TMR - Thomas x X-reader fanfiction

Chapter Eighteen

Y/N's POV

"What is this place?"

Dust swirls into the air as my fingers trail along a long, metal rail. The entire room is coated in a thick layer of it, untouched for what feels like years. My gaze sweeps across the dimly lit space, landing on a massive object covered by a sheet.

I grip the fabric and yank it off revealing a large screen. A cloud of dust erupts, making me cough.

Minho steps up beside me, tilting his head. "It must be some kind of tech, don't you think?"

His voice is barely above a murmur, like speaking too loudly might wake something in the room.

I don't answer.

Something about this place feels wrong. It feels... Familiar. Uncomfortably familiar.

The feeling pulls me forward. My feet move on their own, weaving between clusters of rusted, forgotten tech. My fingertips trail across cold surfaces, each piece sending a ghostly whisper of recognition through my mind.

I know this place.

But I don't know how I know it.

"Can someone give me a hand?"

I stop at the far end of the room, where a fallen metal stand blocks a door.

Thomas and Newt hurry over, and together we shove the stand aside with a loud screech.

To our surprise, the door is already slightly open.

Thomas hesitates before pressing his hand against it, pushing it wider. "I'll go first—"

But I'm already inside.

The air is heavy. Stale. The room beyond is pitch-black, drowning in shadows that creep along the walls, twisting up my body like unseen hands reaching out to pull me in.

I know this place.

The thought pounds in my skull, but when I try to grasp it, it slips through my fingers like sand.

"See if you can find a switch or something," I say, my voice unnervingly quiet. "I feel blind in here."

I take another careful step forward—

And the ground vanishes beneath me.

With a sharp gasp, I hit the floor hard.

"Ah—shuck!" I groan, clutching my back.

A sudden burst of laughter erupts behind me.

I whip my head around to find Thomas and Minho both dying, barely able to breathe through their laughter.

"It's not that funny," I glare at them. "No need to laugh like hyenas."

"Oh, yes it is," Minho manages between gasps.

"What even was that?"

"Thin air, probably," he smirks. "After all, you are the queen of clumsiness."

I scowl. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

Thomas grins, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You good, princess?"

"Oh, don't you start." I roll my eyes, but before I can snap back with another remark, something warm trickles down my cheek.

I lift a hand to wipe it away—

My fingers come away warm. Sticky. Red.

Blood.

"Found the light!" Minho announces, and in the same breath, a fluorescent glow floods the room.

Silence.

Everything stops.

I don't even get the chance to react before I see it.

A woman, lifeless and still, her body sprawled across the cold floor. I stumble back, a strangled scream ripping from my throat.

My foot catches on something, and I nearly fall again, but Thomas is already there, grabbing my shoulders. "Y/N—"

But I can't move.

I can't look away.

She lies motionless in a pool of blood. Her hair—light brown but now soaked in red—fans around her pale face.

Her eyes.

They stare up at me, but there's nothing there. No life. No fear. No pain. Just emptiness.

Cold.

Still.

Dead.

Her lips have turned blue, her body stiff.

And she's not alone.

I suck in a sharp breath, my gaze darting around the room—

More bodies.

More blood.

Men and women, slumped in chairs, sprawled across the floor. Their lifeless bodies painted against the sterile white walls, now splattered red.

The air is thick with the scent of death.

I can't breathe.

A hand lands on my shoulder, firm but gentle.

Thomas.

His warm brown eyes meet mine, but they're different this time.

They hold pain.

A sadness that runs deep.

I barely realize I'm shaking until he reaches up, brushing away a tear I hadn't even noticed had fallen.

"I..." My voice comes out in a whisper, barely audible.

I swallow hard. My throat is dry. My body feels frozen.

But I manage to force out the words.

"I know her."

Silence.

Minho steps forward, his usual sarcasm gone. "What? How? Who is she?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But I do know her. I saw her. In my vision."

Thomas' entire body stiffens.

"I know her too."

His voice is quiet. Almost... haunted.

I turn to him sharply. "What do you mean you know her?"

But his eyes remain locked on the woman's lifeless body.

He doesn't answer.

I can feel Minho about to push for more when—

A bright light suddenly flickers across the room.

All of the screens around us blink to life, casting a ghostly green glow against the blood-stained walls. The monitors hum softly, the screens flickering before focusing into clear images.

And then—

We see it.

We all see it.

Our bodies go rigid, our breath catching in our throats.

Newt stumbles forward, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"...Is that...?"

"The Glade..."