Abused ≫ Newt [2]

Chapter 32.

White.
That's all she could see when she opened her eyes.
For a moment, she believed that she was dead. That this- wherever she was- was the "afterlife".
But then she realized she could move.
Could she move in death?
She sat up, realizing that she was laying on a bed. The bed was white, as was all the other furniture in the small room. She looked around her, rapidly blinking her eyes in attempt to adjust her vision to the brightness of the room.
A single fluorescent lightbulb dangled from the ceiling; this was enough to light the room to the point where it would be difficult to sleep.
There was little furniture in the room. A white side table beside the bed, on it a glass filled to the brim with water. A single stainless steel toilet in the corner, almost completely hidden. And a white desk, randomly sitting in the middle of the room. Not a chair, not a single thing on the desk. It was just there...
Perhaps she was going crazy. Or maybe it was only a dream, and she was asleep in the Homestead back in the Glade. Or perhaps she really was dead, and God just had an odd sense of humor when it came to the afterlife.
All these thoughts were running through her jumbled mind as she stood up. She looked down at her attire, shocked to see that she was no longer wearing her usual clothing, but a plain white hospital gown.
Wherever she was- whoever put her here, they must have really liked white.
She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, hesitating a moment before bringing it to her lips and gulping it down in just a few swallows. Perhaps whoever put her here poisoned the water... but at that moment, she did not exactly care. Anything would be better than sitting in the bright room any longer.
Her thoughts then went to the Glade. To Minho. To Thomas. To Jeff, Chuck, Alby... To Newt. Her heart twisted at the thought of all of her friends. But when she thought of Newt- the boy she loved- she felt as if someone had reached through her and grabbed her heart, ripping it right out of her chest.
What was he doing right now?
How long had it been since... whatever happened?
How was he handling it?
Was he crying?
Was he even still alive?
Gally had said that the Grievers would take one a night until they were all dead... Perhaps it had been several days since she had blacked out. If so, then how many more people died? Who died? She squeezed her eyes shut as the image of Newt throwing himself at a Griever crossed her mind. He wouldn't do that... Would he?
All of these thoughts ran through her mind, causing her head to spin, when there was a knock on the white door.
A moment later, the door swung open, its hinges squeaking as it did so. A man stood in its place, a creepy smile stretched across his thin lips. He was an older man, small, beady eyes, bony cheeks, thin lips, a thin layer of brown hair combed over his shiny, balding head.
Emily spoke before he got the chance to, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the mysterious man, "You should put some oil on that door."
"Hm, yes. That would be a good idea, Emily." And his voice. No, the voice.
Emily became lightheaded as everything began to fall into place. It was him. This was the man who was speaking to her in her mind. This was the man who terrorized her, "killed" her twice. This was the man who took her away from Newt.
"Emily, welcome back to WICKED."
"Who are you?" Emily asked weakly. Her voice shook with the rest of her body, her throat burning with every word she spoke. She felt weak, as if the last of her energy was slowly being drained from her body. The mysterious man's gaze burned into hers, a creepy grin twisting at his lips. It was almost as if he were enjoying watching her break down and cry.
"Right. It's my job to formally introduce myself." He shook his head once, his whole expression changing. For a moment, he looked like a totally different man. "My name is A.D. Janson. Assistant Director of the World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department- better known to you as WICKED. I am one of the highest officials in WICKED, just under Chancellor Paige- whom you will be meeting momentarily." He paused, set his papers down on the desk and took a seat in the white chair. "You may not remember this, at least not fully yet, but sun flares have scorched our earth. Millions of lives were lost due to this- almost half the population. Even more were lost due to sickness, famine. But what came afterwards was worse: a disease rose because of these sun flares. One that wiped out more people than you can ever imagine. We call it: the Flare. It attacks the brain, eating away everything that has ever made a person human. It is violent, unpredictable, incurable."
"Over time a new generation rose- one that could survive this deadly virus-" he pointed to Emily, shaking his finger violently several times. "You, Emily. You and everyone of your friends back in the Maze. We knew that there was hope for a cure, and we needed to find it. And you kids were our only hope."
"So you stuck us in a Maze?" Emily asked, disbelief lacing every single one of her words. None of it made sense to her- what was the point? "How would that help you find a cure? You killed innocent kids!"
"It was all for a reason, dear Emily," Janson stated. "It is all a test. You will understand someday, and you'll thank us for it."
"I will never thank you," Emily said through gritted teeth. She couldn't believe what this man was telling her. Even if it was true, did he expect her to be grateful? "You took innocent kids away from their family. You killed kids. And all because of a test?"
"Now, now, Emily." Janson eyed her clenched fists; he reached down and grabbed something out of his pockets, something she couldn't see. "You don't have to have an attitude. You're safe here."
"You took me away from my friends," she said harshly.
"Wouldn't you rather be safe here than in danger of being killed there?" Janson raised his voice in mock surprise, which only made Emily scoff.
"I'd rather be in hell than here with you," she retorted.
Janson laughed- a sick twisted laugh with no humor behind it. He fiddled with whatever was in his hand. "You are getting it all wrong. We're the good guys here, Emily. We're trying to save the entire human raise." his lips then relaxed, his small eyes darkening once more. "Besides, deep down, I know you'd rather be here than back in the Maze. I understand you care about those boys and all, but I know you wouldn't want to be dying... like Alby, Minho. Jeff, Clint. Chuck. Thomas. Newt."
"Newt is alive," Emily said quickly. Though she was trying to convince herself as much as Janson. "They are all alive."
"Don't be too sure of that. It won't be long until they're all dead," Janson said with a shrug. "Didn't you hear what Gally said? One a night until they are all dead."
"He didn't really mean that." Emily shook her head slowly. "Did he?"
"Why would he say it if he didn't mean it?" Janson laughed again- the sound made Emily's blood run cold. "Trust me, Emily, you should be thankful to us. We saved you from death."
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, longing for this man to just stop talking. She heard him laugh again, and she knew he was getting satisfaction out of her pain. She tried to stop, to pull herself together. But she just couldn't help but think about all of her friends dying. Of Newt dying.
"We were going to do the same to Newt," Janson went on. "But I'm afraid we might have been too late."
"Stop," Emily said through gritted teeth, her voice sounding almost like a growl.
"I think last night was the night." Though she couldn't see him, Emily knew Janson was sneering. "Or maybe it was tonight. Perhaps we'll let you watch tonight, see whose turn it is. Maybe you will get to see Newt one last time, not that it will be a happy moment. He'll be getting torn apart my Grievers, of course."
Emily couldn't take it anymore. She launched herself at Janson, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him to the ground. The man looked surprised at her sudden strength, and his dark eyes glazed over for a moment as his head came in contact with the floor. He quickly recovered, his thin lips pulling into an unamused smile as he thrashed out with his right hand.
Emily barely had time to process anything before a bolt of electricity shot through her body, paralyzing her from the neck down. A black metallic device was lodged into her shoulder, blue bolts of electricity shooting off of it occasionally.
Janson stepped back, chuckled lightly as he pulled something else from his pocket. A small dagger, its blade shining in the fluorescent light.
"I understand that you have lost your memories and all, but I kind of expected you to remember to never try and hurt me. Because you will never succeed." He brought the dagger down on to Emily's shoulder, digging it deep into her skin. Emily let out a cry of pain as he twisted the knife around, crimson colored blood seeping from the wound.
"Why are you doing this?" she hissed, tears blurring her vision from the sick man in front of her.
"Because you need to be taught a lesson, Emily," Janson said matter-of-factly. "You need to learn to be thankful to your saviors."
Emily didn't get a chance to answer. Janson pulled the dagger out of her shoulder and plunged it into her stomach.
Another shot of pain, this time worse than the last. Tears welled up in her ears, and she tried once more to move. But she was still unable to move. She felt a final stab of pain as Janson drew the knife from her body. She let out a deep groan- a mixture of pain and anger- as the man stepped back with a satisfied look twisted across his rat-like face.
"Next time," his voice shook as he spoke, which was odd considering Emily was the one who was injured. "Respect your elders."
Emily's vision blurred, her head pounding from the sudden blood loss. The last thing she saw was a small, twisted smile curling at the corners of Janson's thin lips, and then her vision went black.

+

When Emily awoke once more, she was alone. The same white room, the same white furniture, the same single, blinding fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling. But she was alone.
For a moment, she almost panicked. Almost went into a fit of rage. But before she could even move a muscle, she calmed herself.
She tried to sit up, but fell back down on the bed as a stab of pain shot through her stomach She lifted her head the best she could, stared at the irritated, red wound on her belly. Scarlet blood was seeping from the gash, staining the white bed sheets underneath her red. She was thankful for the little amount of color in the room, even if it was her own blood. Another stab of pain shot through her shoulder when she tried to move.
Another stab wound, bleeding just as bad as the other. She glanced around her body, searching for any more wounds Janson might have made when she was out. One in her leg, fresher than the other two. And another slash across her chest- almost as if Janson was planning on slitting her throat, though backing out at the last second. Her heart sank to her feet at the thought of dying- of the man killing her.
She hated him. She knew that for sure. She couldn't ever remember hating someone, even with the memory loss she suffered. Perhaps she did, but she did know that this hatred she felt towards Janson was the strongest hatred she ever felt.
She sat up in the bed, hissing in pain from the wounds all over her body, as the white metal door clicked open. She braced herself to fight, despite the horrible condition she was in, but she slowly felt herself relax as someone stepped into the room. Someone who was not Janson.
A boy- who looked to be no older than fifteen- slowly entered the room. Dark brown hair, shining blue eyes that darted up and down her body nervously.
Her muscles tensed again, unknowing of what this boy would do to her. The memories of George- of what he did- came crashing back to her, and she felt a rush of panic.
But as the boy spoke- his voice soft and calming and laced with a slight accent- she felt herself relax once more.
"Please don't be scared of me. I know what kind of situation you are in, but I'm here to help you, Emily."
"Who- who are you?" Emily's voice was scratchy, as if she hadn't used it in several days. Had she really been out that long?
"I knew you wouldn't remember me. I don't remember much of you, either." The boy's gaze dropped, a somber expression crossing his face. "My name is Oliver."
At the mention of this name, memories came flooding back to her like a tidal wave. She knew this boy.
"I know you," she said with a slight smile. "I don't remember much, barely any at all, but I know you."
Oliver walked across the room, slowly sat down on the bed beside her. "I need you to trust me, okay? I'm in the same situation as you are." He pulled up his shirt, revealing a very irritated looking wound, a dark scab forming over it.
Emily knew she shouldn't of trusted someone so easily, but something about him made her. "I trust you," she said.
"I came from a Maze, just like you. From a group that the Creators call 'Group B'," Oliver explained slowly. "Your group is called Group A. I was the first boy up in the Box, came only months after the first girls arrived. We're basically opposites, if you get what I mean."
"There's two mazes?" Despite what he just told her, that was all Emily could manage to ask.
"Yeah, and there could be even more," Oliver said with a scowl. "I'm not supposed to be here, so I can't stay long. If they ever found out that we saw each other, I don't even know what they would do to us."
"Why'd you come, then?" Emily asked.
"Because I needed to see you," he replied. "Janson told me you were in the building, and I just needed to see if it were true."
"Why us?" Emily choked back a sob as her thoughts drifted back to the Glade. To Newt. "Why did they take us?"
"I don't know, Emily," Oliver sighed. He reached over and rubbed her unwounded shoulder. "But there has to be a reason."
Emily jumped as a buzzing sound came from the hallway outside, followed by several voices and running footsteps. Oliver stood up quickly, flashed her an apologetic look as he began to make his way to the door.
"I have to go," he said. "But I promise you, I'll try my best to come and see you as much as I can. We're going to get through this together, alright?"
Emily nodded once, "Okay."
He flashed her a grin before cracking the door. He closed it again and turned back to her, "Until then, Emily."
And with that, in a mere second, he opened the door, slipped through and slammed it shut after him.
Emily stared after him, a small smile threatening to form on the corners of her mouth. She didn't know this boy all too well- what she did know about him was only a fuzzy memory of the past- but she liked him.
She laid back down on the bed, resting her hand on her wounded stomach, and closed her eyes. Her heart twisted as she thought about her friends back in the Glade. She thought about what Janson said, about the Grievers killing one Glader a night. How many nights has it been since then? How many people died? Who died?
It took several hours, but she finally felt herself drifting off into a light sleep, her dreams haunted with images of Newt, his familiar, comforting, accented voice echoing through her dreaming head.
Where'd you go, my princess? I miss you... I need you... I love you.

+

Oliver is played by Dylan Sprayberry (aka sexy hunkahunka) :)