𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, thomas ³

𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏, code

REDEMPTION.
[ chapter fifteen ]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

IN FACT, Evelyn wasn't perfectly fine.

Half an hour before Thomas awoke, Evelyn's eyelids peel open and her eyes are met with a bright laboratory surrounding her. After rushing through a similar building not long before, Evelyn knows she's in a WCKD lab.

She swallows thickly, attempting to rise her hand to her stinging neck, but her wrists struggle to move away from a cold metal beam. Furrowing her brows, she finally looks down, noticing herself tied down to a simple metal chair. She shakes her head, hating the familiar feeling of having her limbs tied down as she attempts to kick her legs, but those too are bound.

She begins to shout, struggling frantically against the binds that constrict her. She lets out loud yells, writhing her body back and forth, but her wrists and ankles stay taped down securely, her fighting making no difference. So, she relaxes slightly and her lip quivers at the realisation of where she is. She's back in their hands, in his hands.

Quickly, she glances around the rest of the room, noticing she is the only one there. She begins to scan table tops, searching for some sort of weapon or utensil she can use to escape, but all she finds is scientific equipment. She attempts to look out of the large windows in search for someone, but every other room but hers is pitch black and empty.

Until, Janson is stepping through the door opposite her with his usual wicked smile and his hands tucked into his jacket. Evelyn hates the familiar feel of this situation as he begins to taunt her but she isn't listening.

Evelyn stares up his body. The same body that nearly beat her to death, in a situation just like this, leaving her with reminding scars. The same body that shattered her heart when he told her she murdered her own brother. The body that has terrified her  since the moment she stepped onto that train when she was seven. The same body that will do anything to watch her bleed and lose everyone she's ever loved. The body that belongs to the man that will never stop until she's been tortured to death at his feet.

His fingers snap centimetres away from her face and she flicks her gaze up to meet his directly. Her face is emotionless as she studies his excited expressions.

"Are you not listening to me, Evelyn?" Janson tilts his head, lowering himself down slightly to her level.

She remains silent, her lips sealed closed. She hates being so vulnerable under his stare, she detests the feeling of cowering from him. Until, her gaze lands on his wounded shoulder, the blood from it still staining his black jacket and she smirks slightly at the thought of hurting him.