the end of beginning, thomas

ix; precious memory

As Melanie and Aris stood awkwardly to the side, the other boys and Teresa had concluded Winston couldn't walk. The group had made the tanned boy a stretcher, and had now started dragging him through the sandy scorch. The combination of the dry heat and the delirious dehydration stinging the back of her throat made Melanie reminisce on her times in the maze. Honestly, to her the maze was easy than this. Sure, the dull, mundane routine had her pulling her hair out with boredom; but at least it was predictable, unlike whatever was happening now.

At least within the confines of the towering concrete walls, her friends were with her, the girl had a sense of false security and a warm bed to rest her head. In reality, every time a thought of Harriet or Sonya crossed the teen's mind, she could feel her heart pound fiercely with sorrow. They were her best friends, the people who never made her feel isolated or awkward, the ones that if they were here now they'd know exactly what to do. The endless walking through the scorch and the balmy feeling of her shirt sticking to her sweaty back only aggravated her mind, joining the thoughts whirling around.

Continuing to walk, the sand picked up, a forming sandstorm rapidly approaching. Reluctantly, the entire group rush for shelter. They crouched, hiding themselves and their eyes from oncoming dust. They decided to rest for a while, their muscles calling out for the sweet release. Melanie, stuck in the boundaries of her conscience, failed to notice Thomas beside her. The boy's forehead furrowed, his attempts at pulling her from the depths she'd fallen into insufficient. He resorts to snapping his fingers in front of her face a few times, holding his water canister for her the take. She blinks suddenly, her light eyes finally focusing. It was only then the fact she was weeping hit her. Tears of silent heartbreak leave marks on her muddy cheeks.

She wiped them quickly, blinking to stop more from falling. It was obvious Thomas noticed, the boy wasn't blind. But he remained silent, keeping his concern to himself as his hands passed his canister into her calloused hands. Mumbling gratitude, Melanie gratefully sipped from the bottle. She felt the cool liquid ease the coarse feeling at the back of her throat and her chapped lips.

The pair sat in silence for a minute; with Melanie taking small drinks of water and Thomas staring at her with such raw emotion that couldn't be deciphered. His eyes caught the faded burgundy tie around the girl's wrist. It was fraying, the ends knotted to prevent any further damage. It looked meaningful, something Melanie treasured. His deep voice broke the serene silence. "What's that for?", Thomas asked, fingers pointing to her wrist.

Melanie's eyes followed his, coming to rest on the bracelet made back in the maze. The girl nodded, a far off smile lighting up her face. Despite the apparent grief, Thomas was glad he didn't leave her because if he had, her smile would have never been in his recent memory. The boy remembered Melanie pre-maze. Not everything, but enough to know who she was. Melanie, the brightest and prettiest girl, sent up second to Group B and who used to meet Thomas in back closets late at night to do things fuelled by teenage hormones and slow hands. He could never forget her, he thought if he did, the world would cease.