“Well,” A grin cracked across Newt’s face, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”
You vaguely acknowledged him with a nod, truly off in your own world.
Who were you?!
The question was always in the back of your mind, making you dizzy if you focused on it for too long. Who were you to be stuck there? You focused on your minds eye, hoping that the more you concentrated the more you would remember.
But all you knew was your name, and that was it.
You didn’t know anything about who you were, and why you were stuck in the Glade. There had to be a reason, a fucked up reason, for you to be trapped there.
And maybe there was a way to jog your memory.
“I want to see my tattoo.” You blurted to Newt, who just shrugged, “Okay, whatever you want.”
Wordlessly, he did what you asked.
He showed you the Homestead, and a line of showers, sinks and bathrooms near the back of the building. There was only one mirror, as he’d explained, which was cracked and dented.
Yet, for all intensive purposes, it would do the trick.
The bathrooms were just as grimy as you’d expected them to be, and you found yourself breathing through your mouth at the stench. Jesus, you thought, with 30+ teenage guys living, here no wonder it smells so bad.
“Here we are,” Newt halted before a sink, and motioned for you to walk over.
Slowly, you braced your hands on the sink’s basin, leaning forward ever-so-slightly before looking up at yourself.
What you saw truly shocked you.
A tan freckled face stared back at you, brown eyes gazing mercilessly at your reflection. Long and tumbling brown, your hair reached all the way to your first rib, curling slightly at the bottom. But what really caught your attention, was the left side of your jaw.
In bold, black letters around the size of two of your fingers was the word WCKD, and it actually startled you. It didn’t go with your face, your features, and felt so terribly wrong you couldn’t bare to look at it anymore.
You didn’t know what you’d expected to happen, but it hadn’t been that. The rage you were so suddenly filled with was unlike anything you’d felt before, or at least you assumed so.
“What does WCKD mean?” You looked at Newt through the mirror, scared that you already knew the answer, and he just sighed in defeat, “They’re the people who put us here. Who put all of us here, (Y/N). Nobody knows why, we’re all like you.”
So that was the truth he’d been trying so hard to keep from you.
But instead of scaring you further, it had the opposite effect. Now you knew who to focus all this rage on: WCKD. The people who’d taken away your life, your home, your memory of either of those things.
“What’s wrong?” Newt asked quietly, but you just shook your head, “I hate them. And I hate that thing,” You glanced at the tattoo, “It feels like they own me, and I hate it.”
He was silent for a moment, everything quiet except a leaking tap from one of the showers, pondering what to say next. You just sighed, turning away from your reflection and brushing your hair over the tattoo- even though you knew it wouldn’t stay.
On the way out, Newt stopped you just before the entrance, “They don’t, you know.”
“What?”
“Own you. They don’t own you. ” He said quietly, taking a step in your direction, “The people we were before, they don’t even exist anymore. Whoever you were or weren’t to WCKD, whatever you did, it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s a nice thought,” You bit your lip, “But the thing is I don’t even know the person I was before, I could’ve been the one who put you all in here and I’d have no way of knowing, Newt.“ Your voice broke ever so slightly, and you prayed he didn’t notice.
But he just shook his head and gently put a hand to your cheek, “It’s like I said, (Y/N), none of that matters.” He paused, letting his hand fall as he realized what he was doing, “It doesn’t matter one god damn bit.”