A Group B fanfiction following Group B's Keeper of the Runners (Minho's equivalent), Rogue. This story is split into II parts: most events before Rachel & Aris, and all events after.
'Then, next to her, another girl. And another beside that one. She...
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ROGUE SAT in the open green, her back against the rough bark of the Decision Tree. With her eyes closed, her ears acclimated to the gentle whisper of the wind through the long grass and the sound of Glenners moving with a sluggish weight. She could picture it: their figures moving like clockwork, just the same as yesterday, and the day before that. She exhaled slowly.
Her face felt tight against the presence of dried tears, and her breath had been so wracked with panic that her chest was still adapting to the calm. It was their second year captive in the Glen, two years since the first girls had arrived in the Box, and two hours since Ximena had imposed her hysteria as Rogue and Serena exited the Maze.
Though her words were vailed by a shout and a slight slur, Rogue could make out exactly what she had said. 'It's all your fault,' was at the core of the matter. Foully stated, Ximena attributed all their failures to Rogue's inconsequence through a piercing scream. Rogue had simply stood, stunned, watching as Ximena swayed where she stood. She could smell the drink on Ximena's breath, a familiar stench that clung to all her clothes in recent months. It was sharp and unpleasant.
Rogue retreated to the Map Room before anyone began to question why her eyes had glossed over. Clenching her fists, she prevented herself from tearing apart each map and chart. They seemed to mock her, gathered there on the walls. Each sketch only reaffirmed what Ximena had said. It was all her fault. Two years was far too long, and Rogue's sobs echoed in the empty room.
She remained until she couldn't bear the stuffiness any longer and stepped outside. By then, each girl had moved on, collecting firewood and shuffling chairs for the gathering later that night. Harriet had insisted an evening of drink would relieve the austerity of the occasion. Rogue was unsure. Sitting under the tree, she listened out for the distant crackle of the bonfire as she took in a deep, shaky breath. It seemed that whenever tensions with Ximena eased, the resulting emptiness made one of them eager to refill it with spite. Now, the blame was squarely on her shoulders.
Snatched from her thoughts, Rogue opened her eyes to the sudden smack of wood a few metres away. It was Sonya, her blonde hair pulled back into a plait, strands catching in her mouth as she fumbled with a bundle of logs she had spilled. It wasn't until Sonya looked up at her that Rogue realised she had been laughing. She hid her grin with her arm.
'You think this is funny, do ya?' Sonya called out. She stood up straight, folding her arms. 'Lend me a hand then, lazy bum.' Sonya's lips displayed a teasing smile, so full of warmth that Rogue couldn't help but smile back. Sonya grunted as she unloaded the kindling into Rogue's arms, brushing the hair from her lips. 'Cheers,' she said through a sigh. 'Help me toss them.'
