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10.
The Gladers spent the rest of their evening making makeshift packs out of bedsheets to carry the food and some of the extra clothes that had appeared in their dressers. She had tied most of the bags of water with a ripped curtained. No one expected the poor excuses for canteens to last very long. They had no other ideas though.Newt and Blake had finally convinced Minho to be the leader. Mostly flattering him. He wore a smug grin as they did so too. But Blake was relieved when Minho gingerly agreed.
Around nine o'clock, Blake laid on her side staring at the rows of bunks. She noticed even in the darkened room that Thomas's eyes were opened. She sat up, whispering his name quietly. "What?" He replied.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked.
He turned his head to look at her. "Tomorrow. Wicked. Teresa."
"Teresa?" She felt that guilt creeping in, remembering how those people took her.
"Yeah. You know, I wonder if she is okay. Where she is. And... Well, I just miss her..." Thomas trailed off, leaning his head back.
"I miss not being the only girl around," she joked, trying to cheer him up. He just remained quiet.
"I'm sorry, Thomas," Blake finally said, truly meaning it. "I tried to save her, but there were too many of them. They swarmed us like bees."
"Yeah. Well, we need to get some sleep. Be ready for tomorrow. Leader Minho will kill us if we aren't awake and ready," Thomas said, rolling over. She could tell that he wasn't tired, he just wanted to end the Teresa topic.
"Right. Good old Keeper Minho. Anyways. Goodnight, dingus shank."
"Night, Blake."
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The chime of beeps ranged the room like a mega alarm. Blake groaned, rolling onto her stomach. Her eyes were an ache of sleepiness. Five o'clock in the morning. All the Gladers had set the alarm on their watches. Someone turned on the light and the blistering blast of yellow caused another groan from her. She squinted, her eyes hazy and vision cloudy.
Blake rolled her body to the side of the bed. She then swung her legs off the bunk, letting her feet hit the cold floor. Hunched over, she made her way to the showers in her old room. The warm water felt nice and refreshing. Trying to wake up, she watched the droplets trail down her fair arms. She wasn't sure the next time she would be able to clean herself again.
Once she was dressed, Blake tied the coils of brown hair into a braided crown. Then she slung the thin brown jacket onto her.
Ten minutes before the time they were supposed to be appointed by Rat Man, every Glader sat and waited. They all held a plastic bag full of water, the bedsheet packs at their sides. Blake held her water in her hands deciding it would be smarter that way.
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Damaged|| The Scorch Trials²/ Minho
Fanfiction• Trial Two: The Scorch • ||𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃|| Blake is cracking like the stone walls she had escaped from. Each lie, betrayal, challenge, and death pushes her into a deeper hole of emptiness. Blake and the Gladers thought they escaped from the madnes...