⁰⁰ ▇ ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 ... ❜
━━ ❛ the 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆. ❜ ‧˖˚. ☄︎ ͎۪۫ ◞⁺.
❪ part 01. location: the glade.
©kiiizones, all rights reserved ❫.
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑫 𝑾𝑨𝑺 cold when she woke up. She felt shivery and damp, curling into the fraying blanket on top of her and crushing her eyes shut. She didn't want to wake up.
She wanted it all to be a bad dream. All of it. The Glade. The Gathering. The huge gap between the walls. Alby and Newt and Ed. She wanted it to be a nightmare, but she knew it wasn't. She could tell by the way her throat burned. Her fingers scraped up to her throat, her eyes still tightly shut.
She remembered it all. The bubbling, uncontrollable anger and hatred. The way it overcame her. The want to actually hurt someone. Shoving Ed onto the ground. Shoving Newt onto the ground.
The scream. The sound that came from her. The huge, ear-splitting wail that still echoed on the air. The pain as it ripped out of her chest. She winced, curling into a tighter ball.
Her ears were filled with the static of the sheets rubbing together and the breeze dancing around the twigs that held the Med-Hut in place. She could hear wind chimes and dripping water. Water. That's what she needed. Something to put the fire out.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. The room was laid on its side from where her head rested, but she sat up and it righted itself. Sitting up sent a rush to her head, and she felt a wave of dizzy consume her. She let it pass before inspecting her surroundings.
She was in the same room they put her in before. The doorway was to her left, and a table stood adjacent to that in the corner. A metal bucket was next to her bed. On the table, a silver pewter jug stood next to a glass made out of the same material. She could see the light glinting off the drops of condensation as they rolled down the surface. She wet her lips with her tongue, before tossing the covers aside and scrambling up out of bed.
Her hands trembled uncontrollably. It took a considerable amount of effort to cross the tiny room to get to the table; as her shaking fingers closed around the jug's handle, she attempted to lift it.
Its weight threw her off balance. It swung on her wrist and crashed into the table as she released it like it had stung her. Water streaked along the dark wood as the jug skidded to a stop. She wanted to cry out in frustration, but her throat was so hot that no sound could come from her. She pressed her fingernails into the wood, so hard than the knuckles whitened and her veins burst through the pale skin. Her whole body shook with revulsion. She felt tears prick her eyes. She was disgusted by her weakness. Lifting a simple jug should've been easy.
"Emis?" Jeff had stepped into the doorway. She wiped the moisture away hastily and turned to face him. He eyed the water splash over the tabletop, but said nothing. He was holding a steaming bowl in his hands. "Here," he said, nodding to the bed. "Sit down and eat something."
Her eyebrows knitted together anxiously. Her throat was so painful, the idea of eating anything made her stomach flip over. He crossed to the bed and smoothed the sheets down with his one free hand, patting it down and then sitting on it himself. He gestured for her to join him.
Tentatively, she went to sit beside him. He didn't speak very much, Jeff. It was a peaceful quiet. Like he knew that nothing needed to be said.
The bowl held a clear broth. It smelled sweet, and slightly floral. He took a spoonful, then held it to her mouth. She wrinkled her nose and pulled away.
He sighed. "I know it's gotta hurt." He said, "but if you don't eat it you'll feel worse. I promise. This stuff makes everything ten times better." He held out the spoon again. "Please." He added.
She stared at him. He was acting like she was the invalid. Like the previous night hadn't happened; like she hadn't gone wild and thrown herself at Newt. He was speaking to her gently, like he thought she was fragile.
She let him feed her slowly. It felt ridiculous, being spoon fed, but it was almost insignificant. The taste was buttery and soft. And it wasn't as sweet as she had expected; there was sweetness but also a savoury element to it. It tasted fragrant, like it was filled with herbs.
The first few swallows were painful, but she grew used to it quickly. The bowl was drained faster than she expected it to, and when she opened her mouth for more, Jeff laughed.
"Not yet," he said. "Too much of this in one go isn't always that good for you."
She nodded. "Okay," she tried to say. Nothing came out. Her eyes stung with tears again.
"Here." He stood, crossing towards the table. He picked up the jug with ease, and poured whatever was left into the cup. The sound of water swirling against the base of the cup was a drum of harmony for Emis. The bowl clattered onto the floor as she took it from Jeff with both hands. She took a gulp, eyes half closing and breathing deepening as she allowed the water to sluice down her throat and extinguish the heat. Once she was done, she handed the cup back and tapped her lips together. He smiled.
"Here, one second." He stood up, and left the room. He returned with a towel over his arm, a sponge and a brush. He piled them all into her arms. "You should go and clean up." He said. "Once you're done, you can either come back here and rest, or Alby's prepping up so that he can give you the Tour."
She blinked at him.
He chuckled. "The Tour. He takes you 'round the Glade. Tells you the rules, introduces you to a few people. That's usually on the first day. The second is when you try out for your job."
She nodded. It sounded simple enough. The idea of coming back to lie down sounded nice, but she had to carry on with her life. If she was going to live here, she wanted to show the others that she could be strong, instead of just scary.
"I'd go now, if I were you." Said Jeff. "The hot water isn't always there this late in the day. You'll find the showers near the South Wall, in the corner sorta tucked in front of some trees. If you get lost, just stop and ask someone, okay?"
She nodded. When she left the hut, she had to squint. The sun was already high in the sky, which was a clear azure blue. Gladers were already getting on with their jobs. It was a startling normality.
But as she started to walk, she realised that people were staring. Briefly, but the anxiety was still there. It mostly made her uncomfortable; but somewhere, the bottom of her stomach, she could feel anger. Defensiveness. It's not like they're attacking you, she reasoned with herself, you freaked everyone out yesterday. Calm down.
She cast her gaze down to swim around her feet. But the feeling didn't go away.
"Hey! Emis!" Her head dragged upwards, she smiled as her eyes met Chuck, who was stumbling towards her. He fell into step beside her, having to take a few strides to keep up with her long ones. "You alright?" She nodded. "Where're you going?" He asked. His curls were flattened onto his head with damp, his cheeks were rosy and he wore his grin. She felt another pang, one like before. Sympathy for his innocence.
She stopped, looking around. There were just trees in front of them, nothing proper. She sighed, "I don't know," she croaked, her voice barely scraping his ears. He eyed the towel in her hands, "The showers are this way." He said, jerking his head in the opposite direction. She snorted, "Whoops."
"What's up with your voice?" He steered her around, leading her towards the showers, "That scream was real bad, huh?" The smile on her face faltered. She shrugged, nodding.
"Sorry," he said, sounding sorry. She ruffled his hair, earning the swat of his hand on hers. "'S'okay," she replied, her voice a whisper against his loud one.
"Hey, Newt was real worried about you." Said Chuck suddenly, "I'll bet he'll want to talk."
She shook her head, "No," she rasped, "I don't want to talk to him." She thought of what she did to him yesterday. The pain she'd caused him. Scraping her nails over his skin, shouldering him into the hard ground.
Chuck raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
It turned out that the showers were in another hut, but without a roof. Just metal shower heads poking over the top of cubicles, the floor was tiled, but it was haphazard and grimy. Emis ignored it when she shut the door behind her.
She peeled off her clothes, kicking off her shoes and socks. Jeff was right, but the water wasn't too cold. It was still warm, despite the sounds of cleansing coming from the next cubicle over. The sound of something slipping and the thud of a body on the wall, followed by a loud curse, brought a smile to her face. Her eyes flicked back up to the stream of warm water that ribboned from the shower head, scattering onto the ground.
She let the water engulf her, streaming down her in thick, cleansing sheets. She used the soap over her body, her arms and legs. Weirdly, every hair except those on the top of her head had been removed. There were odd scars on her legs, far too systematic and precise to be there by accident. She didn't linger on them, though.
She pulled her fingers through her hair, blood sifting out and raking downwards onto the floor, trickling into the drain. Which she found herself wanting to follow, to know where it led. She discovered more scars; on her shoulders, the skin just under her ears, her throat. The ones on her throat were spindly, more fragile. They were still identical.
She shut the water off, a dull, gurgling echoing sound rattled around the cubicle as the water trickled down the drain. She wrapped herself in the towel, which was just big enough to cover her.
She opened the door, and shrieked. Or tried to, it came out like a feeble cough.
Newt had his arms crossed, clean clothes tucked between his hands. He had a dubious expression on his face, but his eyes were smiling. "Any reason as to why you're avoiding me?" He asked. Emis felt her face heat up.
"I'm sorry," She croaked, "I don't know what happened to me yesterday. I didn't mean to hurt you."
His expression softened at her voice, and its weakness. "You think that hurt?" He shook his head, chuckling, "Pain's a fickle thing."
She saw through his lie, but said nothing. He forgave her, at least. She fought the urge to wince as he turned his head, a long, greying scar streaked from the top of his head down to his chin. Her eyes flicked away when he caught her looking.
They stood there for a while. She felt the water trailing down her back from her hair, her hands were drawn up to her chest to keep the towel in place. She shivered as the cool breeze mixed with her damp skin. He still had his arms crossed, his eyes wandered over her, drinking her in again.
"What are these?" He said, his eyes trailing onto the odd scars on her legs and shoulders. She shifted, snapping out of her daydream. She glanced down, "I don't know." She stuck a leg out and pointed her toes, "Battle scars." She croaked.
He didn't crack a smile. His warm eyes found hers, she felt her face heating up again. He took the smallest of steps forwards, the sound his shoe made on the floor was enormous. She felt conscious of everything, the sound of their breath mixing together with the fog of the shower, the way his feet were angled towards her, or how his brown eyes had turned to melted chocolate, his gaze intoxicating. "Okay," he said, his voice quiet.
Her gaze tore away from his, to the folded clothes in his arms. "Are those for me?" Her voice was still raspy. He nodded, seeming to snap back. "Jeff sent me."
She reached a hand out to take them, and he handed them to her, silent. There was a pause as he let his hand swing back to his side. Then, "See you."
"Bye."
She watched him go, then shrank back into the cubicle, closing the door behind her. Cringing at herself, she dressed silently, running the situation over in her head and shuddering at how she must've looked. She ran her fingers over the scars on her neck, her brow furrowed. She reached back for her hair, pulling it into a messy plait, hissing as she tugged too hard on particular strands. She tossed the plait over her shoulder, her thin hair dragging against her back. The clothes weren't her size, she noticed. They were too big, she had to roll the sleeves and ankles twice for her hands and feet to emerge.
She left the showers in search of the leader. As Jeff had said, she felt a lot better. Her stomach was still butterflies from the conversation with Newt. She narrowed her eyes, searching for Ably. She felt a hand thud on her shoulder, and flinched, spinning around at top speed.
Alby chuckled. "You're some firecracker, huh?" He smiled stonily. She swallowed. "How're you feeling?" He asked gently. She didn't reply.
He nodded. "I get it." He said. "You said you wanted answers," he dropped his hand. "Let's go."
He led her around the Glade at a comfortable pace. The others were preparing for something; warm, delicious smells wafted from the open kitchen, which another boy stood at, his arms crossed. He was laughing, the sweat glinted off his dark skin, his eyes were crinkled. The sight made Emis smile.
Alby showed her all the different jobs, told her how she had to do her part, that was a rule.
"There are two others." He said, holding two fingers up. He counted them off. "One: never harm another Glader." He chuckled, "I mean, you did yesterday, but I'll guess you had your reasons. Just don't do it again, okay?" She nodded, storing the information in her subtly empty mind.
"Second?" He put a hand on her shoulders, pointing to one of the huge gaps. They were still eerily magnetic, sparking curiosity. And fear. It loomed in the breeze, seeming to groan. "Never cross those walls. Okay? Don't go through. Don't even try." He shot her a look, "It's a death wish, anyway."
She nodded, grimacing. "Okay," She croaked. He opened his mouth to reply, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of a large, blaring alarm. Emis thought that the Glade seemed to enjoy throwing loud, annoying noises at them for the fun of it. Alby's eyes widened. "No way," he muttered, pushing past her and jogging across the open plain. Emis followed him, letting her legs carry her forwards, the sound of her shoes slapping onto the ground was swallowed by the alarm that continued to whip through her ears. Her eyes closed in on the Box, that seemed to glint in the late sunlight. It was the source of the sound, and had attracted a small crowd.
"What's going on?" She rasped, slowing to a jog when she was within good hearing distance. Ed turned his head towards her, beckoning her closer. She came to rest beside him, only a little surprised at her even breathing.
"New Greenie," he said, his voice low. A whisper, "We thought you'd be this month's, that they made a mistake." His voice rose as he spoke over the alarm that continued to blare, getting louder and louder. Emis recognised the sound, the first one that she'd heard in the Box. She shivered. "But," he continued, a small smile on his face, "Turns out we get a double barrel." He shrugged.
She opened her mouth to reply, but cut herself off. There was a loud, dragging buzz. And then, groaning and rattling, the doors to the Box began to slide open.
⁰⁰ ❛ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . .☄︎ ⋆࿐໋ ˖
a filler chapter, pretty short but here it is! please let me know what u think, i rlly appreciate every single one of you, i can't believe we're halfway to 1K sksk wth?? thank u all so much && a new chapter should be coming tmrw!!! your votes and comments make me sososo happy.
love, 𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒊. *♡・.