Our W.I.C.K.E.D Fate (The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl sequel)

16

As night gave way to dawn, so did the sadness give way to determination. It was indisputable—Newt would find Emily, or else lose control, lose himself, lose everything. Before the others could wake, he'd finished packing all of his things. Even if it meant searching every corner of every room and lab of W.I.C.K.E.D, he'd do it without complaining, although every second spent inside the hellish facility squeezed the air and life out of him.

To Newt's frustration, the others put off carrying out the search because of their hunger. However, Newt wasn't going to let anything get in his way—each moment lived in Emily's absence brought with it a new kind of insanity, crawling across his skin like a terrifying whisper, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike. Everything from his past seemed a thousand years away, the Glade, the escape, the Scorch, as though he'd just dreamed about his entire life until Emily came back to him.

Minho was holding something out to him—Newt snapped out of his reverie. A snack, one of their last. If Minho hadn't offered it to him, Newt was certain he would have forgotten to eat. Newt tore his way through it, though he couldn't feel much of hunger, not wanting to waste yet another minute. His impatience was growing greater, seconds counting down to an explosion. Staying still meant listening to the devious voice in his head that reassured him, over and over again, that Emily was long gone, that she'd left because of him, that by now she was surely lost, surely dead.

The boy quickly tapped his foot against the white floor, the sound echoing throughout the room. He could see the irritation on everyone else's faces, and he couldn't fathom it—didn't they also want to find her? Was he the only one who cared?

At the end of his wits, Thomas stood abruptly. "C'mon, guys, let's go," he demanded, glancing at everyone else in the group. Once everyone got to their feet, he cocked his head towards the corridor and looked over at Newt, who offered him a short, thankful nod.

Everyone was staring at Newt—it was more than clear that he was in charge, especially of this particular mission. "Every single bloody room," he told them. "Even the smallest ones. Look for any traces of her."

He turned, certain that the Group would trail behind, and stepped forward.

* * *

The hours that passed felt to Newt like a heavy infinity weighing him down. Emily seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. Every door Newt opened, every light he switched on, every empty room that revealed itself to him took a toll on his hope.

Light footsteps came from Newt's right. He looked down at Chuck—now taller and slightly slimmer, Chuck had started to resemble a soon-to-be fourteen-year-old. "Newt," he said with a weary sigh, "what if we don't find her?"

Newt shook his head, and spoke, as if willing it into existence, "We're gonna find her, Chuck. We're going to find her."

Chuck only sighed again and gave Newt a hint of a smile. Newt had always known he wasn't the only one who cared about Emily—she was like an older sister for Chuck, an actual relative for Isabelle, a good friend for Minho and, possibly, no longer Ella's enemy. Newt didn't want to think about what she meant for Thomas.

After meticulously scouring every room they came across for what Newt believed was over six hours, Newt was aware he had to pause the search. He instructed everyone to take a break. The food Minho gave him, he handed over to Chuck. Nobody spoke when it wasn't truly necessary—it seemed as though Emily had been the one keeping the group together, the one who always put a stop to their meaningless conflicts (even though sometimes she was the very cause for them). Newt couldn't put into words how much he missed the old times, when Emily was there for him. He just wished he would've stayed that night when she'd asked him to leave. Wished he would have stepped closer to her and confessed his feelings, told her everything. What if it would have aided her in remembering? What if hearing what Newt longed so badly to say would've triggered something in her brain?