𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓽 - ᴀ ᴍᴀᴢᴇ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ

Chapter Twelve- Addy

I wrestle internally for control over my shaking fingers. The trigger is so smooth beneath my tips and the parasite inside my brain longs to pull it.

"Addy, why? What's going on?" Thomas asks.

"Move!" I demand, my voice quaking.

Tommy shuts up and keeps his head down as we move forward. Sonya casts me a questioning look that asks if I'm ok, but I'm not ok and I can't tell her that.

We reach the cave, just as WICKED directed, and find a jumble of blankets and extra food. A gift in exchange for doing as we were directed. The Gladers have faded so far into the background that they're hardly discernible as more than just specks of a slightly different shade of beige.

My heart hurts when I realize how few of them are left. Luckily, I saw the boys I was closed to; Minho, Frypan, Chuck- wait, where was Chuck?

"He's- " Thomas' voice cracks as he answers my question. "He's dead. Gally killed him. He took the blow for me."

The already broken fragments of my heart suddenly splits more. How could they do this? How could they let this happen? Chuck was innocent! He didn't deserve this!

"Tie him up there," I say, pointing to a pale stick of a tree. "I'm going to clear my head."

Immediately after I turn my back, Thomas starts whispering to the closest girls about why they should help him. He seems to have given up trying to convince me, but if he can sway the other girls to turn against me, that's good. Then I won't be to blame for the failed mission and they won't be able to hurt Newt. Like they hurt Chuck.

I wander into the desert scene and slump to the ground, filled with mental and physical lassitude. My limbs shake uncontrollably and fat tears roll down my cheeks. I can't do this anymore. Chuck. I can't let more people get hurt. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't!

A raw guttural scream claws it's way through my throat and I pull my knees up, burying my fingernails into the skin of my shins. My sobs hitch and catch, gurgling out of my mouth. A taunting, mocking pain mutilates my brain, as though parasites eat holes into the gray matter.

"Addy!" Harriet runs out to help me, anxiety dripping down her face. "What's wrong?"

My voice is abraded and gruff. "Leave me alone!" I scream, pearly tears streaming down my cheeks.

The other girl looks shocked, but backs away quickly, leaving me to break down in peace. And break down, I do.

I tug at my hair, screaming into the night with no filter. I don't know what's wrong with me. No, that's a lie. I do know. I have the Flare. It's amplifying the panic attack. I have the Flare and I'm going to die. Where I should feel fear or sadness, a twisted satisfaction takes it's place. Good. I'll be done with this soon. Hopefully sooner than later.

---

I wake up to find myself sprawled along the sand, the tiny grains sticking to my wet cheeks and tangled hair. It's time. The voice in my head whispers. I stand, almost robotically, not bothering to brush off the particles or attempt to comb my fingers through my hair. Instead, I march back to Tommy and the girls, embracing the crazy look, and pull a machete out on my brother.

"Get up," I say. "We're leaving."

Thomas does and moves where I point him, his curious eyes are filled with terror at the sight of me, but I'm numb to all emotion.

Sonya falls to my side and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Addy, what's wrong? Let me help you."

I shrug her off. "I'm fine." Except for the leeches in my brain.

"Addy, talk to me!" Sonya persists, jogging to keep up with my quickening pace.

"I said I'm fine!" I persist, whipping my head to face her. "Let's just get this over with and it will be fine." Except I'll die, my brother is likely to be tortured, Newt will probably be killed, and who knows what will happen to the Gladers and these girls.

What hurts the most is that I'll die without ever seeing Newt. I can't see him again. I'll give him the Flare if I get near him. The last thing I want to do is subject him to the same mental torture I experience now. The second to last thing I want to do is force my brother into this room, but that's what I have to do if I want to save him.

Tommy struggles, but I manage to get him into the room as it fills with a strange green smoke. They aren't going to really hurt him, are they?

Why wouldn't they? They had no problem hurting Newt and Chuck. I can't let it happen again. No. I can't. I won't. Mind made up, I pull at the door in a sudden frenzy of madness and regret, but it won't budge. It's too late for Thomas. I've already sentenced him to whatever WICKED pleases, but I won't let it happen to anyone else. I'll stop them. I'll get revenge, I vow.