When The Storm Comes (When We're Older alternative ending)

survival of the fittest

Mae

I miss the days where I was woken up by the warm summer breeze. The birds chirping outside of my window, or the comforting chatter of others as they discussed what work was to be done. When I would turn over and see my lover beside me, half his face eaten by the pillow beneath his head while his mouth was slightly open with the symptom of sleep. His blonde hair would be fanned above his head, messy from the night's rest. We'd wake up silently—sharing a quiet kiss before melting into each other as we struggled not to fall back into a peaceful slumber.

My mornings used to be filled with so much calm and serenity.

It was all I could think about as I reluctantly rose to consciousness, feeling a continuous harsh poke in my side. Still groggy from my surprisingly heavy sleep, I groaned and pushed my face further into the soft pillow.

"Newt, quit it." I muttered, my words molding together.

The poking didn't stop. Becoming more frustrated with every jab, I yelled into the pillow and pinched my eyes shut, not yet wanting to join the rest of the world. Newt would never wake me up by poking my side—the only person I could think of who would do that would be Chuck.

"Oh my god, I'm up—" Finally rising out of my slumber, I sat up quickly and turned around, not expecting to be face to face with a head of dark black curls.

Immediately realizing that the person who had been poking me was not Newt, I gasped and scooted away, letting out a soft yelp when my back hit the dark headboard. I quickly glanced around, the memory of what had happened in the past 24 hours came back as I calmed my breaths. I remembered being captured by WICKED and taken to this house. I remembered being hosed down by Jansen and I remembered finding Newt's journal in the pocket of the uniform. A few minutes after being left in this room, I made my way over to the bed, falling asleep the second my head hit the silk pillow. They must have let me sleep through dinner, for the sky outside the window was lit with the warm glow of the morning sun.

The room was nice—I would have enjoyed staying here if I didn't know I was being held hostage by the organization that ruined my life. The floors were a dark hickory, contrasting with the white walls and the velvet red drapes decorating the windows that reached all the way to the ceiling. I fell asleep in the middle of a four poster bed, not even bothering to cover myself with the heavy comforter. The boy who had been poking me was sitting near the right side of the bed, his legs crossed while he held a look of strong judgement on his chiseled face.

"Who the hell are you?" I breathed, not fond of sharing a room with someone I've never seen before.

The boy sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I might ask you the same question. New?"

I paused, but nodded, figuring that if I were to answer a few of his questions, he'd answer a few of mine. That's usually how it worked.

"Are you new?" I asked him in return.

"What's your name?" He only threw me another question.

I furrowed my brows. "I asked you first."

"I've been here two years. What's your name?" He said flatly.

Two years? This place has been here for two years and I'm just now learning about it? Vince said he knew the location of every WICKED building, not once did he mention one in the middle of nowhere—

"Hello?" The boy broke me out of my thoughts, demanding a response. "I asked you a question..."

I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance. "Mae."

He hummed and looked me up and down, distaste written all over his face. "Mae." He repeated, testing how the name sounded rolling off his tongue.

"And yours?" I tried to ask him another question.