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Chapter 46: 🐐

Olivia's Pov

I hated not being able to talk. There were so many things I wanted to say to so many people, but stupid Clint and Jeff wouldn't let me speak a single, measly word.

It eventually got to the point that Newt decided to give me a notebook and pencil so I could write down what I wanted to say.

Gally knew how much I hated being the only one who couldn't talk, so he offered to stop speaking too, but I told him it was ok and that he didn't have to do that; he wouldn't be able to cope anyway, mainly because of his temper.

I'm cooking dinner with Frypan, when I suddenly have an idea. We need a pet.

"I need to go" I croak out, being too impatient to write what I needed to say down. My voice is scratchy and raw, and hurts to use, but I had to ask the Creators for pet now, otherwise I would forget.

"You're not supposed to be talking, Olivia!" Fry sighs. I shrug in response, then run out, grabbing my notebook and paper. I find a quiet place in the forest, then start writing.

Dear Creators,

Not gonna lie, I hate you because you had some bright idea to wipe all my memories and throw me in a weird place with no escape thats designed to kill me and, on top of all that, put loads of yucky, smelly, annoying, loud, sweaty boys in here with me. So, for that, I hope you all die a horrible painful death at the hands of those bloody Grievers you made. I hope they tear you apart, limb by limb, showing no mercy. I hope that you're alive, but barely. I hope you want all your pain and suffering to end, but there's nothing you can do about it because you're too weak to move, and there's no one to help you. I hope your death drags out, and I mean reeeeeaaalllyyyy drags out. Or, if that doesn't sound appealing to you, just shoot yourself in the head and blow your brains out :)

Anyway, now that the greeting and the formalities are out of the way, here's the thing: I want a pet goat. Why? Because goats are awesome. And very, very cute. If you don't give me a goat, then I will resort to plan B: become a goat myself. Trust me when I tell you this, that isn't a sight you want to see AT ALL.

The goat will be black, with a white beard and white stripe going down it's face, with white rings just before its hooves. It will have blue eyes (I don't know if a goat can even have blue eyes, but if you can do all this shit that you already have, I'm sure you can change a goat's eye colour). It will be a girl, because boys are stupid and there's way too many of them. I don't need any more dicks coming up in that Box. I also want it to be a girl, because she will understand me and I can talk to her about girl things. Besides, boys are a smelly nuisance.

Also, I want my goat to have really pointy horns. Like, make sure they're so sharp that they can easily piece human skin. This way, I can use it to my advantage and get my goat to attack any annoying Gladers, and no one can punish me for it because it wasn't me who attacked them (they don't need to know that I ordered the attack).

From,

Olivia.

P.S.  Jump off a cliff :)

I rip my letter out of the notepad then reread it, but realise that it's probably a little bit too violent, so I write a nicer version and rip that one out too. I put both of them under my pillow to wait for tonight so I can drop it down the tunnel that the Box comes up without anyone seeing me.

Jeff comes and finds me to tell me I should start using my voice gradually, and I start dancing about, celebrating the fact I can finally talk.

At around midnight, I gently free myself from Gally's grip after he fell asleep hugging me, being careful not to wake him up, grab my letter, then walk over to the Box.