Ribs - Lorde
Thank you so much Gangster19920 for creating these awesome pictures for my story and I! Thank you so much for being such a great person! If it weren't for you, this chapter would've taken a lot longer to come out! Thank you so much!
Enjoy Chapter 41, shanks!
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"Thomas."
The meek voice echoed between the slabs of concrete walls, sending waves of emotional shutters to wrack my trembling bones.
"Thomas, can you hear me?"
My fingers curled into my palms like a protective shield against the harsh winds of reality. My sleep deprived nerves jittered beneath my skin as my heavy head faced the dark grass beneath the black soles of my boots. My mouth hung dry as my ears awaited the shrill depth of the man-with-memories' voice.
"Thomas, it's Chuck. Are you okay? Please don't die, dude."
From inside the Slammer walls, Chuck sat perched on the dusty concrete floor while his wide and youthful eyes scoured Thomas' sweaty face.
The third day was usually all it took for the Changing to bypass before the victim awoke distraught, disoriented, and even more terrified than before his experience. Thomas was supposed to awaken today and Chuck wished to be the first to assist him. I stood outside the doors listening to the delicate conversation, too afraid to look into his brown eyes for the first time and be told that the one truth he fed me was a lie.
I can't bare another deceit, whether it was intentional or not.
Newt stood behind me, peeking into the barred window every time a word left the pudgy lips of the twelve-year-old boy. Newt softly trailed his fingertips along my forearm in a rhythmic drag, pressed soothing lines across my skin. We stood silent as I ignored his glances of concern, pushing them far away but appreciate them nonetheless.
For the past twenty-four hours, I've dealt with the whispers and the gazes of pity and confusion. The gazes made of confusion was something I was used to since the moment I can remember, but I despised the pity and the sympathy.
After Thomas' episode, word spread of the "trapped siblings".
Gladers made not-so discreet wagers, betting between the options of "Thomas is just crazy" or "its for-real". Gazes followed me like tight leashes, everyone waiting for me to spontaneously combust and explode in a ball of destructive emotion.
No one else matters. I told myself. I just need to know the truth.
A deep groan echoed out of the slab of concrete, pins and needles poking my skin as my head lifted at the noise. My eyes met the grey wall, but my ears stayed highly attentive. Newt's hand curled around my bicep as a claim of comfort.
Though, I knew he felt the same relief as me.
"He's awake!" Chuck's voice happily called, his voice rattling me to acknowledge my reality, "Thomas is awake!"
Newt patted my back gently, gathering my attention. My eyes drifted to his, both of our anxieties swirling about our irises. He kissed my forehead, short and sweet, before darting away to find Alby and start a Gathering in honour of Thomas' motives and possible gatherings. I immediately felt a chill in the absence of Newt, the new lack of comfort and warmth reminding me of this harsh reality.
"Sorry-I'm just glad you're alive. You're lucky I don't give you a big kiss." Chuck's apologetic voice was filled with little bursts of giggles.
"Please don't do that, Chuck," Aching humour left Thomas' raspy voice, "How long did it take?"
"Three days," I whispered under my breath, a dull and angry ache pushed on my heart the same time Chuck replied with the same answer.
"We put you in the Slammer at night to keep you safe - brought you back here during the days. Thought you were dead for sure about thirty times since you started. But check you out - you look brand-new!" Chuck continued to ramble, his excitement spilling like vomit.
I'm sure he looks fantastic. I thought sarcastically, my eyebrows quirking.
Is he awake? Teresa's voice filled my anxious thoughts, giving me something new to focus on.
Yup. He's speakin' and everything. My thoughts grumbled back, my brain vibrating at the sound of my own inner-voice.
Have you talked to him yet? Teresa asked.
Haven't had the chance yet. But once Chuck stops yappin', I'll see how he is. I responded back quickly, the moody, sleep-deprived version taking over.
Are you nervous? Teresa asked, tentatively.
I let the question sink in as I thought of an answer. My toes curled inside my black running shoes, as I felt my own emotions poke at my speeding heart. I was angry, for sure. If what Thomas said was true, then the Creators placed my brother and I in a place where either of us could die without any memory that we were even related. I was anxious. What if Thomas was just spiting crazy nonsense because of the Changing and we actually aren't related? Which leads me to my final emotion - I'm hopeful. Some part in my head, beneath all the damaged trust issues and trauma, hopes that Thomas is my brother. It would make sense with all the common personality traits and back-and-forth bickering, but I sincerely hope that the Creators had sent me that small piece of home that Thomas is and represents.
No matter how selfish it is.
Yeah. A little. I murmur, cutting off whatever connection our telepathy works on. It seemed to be perfect timing when I watched a short blur of curls go running past, shouting out Newt and Alby's name.
It was my time to get the truth.
I briefly glanced at the frantic figure of Chuck sprinting across the dark, green hills before turning my attention to the open concrete door. I could barely order my thoughts to coincide with one another as I took a step into the dark shadows of the Slammer.
My soft foot steps began to echo as grass turned to concrete, and the grey lights around faded into the shadows of the gloomy room. Each step echoed like the tic of a clock as beads of sweat dripped of my neck like jewelry.
In the far right corner laid a heap of tossed sheets and crooked fabric, nestling the exhausted body of a boy on top. The aroma in the small room reeked of sweat and humidity, clinging to my nostrils like a dank condensation. I listened to his ragged breathing, the distant sounds of frantic chatter around the Glade drowning out as I leaned against the wall parallel to his laying body.
My eyes never left his exhausted body. His hands had fallen over his aching face while the sweat continued to roll from his forehead.
I couldn't comprehend any words to leave my mouth as I placed my back against the cool concrete wall. My shoes scuffled against the dusty floor, loud enough for Thomas to hear. Yet as my eyes studied him, his hands never left his face and his mind seemed to be whisked away.
I released a tense breath of air as I crossed my arms, words tumbling around my head as I tried to create my first sentence.
It was quiet for a few moments as I collected my thoughts. My eyes rolled over Thomas' limp figure, my heart jumping into my throat as words finally tumbled out unconsciously.
"The moment you ran down those stairs, I thought you were going t'kill me." Honesty fell from my lips and clattered to the dusty floor, startling the exhausted boy out of his groggy position.
His entire body lurched forwards as he acknowledged my presence, anxiety visibly gripping his skin. Yet, the moment his eyes landed on me, his face dropped in awe. Light brown eyes skittered across my tensed form, an intense amount of relief pouring from his expression as he studied my crossed arms and faux relaxation.
"Ame." My name left Thomas' lips like smoke from a cigarette.
My muscles squeezed while mixed emotions rained across my poor heart. I swallowed my vulnerable sensation, feeling curiosity and concern powder my expression.
"You looked like Ben. Pasty and sick. Crazy. You looked crazy," I gulped, moving my eyes to the floor and pushing myself off the wall, "You flew down the stairs like you had wings before latching yourself onto me."
His breathing was ragged as Thomas squinted to understand my words. It settled in like snow and I saw fear shoot through his eyes like an arrow.
"Ame. Oh god, Ame. Did-did I hurt you?" Thomas croaked out, his apologetic eyes scouring my body for injuries inflicted by him.
"I'm okay. You didn't hurt me. But you weren't exactly the bearer of good news, either." I pursed my lips together, refusing to meet the hazel eyes that made me feel like I was home.
"I-I don't remember waking up. What happened?" Thomas spoke frantically, his quick heart appearing through his voice.
I don't remember how tears began to form or why my heart began to ache with the hope that maybe I could have a family, but the moment my voice cracked, begging the question that had plagued me for hours, I knew my strong facade would soon finally crumble.
"Is it true?" I asked.
Thomas fell silent, his lips parting as his eyes flickered around the room, shifting through the multiple memories he more-than-likely attained. Pain suddenly took over his expression, as his new memories settled into his thoughts.
"Which one?" Thomas nearly whispered out, referring to which memory he exposed to me.
Sudden emotion overcame me. I tilted my chin up in an attempt to keep my unwanted tears from falling, feeling my lips begin to quiver. I wanted Thomas to be my brother. I wanted this to be real so bad. I just wanted one piece of home. I want something of home to hang on to in case I really did die here. So my last few seconds aren't spent thinking of the family I don't remember.
The distance between Thomas and I began to itch the wrong way like it was a symbol of my reach from knowing. My feet moved without my approval but I didn't resent it either. I skittered next to his sleeping bag, reluctantly meeting his sorrowful brown eyes. My legs bent as I kneeled beside him, my pant legs gathering dust along the knees as I placed my butt between my two feet. The nerves in my neck ticked as the need to know nearly made me vomit the million dollar question. Mumbles came out at first as my brain tested my mouth, as if asking my body if I was ready to take the news.
I was ready.
"Am I actually your sister?"
The words echoed out of my mouth like a gong and I couldn't tell if I regretted asking. Yet, my eyes scoured his face, searching for the answer in his expression before I could be given the verbal confirmation.
His eyebrows lifted as he melted into the question. His chest lifted as he breathed in my words, his long, pale fingers trembling onto each other. Thomas blinked, his chestnut eyes flickering around certain points of my face like he was identifying me. I couldn't tell if he was reluctant to say anything or if he was just surprised to see me so emotional.
Then, like ice thawing for Spring, Thomas slowly nodded his head, a small, adoring smile breaking through the intensity like a ray of sunlight.
I didn't get a chance to breathe before my limbs lifted, my trembling and scarred arms securely intertwining around the neck of my brother.
I felt him stiffen underneath my chest, but I was so overwhelmed with relief that I didn't care for his nervous tendencies. The tears, which I tried desperately to rear back, slipped down my cheeks like raindrops. I felt Thomas tentatively place his hands on my waist as if testing the waters. When I tightened my grip, Thomas gave in and curled his sore arms around my waist, releasing his own peaceful and relieving sigh.
We've never hugged like this before, but it feels like we've done this millions of times before.
I just don't remember it.
We stayed like that for a long time. Neither knowing what to do if we were to move. We just wanted to hang on to our little piece of home for as long as we could. Who knows who the grievers will steal tonight.
I finally tugged back, keeping my hands wrapped in his like he would disappear if I let go. My wet eyes drowned into his as the peacefulness of the moment began to fade away, the curious questions plaguing me like nightmares. Again.
The light in Thomas' eyes dimmed as he recognized my knitted brows and curvy smile.
"A lot of things are going on out there, Ame. A lot of things I hope are nightmares." Thomas sputtered out, his eyes flashing with pain at the memories.
"Like what?" I scooted myself closer and gently squeezed his hands in attempts to comfort him.
"Things are beginning to fade and I only want t'say it once at the Gathering." Thomas nodded.
"Then don't tell me the details. Do you know how to get out of here?" I urged, nearly begging Thomas for answers.
Thomas trembled as his gaze fell to the ground, searching for the answers inside his cranium. He numbly nodded before quickly and skittishly correcting himself, "But it's complicated!"
It fell silent as Thomas released my hands, lifting his wavy fingers to his sweating forehead where he proceeded to massage his temples. The memories were almost too much for him. I craved the answers so badly, I nearly opened my mouth and asked for more.
Then, I realized that I was already blessed with the knowledge of having family. That I had my brother.
My right hand tentatively reached upwards, my fingertips just barely grazing his burning skin. Thomas stiffened at the touch before slowly lifting his gaze to mine. My expression melted into one of determination as a vow began to be written along the walls of my cranium. I released a quiet breath, bowing my head for my eyes to meet his.
"If you know the way out, then that's good enough for me," A smile curled across my lips as I clasped my right hand into his right hand, cupping it like we were about to arm-wrestle, "I'll follow you anywhere, T."
Thomas' face lifted at my words, his eyes lighting up once more. A slow smile found his pale lips, before my hand was squeezed in appreciation.
"You weren't always like that, you know. From what I can tell, you didn't know how to listen," Thomas smirked as his memories slipped between his teeth. His eyes scanned me quickly, an amused grin caressing his features, "Still don't."
My ears perked at the new information of myself, finding a startling amusement in my forgotten life.
"Tell me more. Please. Like tell me more about me. What was I like? Do you remember our family?" Words spilled from my lips, the questions more prominent than the will to respect his privacy.
Thomas' soft grin melted off his lips as his eyes glossed over.
"I don't remember everything. I don't remember what our parents look like, but I know we had them. We...weren't with them for long. I just remember most of our lives were spent in a facility. You and I were separated for awhile. I guess because of genders or age or intelligence or...I don't know-" Thomas began to spit out his fading memories.
"Intelligence?" I furthered the topic.
"Yeah. This facility was entirely intelligence based. I'll talk more about it in the Gathering. Just...they didn't really like you. And...I can't remember why. You would leave for long periods of time then come back before leaving right after." Thomas proceeded, squeezing my hands in return as if the idea of me leaving caused him pain.
"So, this facility that took care of us didn't like me...but liked you? Not that there's much wrong with you but what was so wrong with me?" I pressed.
"'Much'? Ame, your attitude isn't needed. But, yeah, the facility-" Thomas deadpanned, trying to continue.
"Yes it is-" I interrupted, nodding my head.
"The facility," Thomas proceeded, emphasizing the word I cut him off from initially, "is a research facility based off of our brain activity - at least from what I could tell. You weren't containable like the rest of the subjects. You were the same as you are now: loud-mouthed, over-opinionated, irritating, unorganized-"
"I'm organized." I tried to correct while Thomas continued.
"There was something different with your brain activity compared to the other subjects which made them consider dropping you from the research. But because your were more physically coordinated they used that and placed you into some sort of training." Thomas' memories started to fit into reality like a puzzle piece. His head bobbed as he spoke, his light eyes widening as if he were discovering the truth for himself.
"That's why I know how to defend myself and create these battle strategies! Because I was trained before all this. All this has been muscle memory," A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as things in my daily life began to make sense, "What was I training for?"
Thomas shrugged, "I can't remember. Sometimes I see flashes of you covered in black clothes and are covered in sunburns. I can't imagine what you were training for but I can guess that it involved some form of fighting."
"And-and this facility.... This facility that we lived in and did research with - or for, I guess.... They're the-" I tried to spit the words out with my tangled tongue and frazzled mind.
"The Creators. They're the ones that are running this...test. They're weeding us out, seeing if we'll give up, finding the best of us. Throwing variables at us, trying to make us quit. Testing our ability to hope and fight. Ame, W.I.C.K.E.D. is the facility we lived at." Thomas' hands shook as he spoke the cold hard truth, chilling the room to an icy reality. It was hard to think, let alone speak.
"'World In Catastrophe...Killzone Experiment Department'... Are things that bad out there?" I asked, my eyes trying to find the comfort in his safe brown eyes as he avoided my gaze.
"I hope not." Thomas admitted, his eyes clouding with anxiety as his gaze lead to a blank wall. It remained silent for a few moments as I allowed the news to settle in. There was still some major gaps about my life that needed to be covered, but my need-to-know has momentarily been satisfied as my head began to throb.
I took a breath.
Then my head was refreshed with a load of new questions.
"What about this telepathy thing? How does that play into all of this?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.
"To be honest, I don't know. I think it has something to with these chips that were placed in all of our heads as kids. I don't know why only us three can use it, but...here we are." Thomas shook his head, his lips bitter as if he were angry that not all of his memories came back.
"Why was it only Teresa and I sent here? Why not other girls?" The question unintentionally shot from my lips like a bullet, making Thomas freeze. His gaze, which hadn't met mine for the better part of the conversation, finally lifted from the wall and stared deep into my corneas. His face paled as a look of guilt tickled his furrowing eyebrows. I felt confused at his sudden guilt, making mental and shameful accusations inside my thoughts. It took him a few minutes to find his words as his eyes glossed over once again.
"W.I.C.K.E.D. studies reactions and responses. I guess...they wanted to see the Gladers' response to a girl," Thomas' eyes shifted again, his shoulders tensing, "Sending Teresa here and shutting everything down was the last part to a final reaction analysis. Now is the final test. She did trigger the end. She triggered the end of Glade which leads us to the final step. To escape."
My blood ran cold, my left hand squeezes Thomas' as fear for the upcoming battle approaches faster than I thought. The concept of leaving this place terrified me. This is the only place I can remember and even though it's hell on earth, there is still some wonderful memories I hope to cherish forever. Like pranks with Chuck, arguing with Alby, out-sassing Minho, annoying Thomas, girl-talks with Teresa, joking with Frypan, flirting with Newt.... A society wasn't just built here, a family was created as well. Even though I can't remember everything about Thomas' and our parents, I still have this family here.
If I'm going down, then I'm going down for them.
My eyes lifted from the ground as I began studying Thomas' trembling form. He was just as terrified, if not more, than me. His murky, unfocused eyes flickered across the bottom of the dark wall, his mind elsewhere. I wished to dig inside his head and search for the memories myself, but I knew by the painful look on his face that maybe ignorance is bliss. My gaze trailed off of his expression, thoroughly staring at his features.
"What are you doing?" Thomas' eyes finally flickered towards me, furrowing his brows at my studious gaze.
"I'm trying to find the similarities." I ignored his eyes as I tilted my head. This was my attempt at lightening up the situation.
"Oh...did you find any?" Thomas mused, his trembles slowing as he began studying me in return.
I shook my head with pursed lip, "I mean, we're both pale as shit but aside from that, I can't find any. I don't exactly remember what I look like so it's kinda hard to compare. Unless everyone is lying when they say my eyes are blue when they're actually brown, then nope. And clearly you don't have blonde hair, so...maybe you were adopted." I declared.
"Well, actually, you have - wait, why would I be the adopted one? I'm older. I was alive a full year before you! What if you were the adopted one?" Thomas shot back, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Because you're the uglier one." I grinned back.
A sick joy flared up in my stomach at Thomas' offended expression, his responses making me snicker. Suddenly, all of our insensate bickering and immature arguing made sense. We both paused at the simultaneous realization, gazing at each other with our mouths gaping. The corner of our mouths lifted, the joyous comfort of a sibling filling us like cups of tea before overflowing with hardy chuckles and happy laughs. We've always been siblings and acted like siblings even when we couldn't remember. He always felt like home even when I didn't realize he was home. He was always there even when I didn't know it.
Our laughing fit went on for a few moments before fading into fits of giggles and my head falling onto his shoulder. The laughs faded but the cozy happiness lasted even when we didn't speak; and we didn't speak for awhile. We just cherished the moment for as long as we could, knowing either one of us could be taken later that day.
"You know...there is one more thing you should know." Thomas' shoulder vibrated from underneath me as I felt the hand that he used to rub my back lift to the back of my head. Suddenly, there was a sharp tug on a single strand of hair, making a shout leave my lips as I moved my head away from his grabby hands.
"Hey!" I exclaimed rubbing the back of my head.
Thomas held the strand out in front of my face, holding it by the bottom. He squinted to get a better look at it before smiling triumphantly. He held it closer to my eyes while I gave him a baffled look.
Seriously, just because we remembered we're related doesn't mean he can go around pulling on my hair like the immature child he is.
"Just look at it," Thomas rolled his eyes at my attitude.
Rolling my eyes back at him, I leaned forward to study my own hair strand. My eyes traveled from the bottom-up, my yellow hair glowing in what light the Glade reflected. It wasn't until I reached the root did I realized there was a dark difference. The blonde colour didn't even fade. Once the blonde colour ended, a dark colour coated an inch from the root. My eyes squinted further - as if nearly closing my eyes completely would give me the answer - before gazing back up to Thomas for an explanation.
Thomas smirked at my confusion before nodding, "I don't know when you had the time to dye it, but you're actually a brunette. Just like your ugly older brother."
I stilled at the realization that I wasn't a blonde. Not that there was anything wrong with brown hair, I just never imagined that my hair colour could've been another one.
"That makes so much sense." I nodded stiffly as my own realization settled in.
"How?" Thomas questioned, flicking the strand of hair away from him.
"Well...I mean when I go to the washroom and look down to see that the drapes don't match the carpet-" I begin in an obvious tone.
"Just stop talking." Thomas cringed deeply, running a hand down his face.
A snicker left my nose at his unsettled and disturbed expression.
"Tommy-you barely look sick." A playfully voice echoed from the doorway of the Slammer. The voice easily sent a chill down my back as a warm tingle climbed up my neck forcing me into a bashful grin. I turned towards the source of the noise, seeing the handsome blonde lean against the concrete doorway with his hands in his pockets. His lips were twitched into a a soft smile as he observed Thomas.
Thomas cracked a crooked smile, looking down at himself as if preparing for the onslaught of chastising and criticism he will be receiving later.
Newt grinned back, his hidden relief only evident in his twitching lips. He turned his gaze to me, studying my appearance. I knew I looked as messy as I felt with the dry tears crusted on my face and the red eyes. The only thing that calmed Newt however, was the peaceful smile pasted on my pale face. I nodded at Newt, giving him the only answer he needed for that moment.
I was okay.
"Right," Newt breathed, his eyes twinkling upon me before gazing back at Thomas, "The Keepers are ready whenever you are, Tommy. You ready?"
Thomas released an uneven sigh, his trembles returning along with his anxious and guilty eyes. He nodded only twice before reaching a hand up towards Newt, non-verbally asking him to help him up. Newt quickly hobbled over, gripping Thomas' wrist in his hand. I stood up along with Thomas, brushing off the dust from my own pants. When I stood back up and observed the scene in front of me, I couldn't help but be amused and slightly concerned.
Even though Thomas looked like a pile of klunk and wreaked of sweat, his trembling hands aggressively grasped onto Newt's collar, giving him a slight shake as the two pairs of brown eyes stared into the other. Newt looked as confused as I felt while Thomas looked threatening. I was about to speak and separate whatever fight was about to begin when Thomas finally released a menacing growl.
"If you ever think of hurting my sister, I will kill you in the most gruesome way possible."
Thomas released Newt, his crossed expression falling into a naive grin. He patted Newt's shoulder before slowly limping out of the Slammer, whistling an unknown tune and acting like nothing ever happened.
"So...uh...what happened?" Newt stuttered, our eyes never leaving Thomas' retreating figure.
"I found out I'm a fake blonde." Was all I could say as a quiet grin took hold of my mouth.
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So, I know I take forever to update, but yo' girl started university and it ain't a walk in the park.
I am trying to stay on top of this story in hopes of finishing it.
There's always hope.
Thank you to everyone for sticking around for this long, I really do appreciate you all. All of your comments and votes really inspire me to continue. You guys are why this book is still in progress.
So again, thank you all so much.
I will be starting to put songs at the top of each chapter if y'all wanna take a listen.
The gif isn't mine.
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xoAwkwardDiamond <3