Everywhere, Everything ◆ Thomas ◆ TMR

002 - Petra The Pig

She squinted her eyes as they stepped outside, still used to the softer light in the building. She blinked a few times, trying to make her eyes adjust faster. It was then that the reality of her situation, that she really was the only girl started to sink in.

Everyone in sight had stopped what they were to stare at her. The boys who hadn't yet looked were all nudged into attention. Their gazes burned from all sides, and she had to swallow hard around the lump forming in her throat. She felt like a sheep amongst lions. She found herself unconsciously stepping closer to Newt, trying to hide behind his tall stature.

"So, why are we here?" She asked. He turned to her slightly, but only for a moment. "Like if I was supposedly sent up here to save Nick, they must need you for something, right? But why erase your memories, then?"

"We actually tried to ask you that," he said with a sad quirk of his mouth. "But you said you weren't allowed to tell us anything, that it was one of the conditions Wicked had set."

"Wicked?" She questioned, the name rolling off her tongue with a chilling familiarity.

"The creators," he shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Keep forgetting you don't know."

She frowned, thinking over the rest he'd said. Conditions. It was one of the conditions Wicked had set, as if she had demanded to be here. "So, they weren't originally gonna send me here?"

"Shuck if I know," he shrugged. She stopped walking, so abruptly that Newt stumbled in shock. He looked at her worriedly, hands raised slightly like he believed she was going to fall over.

She blinked, heart aching. "Does that mean I worked for them?"

"I think so," he shuffled his feet. "And fair warning - a lot of people here might not trust you because of that."

"Do you?" She asked hesitantly.

"You didn't exactly seem happy with the creators when you showed up here." He smiled softly. He contemplated her a moment, then shrugged. "And you don't have your memory anymore. Whoever you were before no longer exists."

She nodded. Somehow, the simple fact that Newt had faith in her was enough. She didn't feel like she might be a bad person - the thought of hurting someone else seemed terrible to her. "Thank you."

He nodded and started walking again. Her feet dragged against the grass as she followed. This had been one hell of a thing to wake up to. She had to get to know herself all over again, but some part of her thought she might be glad they had erased her memory. She was scared that the person she was before was not one she'd have liked to know.

They made their way to the middle of the glade, to a patch of cement in the grass. There was a big hole, carved in a square. It was covered only with a crate door. The hole was incredibly dark and stretched longer than the eye could see. Looking down it made her stomach unsettled, and she had to take a step back to stop the bile threatening to rise in her throat.

"This is the box," he explained, gesturing to the hole. "This is where, once a month, with the little exception of you, we get a new Greenie. And once a week it comes up with supplies."

"Greenie?" She asked.

"Other word for Newbie," he grinned. "The glade's cut into four sections. Gardens, Blood House, Homestead, Deadheads," he explained, pointing at the places as he talked. The gardens were a luscious place of plants and fruits, a little greenhouse and even a field for crops.

The Bloodhouse was more like a barn - where she assumed the farm smell came from - the Homestead was the unsteady building in which she'd woken up and the Deadheads, as ominous at that sounded, was a green forest in the corner.