The Spark. (Newt fanfiction)

Body Guarding.

Her P.O.V:

"Make sure she doesn't brake anythin'. Oh, and I have already warned the shanks, but nobody touches the girl. You're in charge for now. Find her some food and a place to sleep." These were the orders from Alby to Newt. After what the blonde took me to the kitchen, and that was when I realized I had no idea of when was the last time I actually ate, however I was starving. Felt like I could eat a whole cow!

"So you're my personal bodyguard, now?" I felt a little frustrated about not being entirely free, but I understood that someone needed to look after me. I was a dangerous animal after all, heh!

"Looks like it."

Once in the small room, I recognized Frypan, the rather nice guy from the gathering. While most of the Gladers were glaring at me, the cook, him, welcomed me with a wide grin. At least some people were genuine, here.

After waiting in line between a bunch of sweaty and brutal boys, Newt offered me a seat next to his. I ate in silence, under the oppressing stares of the others. The many questions bouncing in my head only waited for one thing: to be answered, but I had no idea where to start. As I was swallowing a piece of overcooked egg, I attentively observed blondie from every angle. Tall boy, muscled arms, square jawline and sharp traits. How on earth would this man be scared of heights? Mmh... None of my business, anyways. All of a sudden, his husky voice raised and I couldn't hold back a tiny jolt.

"Say, greenbean... Still don't remember yer name?" My name... So far I was used to be called 'Greenie' or whatever other Glader's slang nicknames, but now that I thought of it, I had absolutely no clue of what could my name be. However I tried I could not manage to remember anything, no matter how deep I dug into my mind. And whenever a memory seemed to surface, I never grabbed it in time. Everything kept slipping from my fingers.

"Nope!" I simply answered, popping the 'p' and making it sound like it was no big deal. But it was. The more time flew by, the more I was getting worried. What did my life look like two days ago? And what if I never got my memories back? Just thinking about all this made me sick. How could people be sadistic enough to do this to teenagers? Creators. That was how Alby and Gally called them. I needed to know more.

"So... Creators, huh? Heard Alby mention them, but I thought you didn't know who put us here," I began, not even waiting to finish my mouthful of egg.

"Mh. Don't know much 'bout them, but they're the ones who send supplies and klunk. Guess that's all we have." He was making his fork run along the round edges of his plate, again and again, blank staring at it. So the only way they knew about the creators was by the box... Wait...

 "Hey, have you ever tried-"

"Tried it." He cut me off. My lips showed a tiny hint of pouting as I arched an eyebrow. "Yup, I know exactly what ya were gonna ask, and what ya are going to bloody ask." Newt retorted.

 "Alright then, smartass, you know better." My eyes rolled, annoyed by his self-confidence. "So who are they really?"

"Dunno don't care. They're the buggin' klunkheads who put us here, and if I find them... No. When I find them, I'll be pleased to tear them apart. With my own bloody hands." The young man seemed to change of mood progressively, and little by little, I saw his expression turning bitter with anger. Without even saying another word, he stood up, hands banging against the table, and walked away. He looked so hurt or angry you could almost perceive dark clouds storming around him. Although, as he walked, I noticed a rather slight limp that I had never seen before (or maybe I hadn't paid enough attention). It didn't look like it hurt a lot, though bandages protected his ankle... Enough to arouse my curiosity. The keeper of the cooks, alerted by what just happened, caught Newt up under the inquiring gazes of the others, mine included.