How I survived in an all boys glade

Chapter Twenty-Six

- Oh, God... -

A week after Jack arrived in the Glade, he seemed to be blending in fairly well with some of the boys, but there was still tension between him and Newt, Theo, and Minho. They didn't trust him, and it was clear from the way they acted around him. Jack had tried out almost every job by now, except for being a Runner, since that was a position you had to prove yourself worthy of. But, as the days went by, Jack found a role that suited him: he became a slicer, much like Winston, and took to it with surprising skill.

I had even tried to warm up to him, tried to give him a chance, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off about him. It wasn't just his constant presence that unnerved me—it was the way he watched me. Every time our eyes met, there was this calculating look in his gaze. He'd quickly look away, always with that smug, little smirk. It was almost like he was playing a game with me, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn't shake the sense that I was losing.

I focused on my duties, keeping myself busy in the Glade, hoping the feeling would go away, but Jack's presence was a constant weight. Even when we were alone, he'd find a way to strike up a conversation, or worse, ask for my help with something, his eyes always too intense, making my skin crawl. Each interaction felt like a trap, and every time he came near, I felt like I was walking on thin ice.

One day, after lunch, when I was helping in the blood house because Winston had gotten sick, Jack caught me off guard. As I was chopping up the meat, he suddenly turned to me with that unnerving look in his eyes. "You know, I can tell you're different from the others," he said, his voice smooth and almost too calm. I stopped mid-cut, my knife hovering over the meat as I looked at him, unsure of how to respond.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though my heart was already racing in my chest.

"I mean, you're not like the others. You're smarter, stronger, more... intriguing," he continued, his gaze never leaving mine. It was like he was trying to read me, figure me out. My hands tightened around the knife, and I quickly looked down at the meat, trying to avoid his intense stare.

"I'm just like everyone else here, the only difference being that I'm a girl," I replied, brushing off his compliment as casually as I could, though inside I was starting to feel more and more uneasy.

"No, you're not," Jack said, his voice lower now, more intense. "You're special." He stepped closer, closing the distance between us, and my heart skipped a beat. "And I can't help but be drawn to you."

I felt the blood drain from my face, a sick feeling rising in my stomach. I mumbled under my breath, "Oh god..." and turned away quickly, but to my surprise, Jack was right behind me. I didn't have time to react before I was almost inches away from him, his breath warm against my skin. My heart pounded in my chest as I processed what was happening. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to react, but all I could think was that something was terribly wrong here.

Before I could say anything, Jack leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. I froze. My mind went blank for a moment, overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all. My body went rigid, and panic surged through me. I snapped back to reality and shoved him away with all the strength I could muster. My breath came in shallow gasps, and I felt the overwhelming rush of emotions—fear, anger, confusion—all at once.

"What the hell was that?!" I yelled at him, my voice shaking, but my fury was growing stronger.

"Oh, come on, baby. You know you want it," Jack said, his words dripping with arrogance as he tried to step toward me again. My heart was racing in my chest, my blood boiling with disgust.

"Well, I don't!" I yelled at him, shoving him away again. "And even if I did... this is not the way to go!" I was screaming now, my body trembling with the force of my anger.

Just as Jack smirked at me, my voice a mix of disbelief and fury, I heard the door of the blood house crash open. "What the bloody hell is going on in here?!" Newt's voice rang through the room, full of authority and panic.

I pointed at Jack, my voice hoarse from the yelling. "He—!" I couldn't even finish the sentence. My words were tangled with emotion. "He kissed me!" I finally managed to get out, my voice raw.

"What?!" Newt yelled, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and anger. Without hesitation, he lunged toward Jack, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. "How dare you touch her!" Newt growled, his voice full of protective fury. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white with the force of his anger. The other boys rushed in, pulling Newt away from Jack, trying to hold him back.

Jack just stood there, smirking at me, and I could feel my stomach twist with disgust. He didn't even look guilty—he seemed pleased with himself, like he thought it was some kind of game.

Newt finally calmed down, his face softening as he turned to me, concern flooding his expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now, filled with genuine worry. I nodded but didn't trust my voice to say anything. I just wanted to escape, to get away from Jack and the horrible situation he'd put me in.

Without saying another word, Newt took my hand and gently led me out of the blood house, the others dragging Jack away and throwing him into the slammer. The weight of the moment was heavy, but with Newt's hand in mine, I felt a little safer, a little less alone. Still, the image of Jack's smirk stayed with me, a constant reminder of how wrong everything had felt.