Secrets | TMR | One

4:8

What the fuck is going on.

That is what Nick thinks to himself as he lays on his bed, on his back with his left leg bent and the inside of his ankle lightly grazing against his right knee. With one hand on his exposed chest, and the other one tucked behind the back of his skull, keeping his head propped up at an angle, his eyes boring into the wall at the other side of the room.

This thought has been swirling in his mind for days now. Ever since, he too, was possessed by the same demon that has locked many a Glader under its spell.

Lifting his left hand from his chest, the boy draws it up to his head, his fingers gently trailing along the bandage that is wrapped tightly around his skull.

It happened four days ago.

There he was, stood in his room with nothing but a damp towel covering his modesty and small beads of water laced over his chest and back. Hunched over his dresser, his hands deep in the drawers as he sifts through his clothes to find a shirt - a faded blue one, to be exact. With two buttons at the middle of the collar, which he had never chosen to fasten since Adeline informed him of how nice it looked when it was left to gently fold over on each side.

Of course, it is his favourite shirt. But it only came to be so after he clocked the way Adeline would look at him when he wore it, and how she was forever complementing how well it went with his tanned complexion, and how it made it hazel eyes "pop" - as she liked to put it.

He remembers tearing every garment out of the drawers, and silently cursing Adeline when he noticed that she had stuffed her clothes in with his, and how he kept picking up her shirts instead of his own.

Then, time seemed to jump. Fast forwarding, like a glitch in the system.

Nick remembers feeling slightly nauseous, as though his brain had been torn out, bounced around like a tennis ball, and pushed back into his skull.

The room was spinning, like his body had been stuffed into the inside of a tire and thrown down a steep hill.

He recalls throwing his right hand on the dresser to steady himself, while his left hand flew up to clutch his head, only for it to flinch back moments later when he felt that his forehead was soaking wet.

Not with water, but instead, with blood.

And as he furrowed his brows and began looking around the room, he realised that the wooden wall just to the right of his dresser was also stained crimson.

He did not know what to do at the time, for nobody else in the Glade had mentioned that they had gone through something similar.

So rather than panic the others, he simply told them all he fell.

But as the days went on, and more and more boys were complaining about situations that they had also found themselves in, Nick decided to finally speak up.

Of course, he had only mentioned it to a few. Clint, Jeff and Henry were his chosen group of secret keepers.

Nick did not even tell Adeline of his misfortune, or Alby - who he knew would end up blabbing to the girl. Not out of malice, though, but out of concern for his friend.

However, keeping Adeline in the dark was simply because he had a sneaking suspicion that it was something to do with her.

Not that she did it, no. But because of what she told him in the maze.

The fact that she divulged her deepest secret to him, and only weeks later do boys begin acting strangely. Hurting themselves with no recollection and doing things they would not normally do.