Everywhere, Everything ◆ Thomas ◆ TMR

008 - Dying Versus Dying

It took all of their combined strength to hold Ben down when he started thrashing.

His veins popped against his sickly pale skin. His mouth was stretched wide open in hallowing screams of agony. It was so bad that for a second, she really did start to doubt whether she'd made the right decision.

Alby had not yet had a chance to process, using everything he had to hold down Ben's arms, trying to keep his scratching fingers closed to his chest. Ari feared that the second they had him under control, the leader would call upon a banishing.

Her heart was pounding harder than it ever had as she stepped back in shock, watching Newt, Alby, Clint and Jeff work together to hold the last boy down. All of them were wearing hard expressions and she knew they would soon be turned on her.

She swore she wouldn't think to give Ben the serum if she thought it would hurt him. But what if it had? What if there was poison inside that vial, and the instinct she'd had was to hurt and not to heal. What if she really was everything she'd feared, and she really was so evil to the core that it had sustained even through her memory loss?

Her legs had started shaking underneath her, and she couldn't feel her fingertips. It was like the world was fading in and out, and she wasn't quite sure where she was.

She was having one of those moments, where everything suddenly feels very real. It was like waking up from a dream. As soon as Ben screamed, her body jerked into reality and she could feel everything, like she'd abruptly come alive or had only just become aware of it.

This; Ben, in pain, screaming and crying his throat raw as he convulsed in the boys' hold, was real. It was something that had just happened. She had made a mistake that she couldn't take back. It was real, it was happening, and she couldn't run from it. She couldn't hide. She would never be able to forget.

The weight of the outcome, whatever it was, would always be her burden.

Her feet moved before she thought about it, stumbling with the spinning world. Her breath was coming in heaves now, a cold sweat running down her back. She opened the door so violently it wouldn't have surprised her if it flew off its fragile hinges.

A body collided with hers as she rounded the corner, but she pushed it aside and almost fell down the stairs in her haste. His voice called out behind her, but it sounded so far away there could have been miles between them.

The still air rushed against her face, her hair blowing back as she leaped, feet moving unsteadily over the grass.

She really thought she was doing something good. She really thought that she was saving him. Clint and Jeff had put their faith in her and she'd failed them. She thought nothing bad could come from injecting the strange unknown liquid into their friend's system, because if they didn't, he would die. And if they did, either he would live, or he would die.

Dying versus dying – it didn't seem to matter.

But this wasn't dying versus dying.

This was dying versus dying in pain.

It did matter. Because she hadn't saved him, she hadn't simply done something that would've been of no consequence. She'd made it worse. So much worse.

She collided harshly with a branch, leaving a stinging pain on her cheek. The further she delved into the forest, the thicker the carpet of leaves became. The cold sweat was turning warm in the humid air, twigs crunching underfoot.

The deadheads were usually so calming. Quiet and solitary. She'd always used it as an escape from the prying eyes of the glade boys. But, she realized, as she crouched over suddenly, gagging around the bile burning her throat; she could not escape from this.