The Inventor

Chapter Fifty Nine; "Blood for blood"

     Chuck's body convulsed and you knew you had let out a horrified scream of your own. You fell down with him, hands jerking but there was nothing to do. Blood fell from his lips, that was internal damage you couldn't heal with simple remedies.

     Thomas was there too, looking frantically for something to do while he gripped Chuck's arm. He flailed around, limbs jumping , shaking, blood forming a rapid puddle on the floor.

     You had his face in one hand, making sure he saw you.

     "Give me a second, I can help you!" You pleaded, "Can you stay awake for me little man?"

     He tried to concentrate on you, eyes going in and out of focus before they rolled in the back of his head. You screamed at him, keeping a harsh grip to keep him awake.

     "Don't close your eyes!" You screamed.

     His body stilled, eyes coming into a hazy focus again, focusing on you and Thomas.

     You remember being told that once a pool of blood got to a certain size, there was no saving the victim. And, subconsciously, you knew it was far beyond that size but you were sure there was something these scientists behind the glass could do. They had created this maze, they had to have the technology to do it.

     Chuck grasped your hand, and you held it back, nodding at him.

     "Good job, just keep holding on, you'll get help," You encouraged. Thomas called for someone to come forward, to drag Chuck to medical and save his life. But there was no one coming.

     You began to shake from Chuck's grip, his hand trembling. Carefully, he dragged your hand to place it over the fanny pack strapped around his waist.

     "Family?" He gurgled, choking on his own blood.

     You nodded, taking your own hand to wipe his face of the blood that began to spill from the corners of his mouth.

     "Family, little man, you're my family. I love my family," You said, your speech being suffocated by the clench in your throat. You tightened every muscle, stopping yourself from breaking down on him.

     "I love my family too," He muttered, "Tell them..."

     His voice dropped off, hand suddenly losing its grip when his head fell to the side. He was limp, limp and dead.

     You stared at him, mouth open to take in ragged breaths.

     "Chuck?" You whispered, "Little man?"
    
     No response.

     You breathed in, one long breath, shutting your eyes and leaning onto him. Thomas was on his feet now.

     A horrid noise wretched itself from your throat, like a dying, wailing animal. It was pitiful and pained, cutting off to a choking sound as you tried to swallow it back. So much guilt and grief hadn't ever been shoved into one place, nothing you could set aside for survival.

     Then, you hear Thomas let out an enraged cry and the sound of a fight disperses. You opened your eyes, staring at Thomas beating Gally to a pull but you couldn't find anything in you to stop him. Your attention shifted to the nice standing stoutly out of Chuck's chest.

     You felt a bitterness swell in your Chest, hatred festered up, vengeful hate. The same feeling that kept you alive after your accident, what drove you to stab Minho.

     You didn't just want an eye for an eye anymore, you wanted to kill everyone behind that glass.

     Your eyes shifted up to the woman who was quietly observing the fight between Thomas and Gally. Newt and Minho were already running forward to pull them apart.