Secrets | TMR | One

6:2

Adeline resided herself to the confides of her bedroom for the rest of the morning, and long into the afternoon. Combing through the dust and debris that remained in her mind after the conversation she had with Nick, with her eyes latched on to her toes as she continued to flutter them back and forth.

He knew.

He knew this whole time.

Should she be angry?

It certainly does not feel right for her to be angry at the boy. After all, he would have never had to keep his secret had it not been for her.

The lie began with her.

Nick is just the poor bastard that got caught up along the way.

There is, of course, a small hint of rage. Microscopic splodges of resentment stuck at the forefront of her mind. Like dead bugs on a windscreen. Not noticeable to begin with but, once you are aware of their presence... Once the roads have cleared, and you are driving through the countryside, with vast open fields stretching as far as your eyes can see, and above you is nothing but swirls of white clouds against a blue sky.

Well, those dead bugs quickly become the only thing visible.

But, driving through a busy town? The streets laced with people shuffling around with their arms stretched up and umbrellas held high. Head lights and brake lights that glisten and shimmer through the thick pellets of rain that barrel from the pitch black sky, bouncing and splattering against your windows. That is when you realise that a dead bug on the windscreen is easy to disregard.

And, much like travelling through a busy town, Adeline found that her chaotic thoughts were easily drawn away from the fact that Nick knew.

It hardly seems important now, anyway.

There are far more pressing matters that must be dealt with.

Like Henry.

Her friends mind is being subjected to heaven only knows what kind of torture at the hands of the creators, who really do not seem to give a shit about anything other than getting her back.

She has not the faintest idea as to what is going on just outside the door of the Homestead. For all she knows, the builder could be dead. Maybe the two Med-Jacks were unsuccessful with their chore of stitching him up? He could have passed due to blood loss. Perhaps he broke free? Ran into the maze and is now roaming the concrete corridors, searching for a griever to put him out of his misery.

Adeline dreads the thought.

As her mind flutters over the notion of the builder traveling through that labrinth, it dawns of the girl, that Nick has been gone for hours.

He does not know what she is doing right now, and that brings to her the most perfect plan.

She could leave.

Right now.

Nick would not know. Shit, nobody would know. She could sneak out the front door, feigning the illusion that she is just nipping to the loo, and will be back in a minute. Then, she could hobble in through the West door and the Gladers would be none the wiser.

Shuffling her backside on the bed, Adeline reaches behind her to grab a hold of her brace and yank it forward. She makes quick but careful work of hoisting her leg into the contraption, being sure to not twist her ankle into any awkward positions as she shimmies the wood and fabric up her calf. Hopping from the bed, the girl wiggles her hips, pulling the straps up and adjusting the brace before looping her arms through the holes and securing it on her shoulders. Adeline snatches her crutches from the beside the window and stuffs them under her armpits, keeping her left one glued to it as she lifts her wrist up to check the time.