How I survived in an all boys glade

Chapter Thirty-five

- getting cleaned up -

As Clint enters the med-hut, his presence immediately fills the room with a calm yet authoritative air. He sits down beside me, pulling on a pair of gloves before carefully examining the gash on my arm. With practiced ease, he starts cleaning the wound, and I can't help but let out a groan. "God, that hurts," I mutter, squeezing my fists tightly to distract myself from the stinging pain.

Clint glances up at me with a raised brow. "I haven't even started stitching you up yet," he replies, holding up the needle. His tone is calm, but the sight of that needle sends a wave of unease washing over me.

"Uh... you sure that's necessary?" I ask with a nervous laugh, leaning back slightly, trying to put some distance between myself and the pointed metal.

"If you don't want an ugly scar, then yes," Clint responds matter-of-factly. His no-nonsense attitude makes it clear that arguing is pointless. With a resigned sigh, I slowly sit back up and brace myself.

As he begins stitching, I grab hold of the blanket under me, my knuckles turning white as I clench it tighter with each puncture of the needle. The sharp pain radiates through my arm, and I grit my teeth to keep from yelping. Clint works quickly and efficiently, his focus unwavering.

"There," he finally says, tying off the last stitch and securing a bandage over the wound. I release the blanket, my fingers aching from how hard I'd been gripping it.

But Clint isn't done yet. "Now, let's take a look at that ankle," he says, moving down to the swollen joint. His hands hover for a moment before gently grasping it. "Does this hurt?"

"GOD!" I groan through gritted teeth, instinctively pulling my foot away from his grasp. The sharp pain shoots up my leg, leaving me breathless for a moment.

"Yeah, dude," I add with a frustrated sigh, slowly easing my leg back toward him.

"Sorry, sorry," Clint says quickly, his voice apologetic as he carefully examines the injury. His touch is much gentler this time, but it still takes everything in me not to flinch.

Just then, the door creaks open, and Newt steps inside with Alby following close behind. "How's it going?" Newt asks, his concerned gaze flicking between me and Clint.

"Well," Clint begins, straightening up and removing his gloves, "it's definitely a third-degree sprain. She needs to stay off it for a while and keep it elevated." His tone is professional, but the news makes me groan audibly. I throw my head back in frustration, already dreading being stuck in bed for what feels like an eternity.

"Can I at least go back to my own hut?" I ask, trying to negotiate my way out of the med-hut.

Clint offers me a sympathetic smile. "We'll see about that," he says, though his tone suggests it's unlikely. "For now, you just need to rest and let your body heal."

I sigh, knowing he's right but still feeling a pang of frustration. "Hey, at least you survived," Alby chimes in, his attempt at cheering me up bringing a small smile to my lips.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I admit, though the smile doesn't quite reach my eyes. "How's the greenie?" I ask, my thoughts shifting to the boy I'd risked so much to save.

"He's doing good," Alby replies, nodding reassuringly. As he speaks, Newt leans casually against the bed beside me, reaching out to take my hand. His fingers trace absent patterns on my skin, the simple, comforting gesture easing some of my tension.

"Yeah, thanks to you," Minho says as he enters the hut with Theo in tow, both of them grinning at me. Their expressions are full of pride and relief, and it's clear they're impressed by what I managed to do out there.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," Alby says, giving me a small nod before heading out of the med-hut. Clint follows behind him, likely going to check on the greenie's progress.

Left alone with the others, I settle back against the pillows, allowing myself to relax for the first time since the ordeal began. We chat casually, the lighthearted banter lifting my spirits as Newt and Theo fill me in on what's been happening outside the maze.

Eventually, Newt and Theo head off to work, their responsibilities calling them away, but Minho stays behind. "Took the day off to look after you," he explains with a shrug when I ask why he's lingering.

Though I'm not thrilled about being stuck in the med-hut, knowing Minho's staying makes it feel a little less isolating.