For about an hour you’d been sitting in what everyone called the “Slammer”, trying to get yourself to calm down. Your heart was pounding and the uncertainty was killing you- when were they going to come back? What were they going to do?
At first you’d been angry. You’d yelled at Newt and slammed your tied-together hands against the ceiling’s opening. You’d screamed and cursed everyone you knew- which as of now was just Newt, Gally, Alby and Minho. But that was enough. You’d screamed until your throat was raw, but nobody had answered your cries.
The worst part about it had been that you didn’t even know who to be angry with. Yeah, the boys were the obvious target, but you couldn’t escape the terrifying thought that something larger was going on. It had to be.
The thought forced you to calm down. To sit and think for a moment.
What was WCKD? Why did Newt visibly flinch when he saw it tattooed to your jaw. Before you were jumped by Minho, you’d noticed walls surrounding the camp. Only a few exits. Was it possible they were trapped here too?
And what was with that box you’d been sent up in? It had food and water, as if these boys didn’t have the means of getting it themselves.
You wondered until your head hurt.
“Hey,” Newt’s accent cut through your inner turmoil, “Screamed yourself out yet?”
You only glared at him, a leftover tear sliding down your cheek.
He swallowed hard at the sight, and you noticed the way his eyes flicked from your face, to your jaw, to your bound wrists, “Let me see your hands.”
“What?” You scoffed, more bitterly than you intended, “You gonna tie my ankles together too? Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I’m gonna untie you, actually.” His gaze on your eyes never faltered, not even as he jumped down into the Slammer and drew a knife from his belt.
“Oh my god,” You breathed and stumbled back- he wouldn’t actually hurt you, would he?
He took another step in your direction and you threw your hands in front of your face. Of course he would hurt you- why were you second guessing that? Newt was an enemy, not a friend.
“I’m not, I’m not gonna…. it’s not like that.” He grimaced at the sight of you peering up at him through your fingers. Terror filling your eyes.
“Just, just give me your wrists.” His voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it before, so you held your hands out.
The adrenaline coursing through your body had since worn off, and you found yourself gritting your teeth as Newt cut the ropes away. The skin underneath was raw- cracked and bleeding from tugging at the restraints for what felt like hours.
The way he carefully unwrapped the rope, as if he actually cared if it hurt you, was intriguing. With expert skill, his fingers undid the knots, gently peeling everything away before tossing them to the side.
When he was finished you quickly drew your hands away, but he only nodded, “You’ll need a medjack for that.”
“I don’t need whatever the hell that is.” You glared up at him, what in the world was a medjack?
“Yeah, that’s not your choice, love.” He held out his hand, “Alby’ll have my head if those get infected, so we’re going.”
“You did that to me,” You motioned to the red marks wrapping around your wrists where the ties had been, “Why would I go anywhere with you?”
He flinched, and then clenched his jaw, “Cause I’m second in command, love.”