monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 19

Chapter 19
Survivor's Guilt

Florence was silent as she and Teresa were escorted through three doors and a dozen hallways to a medical lab. The guys were already there, spread out across several different stations while scientists and doctors pored over clipboards and blood samples.

A short, strawberry blonde woman in a white lab coat approached the girls, introducing herself as Dr. Miller. “Follow me,” she gave Florence a disarmingly bright smile and steered her away by the elbow. Florence and Teresa glanced nervously at each other as the latter was directed to an exam table across the room.

Florence folded her hands in her lap, staring at a nondescript brown smudge on the floor as Dr. Miller snapped on a pair of gloves and began preparing a syringe. She rattled on about what was in the vitamin cocktail as she worked, but the words were no more than a dull buzz in Florence’s ears.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Dr. Miller stepped in front of Florence, her pristine white sneaker covering the spot on the floor; the term of endearment caught her off-guard, mostly because it sounded genuine. “Can you stick out both your arms for me?” Florence complied, forehead creasing in confusion as she watched Dr. Miller prod at her skin with a gloved finger. “I can’t find a vein, can you move this band so I can take a look at the other arm?” 

Florence snatched her arm back like Dr. Miller had hurt her. The doctor’s unrelenting smile shrank to a thin line, and the corners of her mouth downturned in the way peoples’ mouths only did when they pitied someone. “I’m not gonna take it away from you.” Florence unlaced the cuff slowly, avoiding the doctor’s gaze as the syringe pricked her skin. “I know how difficult it can be to lose someone,” the doctor said when she was done.

Florence looked up from making sure Gally’s note was secure. “How did you know?”

“The way you carry yourself. The way your friends keep staring at you like you're a time bomb. Especially those two.” Dr. Miller gestured to where Minho was jogging and Newt was getting his blood drawn. "The blond one asked where you were three times." Then she pointed to the cuff. “And how protective you are of that. I have something similar.” She stuck her thumb under the collar of her shirt and pulled out a thin chain, on which dangled a silver ring. “This belonged to my fiancée. I lost her to the Flare about a year ago.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Florence muttered, which didn’t quite cover it. Losing a close friend was hard enough, she couldn't imagine what it must have been like to lose someone she loved in that way. Especially to the Flare, which seemed to take people slowly. 

Dr. Miller’s smile returned, less forced this time. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. Your existence alone is proof that we can help thousands of people like her.” She tucked the necklace under her shirt, plucking a plastic cup and two white pills from her tray. “Take these, and you’re free to go.” So focused on Dr. Miller’s loss and her own, Florence swallowed the little pills without complaint. She didn’t even notice that her rising tension headache began to fade away. 

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Dr. Miller couldn’t have been past her 30s, but she seemed to carry wisdom beyond her years. Or maybe grief just aged people. “Promise me you won’t let your loss consume you, okay? These,” she tapped her neck and Florence’s wrist, “should be mementos of love, not guilt.” Florence just nodded, unsure if she could hold it together long enough to speak. Dr. Miller smiled at her one last time, squeezing her arm like she was trying to transfer her own peace of mind. And as she walked away to join a group of doctors, Florence did feel a little bit lighter; that seemed like a good place to start.