Bewitching

20|Unpleasant

I slowly come to consciousness, feeling a dull ache all over.
Voices.
"-permanent damage was done there." "So....it might be....paralyzed for life?" Oh god, are they talking about me or Newt? Someone else? I keep very still.
I hear a sniffle. "How-oh I'm gonna kill that shank for doing that to her."

Her.
As in me.
Only girl in the Glade.
Paralyzed?

Minho takes my right hand. "You're gonna be okay Elizabeth. You'll be fine."
Time to freaking wake up already. I groan. "Elizabeth?" I cough slightly and blink open my eyes to see a slightly teary Minho and a nervous Clint. Minho never cries! What's going on? I groan again and bring my hand up to cup my head. "Headache. Ache. Everything aches." But I remember Alex cutting my left arm. Why no pain there?
I turn my head to the side to look, but get pulled back by Minho. "Elizabeth. We need to tell you something."
I let out a low growl. "What?" He gulps and looks a little nervous. Clint takes over. "Elizabeth. Alex did some damage on your left arm. I'm so sorry, I tried to save it, but I couldn't."
God help me.
"You. You. You cut it. Off?" My voice squeaks a little. He shook his head. "No. That would cause more pain then it's worth, and I don't have the right tools." I slowly tried move my hand. It felt like I was moving it. Was it moving? I sat up slowly and looked at it. My hand wasn't moving.
I slowly lifted my arm. It hung limp. I choked back a sob as I saw the ugly red scars left there. Minho patted me on the back. "I'm so sorry Elizabeth."
Then I broke down, sobs racking my small body. Minho wrapped his arms around me, petting me basically. I was embarrassed beyond belief.

:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(

"Elizabeth, grab me the blue bottle please."
I lifted my arm to open the cabinet but stopped myself. I have been trying to get used to only using my right arm, but it sucks. I still reach out with my left, but stop myself, then have to endure those looks of pity that I get so often now.
I open the cabinet only to find the bottle on the top shelf. I curse under my breath. I absolutely hate asking for help. "Clint? It's on the shucking top shelf." I snap at him. Shuck, I haven't been the most pleasing person to be around of late. Everybody seems to we avoiding me. Even Frypan.
I hear him sigh. He comes up beside me and studies me for a minute. "Elizabeth." I would be picking at my nails right now. But of course, I can't.
So I just stupidly stare at the counter, already feeling stupid stupid tears. "Elizabeth." He says more sternly and I force myself to look at him. "What?" He runs a hand through his hair.
"Why are you acting like this? You are so mad and angry all the time. I don't even know you anymore." I know what he means. But I'm sure as shuck not gonna act like it. "What do you mean?" I say shortly.
"You are so distant. You barely say anything at all, and when you do it's something-" Clint searches for the word for a second. "Unpleasant."
I laugh harshly. "You're unpleasant."
His face got red.
"Okay Elizabeth." He snarled. "What the shuck is wrong with you?!"
Of all the things he could have said.
"Well Clint. I was attacked by a supposedly dead dead boy, watched my boyfriend get stabbed, lost the use of my left arm, and now I can't do half the stuff I used to! How was your shucking week?" He looked a little taken back
"Elizabeth I didn't mean it like that-"
"No Clint." I sighed and hopped up onto the counter below the cabinet and grabbed the bottle. He watched me with wide eyes. "I think you did."
I then jumped down from the counter and walked to the door. "I'll bring this to him." I stepped out into the hall.
Wow, I feel like a bad person.
I leaned against the wall and put my head into my hand. The good one. Ugh, I hate how that sounds. Like I have one good hand and one bad hand. I hate a lot of things lately.
I continued down the hall until I reached Newts room. I took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on my face. Then I stepped in.
He was sleeping. My smile sheds the falseness but stays thin and painful.
I put the bottle down on his bedside table and grab a cup from the desk. I fill it in the sink. I stare at the crystal clear water and wonder where it came from. I mean is this Glade maze thing even possible. Or are we just in some computer generated world, and none of this is real? The thought tugs my mind. Maybe I saw some sort of movie or read some sort of book about it once? I don't know. The cup starts to overflow, but I am deep in thought and just stare at it cluelessly.
"Um, Elizabeth?"
I drop the cup in the sink and whirl around, ready to attack, only to see a pale Newt sitting criss cross in his bed. I immediately relax. "Newt." He pats the bed next to him. "Come here." I am tempted, but only click my tongue and turn to start filling the cup again. I hear him sigh and some sheets rustle around. I turn off the water and bring it to his bedside. I see he already opened the bottle and has a pill ready. Pain killer. At least he's only on one a day now. He'll be off them completely in a couple of days. I watch him brush his hair out of his eyes and take the cup.
I can't stand to watch people take pills for some odd reason so I turn away.
"Elizabeth I'm so bloody sorry about your hand." He does sound truly pained about it. And angry. I'm worried what he might do. He's very protective. I pat his hand and look into his eyes. "Don't be. I don't like to be pitied." He looks at me sadly. "You need to be more accepting. People just want to help."

~~~~~~~~~

Newt is recovering very well. He is still confined to his bed, but is coping very well. We have been doing our best to heal his wounds, but the process is slow. He is getting impatient.
I walk quickly down the hall, looking forward to seeing Newt. I have been taking lessons from Clint on how to use one hand. It's very frustrating, but I'm tying to take Newts advice seriously.
"Hey baby-" I stop in my tracks as I open the door. Newt was sitting on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot really fast. "Um, Newt?" He just kept staring. He looked a little... crazy. I just backed out the room and quietly closed the door.

Newts POV

Newt quietly slipped out of the Homestead. How good it felt to be out of bed! Shuck, what was wrong with him. Something felt off. He felt fine 90% of the time. The other 10% the time he felt like throwing things. Or laughing at how utterly stupid this whole situation was. He giggled a bit as he silently slipped over to the slammer. He remembered another time like this, when he had came to deal Min. Now it was the real deal. Alex had really hurt her this time. He pulled put his knife. Time to get started.