H E A L - the death cure

-Chapter XII-

He was doing okay. He'd slept in his own tent for almost an entire week. But then Evelyn hit a very critical condition and Thomas didn't leave her side after.

One month. An entire thirty days of the same thing, Thomas sitting on the same uncomfortable chair holding tightly to her same cold hand as he watched the same, slow rise and fall of her chest.

Carmen explained she should technically be fine and had the ability to wake up...she just wouldn't. And it was killing him.

     Countless hours of begging her to wake up, pleading with whoever had the power to bring her back to him, but she wouldn't budge.

     Against his wishes and mild hostility, Carmen had removed the oxygen tube from her nose claiming she didn't need it only furthering the worry he held for her. He saw nothing good happening if they took away her air, but still, things were left unchanged. It was as if she was playing a sick prank on the boy, having the ability to open her eyes but she never did.

     So, he took Clara's advice and just started talking...

     "Hey, Ev." He started with a ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he glanced up at her, his head then hung low as the sight of her was growing harder and harder for him to look at.

     "You've gotta wake up. I-I can't think straight anymore, I can't eat, I can't sleep." He closed his eyes tightly as unwanted tears came knocking again, and no matter how many times he'd shoo them away, they'd still break him down. "I don't know what to do."

     "I was wondering if you could maybe like...give me a sign or something. Maybe, just squeeze my hand?" Thomas lifted her hand up and let it rest in his own but it was completely limp apart from the small beat of her pulse. "Just show me you're still in there. Please." He stated wiping his eyes as he scooted a little closer and though Minho told him not to, he got his hopes up. "Come on, Evelyn. I need you."

     He kept her hand held up, his other one covering his mouth as he stared intently glancing between each of her fingers for a slight movement. Each minute passed was another fallen tear, and all hope he'd stored up was being drained.

     The same hope he had when staring into the innocent eyes of Chuck as he took his last breaths, thinking if he just waited a few more seconds he'd wake up and they'd escape together. The same hope he had when Newt had fell from his arms and laid on the ground with eyes open, maybe since they weren't closed he still had life in them.

     The same dying hope he had dangling in front of his face but it kept being yanked away with a harsh tug leaving him dead in the dirt.

     He shook his head purely out of irritation and carefully placed her hand back on the cot like it was a newborn infant before he stood to his feet, chest heaving.

     He couldn't take the silence, the coldness of her skin, the absence of her beautiful eyes staring back at his own. It was too much.

     Hands running through his already disheveled hair, tugging at the ends as he tries to calm himself down, Thomas paced the tent with no sound aside from his breath leaving his lungs at a rapid pace. He knocked down a few chairs lightly throwing a fit as to not disturb Evelyns slumber, though she wasn't exactly conscious, he knew she'd be scolding him right now if she were awake.

     Surely this couldn't be healthy, right? Getting angry over something completely out of his control though he felt like it was his own fault. It was never ending.

     Thomas stood across the tent now facing her from a mere ten feet away and he just stared. Like a kid thinking they had telekinetic powers, he stared and thought maybe she'd move.