SHE FELT LIKE THE LONE SURVIVOR, ONE THAT HAD LIVED TO TELL THE TALE ABOUT HOW THE WORLD HAD COME TO AN END. THE TALE OF A STORY WITH MEMORIES THAT HAD BEEN ERASED FROM HER EXISTENCE
status: on hold/work in progress
the maze runner - the death cure...
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It was her hidden consciousness trying to warn her, a fear the Swipe had amplified; a side effect the chip gave them. For her it had been the nurturing side strongly mixed with the fear of needles and injections, for Minho it had been his humour and for Newt it had been his thoughtfulness. For Thomas his curiosity and perhaps even his uncontrollable rebellious side, Frypan's kindness and Winston's calm demeanour to name a few: treats they all had before entering the Maze but remained as strengthened characteristic traits after losing all they once knew. But the girl didn't know a past trauma triggered the response, the panic attack the sharp object caused her to have. She hadn't know the serum would cause the chip the malfuction in such ways the system would still pick her up but for the swipe to be cracked in ways WICKED had not known could be done. Fact was the woman herself hadn't known if it worked as effectively as she wished it to, for she could only hope it wouldn't kill Elizabeth.
A groan came past her lips, eyes struggling to open at once as they searched for a clear view until they focused on the shadow above her. Newt? The seventeen year old frowned, long forgotten what had happened only seconds before and how she lost consciousness as she could only question why had seen been the on the floor? Distant voice of Frypan asking if she were alright, a question to which she quietly mumbled a yeah, hand drawing up to her head shortly wishing to wipe the foggy feeling she had, the urge she had to sit up that came with it.
"You gave us quite the scare, love." The girl pushed herself onto her elbows, hands fast to grip on her arms to steady her. It wasn't until then she felt the fresh wounds of skin pulling at the movement, that needles had been punctured into her skin when she had been unconscious, she realised they somehow managed to draw blood and inject the vitamin serum in the minute she was out for the count, in the short seconds the Gladers rushed to their friend's aid.
The girl looked sheepishly at her friends, "I don't think I like needles."
Low chuckles spread amongst the crouching group, one in which she joined. To her it was silly she had passed out over something small as she had faced scarier things from Grievers to near death, death of friends and the feeling she was drowning. Yet she had panicked and fainted over such thing as a needle. Winston mentioned how she'd feared the needles needless to say for a fact, almost given him a heart attack the second the seat she had sat directly next to where he had just received a shot, went from a calm seventeen year old to a girl who tried with all her might to breathe and failed.
