"Funny, Newt."
Their quiet murmurs are the only thing hearable for a while, until the Brit repeats his words, telling them it's the truth.
"No way!"
"What does she look like?"
"Did they sent us a hot one?"
"I call dibs!"
"Whoever lies hands on her first, will—"
"SHUT IT!" There's a yell, coming from a way deeper voice than the Brit. The crowd falls silent and so does she, waiting in tension. But she I can really think about is their words.
I call dibs. Did they sent us a hot one? Whoever lies hands on her first, will...? Will what?
It can't really just be males, right? Because that'd be hell. Especially with these comments.
Whoever sent her here, must've really hated her.
"Hi." The Brit has recovered from his shock and now gives the pale girl a smile. He holds out his hand for her to shake, which she takes with some hesitation. "My name's Newt," he says. "Do you remember yours yet?"
Yet. Meaning, she'll remember it eventually.
She shakes her head. Not to seem weak, but the thought of only males surrounding her and there maybe being no escape, gives her the shivers. Genuinely, it frightens her and makes her want to bury herself alive.
"Don't mind them," Newt continues, waving at the shadows above them. "They're really only showing off, and I assure nothin' will happen as long as my friend and I have the lead here, yeah?"
She doesn't know how to reply, so she doesn't reply at all.
"Wanna get out of here now?" He holds out his hand another time. "The Box is an uncomfortable shucker. You've been in there long enough."
But she shakes her head again.
"It won't go back down with you in it, trust me." He gives her a smile, the brown eyes lighting up just when a breeze makes the longer strands of his hair fly up, the blondness of it reflecting against the sun. "You can trust me."
Another shake of her head. She points at the laughing and murmuring crowd above them. "They leave," she says. It's the first time hearing her own voice, and it sounds strange. Female for sure, though.
"I can make that happen." Newt gets up. He cups his hands around his mouth. "Hey, you bloody lot! Either leave or go to bed without ya dinner, you poor babies! Side note, Fry got stew planned!"
All she can do is watch more light be revealed as the shadows one by one disappear, until there's just one left standing.
"Don't worry. That's our leader. My friend, Alby. He's trustworthy." Newt helps her up. "Rope, Alby!"
She betrays herself at taking a step back at those words. It doesn't take long for her mind to ease: the rope will be used to climb out of this thing.
"You or I go first?" Newt wonders. "Perhaps stand on my hands. I've done it plenty of times to do it with the rope."
She nods. One of the combat boots on Newt's hand, the other one against the wall as she starts climbing up against it, all the way until she feels soft grass.
Newt didn't lie when he said he had done it before. He goes up smoothly and arrives next to her in just a second, still smiling lightly though there's a hint of suspiciousness in her eyes.
As he starts speaking to a boy she hasn't bothered to pay attention to for even a second, she spins around the place.
Four giant stone walls surrounding her. If that elevator was bad, this is even worse. Somehow, it makes her feel more locked up. There's grass, little huts, boys walking around, animals, and plants... but that's the problem.
It's boys. Just boys. Not a single girl. Or do they keep the other girl somewhere? Do they take advantage of them? Is she the first one? What's even going to happen?
"She arrived late," she hears once her senses have made their return. There's not much she can do without information about this ridiculous location. "I'll do The Tour tomorrow."
"Alright," the Brit says. "Want me to take care of the rest?"
Taking her eyes off the staring boys in the distance is hard, because she wants to hold their gaze until they look away, but she forces herself to peel her eyes off them and get them to the two boys closest.
Newt and... Alby? A dark-skinned, bald boy who must be nineteen or something. Broad and tall, but not taller than Newt, who's rather slim and has more of a babyface. Also a kinder face, because Alby is giving her some pointed glares.
"Get her some food, a safe place to sleep, and make sure not one hand gets lied on her unless it's you."
An automatic step back. "Why is he an exception?" It almost comes out shakily. "Why not just agree to no one touching me?"
"That's fine too," Alby says, to her surprise. "Newt, you got it." He gives the boy a pat on his shoulder. "I'll give 'em Shanks a warnin' that if they touch the girl, I'll feed 'em dirty hands to the Grievers."
Newt nods in agreement. "Alright. I got it. See ya, Alby."
Alby nods and walks away, leaving the two alone. She's still uncomfortable, but so far, Newt seems fine. Just gotta find a way to escape this place when no one is looking and everything is fine.
"Why am I here?" The words come out fast. Desperate.
"Honestly, I have no idea." Newt motions for her to follow him, which she eventually does.
"Are there any other girls?"
"Nope. You're the first one."
Too bad. Or is that good? Does that mean other girls have been spared? "Will the no-touching-me rule be forever?"
"Yes," he confirms.
Okay. Even more comfortable now. "So I'm not here between all those boys to... you know?"
"Oh, bloody hell no!" Newt almost throws his hands in the air. "But I promise I'll explain everythin' to ya tomorrow. Try to spare some energy. It'll be a long day. You've arrived late, you're a girl, and people are probably too stunned to have the Bonfire tonight. We'll do all of it tomorrow."
All she can do is nod, though she only understands half of it. What time was she supposed to arrive at? What does that bonfire include? Where is she? What even is this place?!
"You can sleep in my hut for the night. Sloppers washed my bedsheets today, so it'll be sanitized enough for you to be okay in. There's a lock. I understand you'll refuse taking my clothes, so don't be ashamed to just sleep in the ones you're wearing now. There's boys who haven't changed in weeks."
She still barely knows what he's talking about. "Alright. Thank you."
"Try not to overthink the whole night," he adds. "It's not extremely late, though. Perhaps some dinner first? You must be hungry—"
"Nope, thanks. I'll make it." And she closes the door, locking it immediately.
And deciding to stay in this hut until everyone is asleep. Because who knows they all might be liars? That the rule to not touch her is completely fake?
Guess she'll find out tomorrow, if she even manages to sleep with this bruised, maybe broken, wrist.