Secrets | TMR | One

6:0

A/N This chapter is gonna be a super short one... sorry
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From the moment she hobbled out of the Medhut, and the fresh air of the open Glade twirled and dance around her body, Adeline felt her entire world shift.

She could feel Nick's hands on her, curving firmly around her shoulders. Could feel his soft breath drifting over her face as he lowered his head down to her level.

But she could not hear his voice.

Her brain had completely blocked out any outside interference, clogging up her eardrums so every sound around her became nothing more than muffled noise. Like a beaver building a dam, lodging itself deep within a mound of twigs and branches, and protecting itself from the predators that lurk in the outside world.

Much like that tiny rodent, Adeline's brain shielded itself from the naive optimism radiating from the boy in front of her.

The girl does not require the perception of sound to know what he is saying.

"I'm fine" she spits out, her vision flickering over every inch of his face, avoiding his eyes as best she can. "I'm okay. It's just- he was just spouting nonsense, I know. Don't worry about me, I, uh- you go back in, and I'm gonna go find Alby."

Briskly snatching her crutches away from Nick and stuffing them under her arms, Adeline says no more to the boy as she swivels her body around and practically flings herself away from him. Leaving the leader of the Glade stood by the entrance of the Medhut with an expression of sheer perplexity. He calls out to her, begging her to stop, pleading with her to listen to him.

Of course, she does not.

Adeline is all to aware of the fact Nick knows when she is lying, which is exactly why her eyes never strayed from his face while she spoke. Maybe if she looked at the tip of his nose, or the curve of his eyebrow, he would think she were actually looking into his eyes... right?

She very briefly flutters over this notion while she rushes through the thick grass. Her crutches do not slow down, her steps do not falter, and she disregards every cheery "good morning" that floats from the mouths of each Glader she passes. The minute she reaches the Homestead, Adeline barrels up against it. Using her brute strength and slamming her shoulder directly into the wood, giving no care whatsoever to the bruises she can already feel forming on her skin.

This is all your fault.

Adeline's head feels heavy under the weight of Henry's accusations. Her skull cracking and creaking under the pressure of his words, before shattering completely. Each letter stabbing into her, scorching themselves into her brain, like a farmer branding his cattle.

The words take ownership of her entire being.

Charging into her room, Adeline all but throws her crutches to the corner, hurling her body forward and grabbing on to the edge of the bed with so much force she can hear it scraping against the floorboards, and feel it shifting beneath the weight of her.

A sharp splint poking out of the frame slices through her hand, tearing into her skin and ripping open the faint scar that resided on the centre of her palm. But the girl does not even appear to notice, far less acknowledge this small, insignificant casualty, for her entire consciousness still finds itself locked on Henry - or rather, his allegations.

You started this.

When? When did she start it?

Adeline has not the faintest clue as to when this occurred.

She takes an unsteady step forward, shakily lowering her bum down until it cushions itself against the thick blankets that loosely dangle around the edge. Her hands curve tightly around the corner on each side of her body. So tight, in fact, that Adeline can feel small sparks of electricity burning through her wounded palm. This faint sensation, slowly searing its way through her veins only appears to make it half way up her arm before disappearing. Dissolving. Fizzling out.

The girls thoughts begin to go into overdrive. Miniature versions of herself scrambling around, scouring over every inch of her brain. Plucking out books containing each memory of her time in the Glade, frantically searching from cover to cover. Picking apart each entry and passage, analysing each work and dissecting every syllable.

Weeding out every possible slip-up.

Looking for something that could cause the creators to act out this way. Anything that could possibly hold her in contempt.

I mean, sure, there have been a few minor blips in the narrative. In the midst of a heated exchange between her and - whatever boy she chose to argue with that day - when Adeline had found herself on the brink of exploding. On the precipice of losing every ounce of discipline and restraint she has. Her every growing ball of self-control unravelling, like a roll of yarn fraying away.

But she has never said the words.

Has she?

No, she most definitely has not.

Unless...

Did she say it in the evening? During one of her nightmares? In a fear stricken state of complete and utter petrification, did she regurgitate the sentence, chew up the words and spit out the letters? Did she spill the beans?

Surely not. Surely, if she had spilled the beans, there would be some form of adverse reaction from the Gladers? A confrontation? Conflict? With the most possible outcome being banishment?

Adeline has heard nothing, but then again, she does choose to ignore all questions and inquires about her nightmares.

They want you back.

At that moment, Adeline whips her head up so fast it causes the muscles in her neck to twitch. Her hair, unruly and frazzled - much like her mind - swirls all around her face, looping around in circles on her cheeks, with stray wisps collecting at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She stares at the wall at the opposite side of the room, her lids lifting so high she can feel her pupils beginning to strain under the piercing rays of the sun shooting through the window and the cracks in the walls.

Then, she mumbles quietly. Lightly whispering five small words to herself as the realisation dawns on her.

The realisation that, it does not matter. That sitting here and mining through the lumps of metal and mineral in her brain for evidence that she has defied them will not deviate from that one simple fact.

That they want her back.

"I have to go back."

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A/N like I said... super short

But I feel like I needed to put in a chapter about how she processed it all