EPIPHANY ✁ newt

18 , frustration

It had been almost a month. A month of doing nothing but hiding. Running. Fearing the unknown. Grieving.

We were living at some junkyard by the coast, broken boats littered the ocean shores all around - and we stayed in rundown buildings scattered around the place. It wasn't too bad... WICKED hadn't come for us ever since the last incident at the Right Arm's old hideout in the mountains - but that didn't stop any of from flinching whenever any sort of sound came from outside at night. Or when someone thought they heard a vehicle.

It was a safe guess to say we were all a scarred, bitter, broken and terrified lot of people trying to survive off of the bare minimal and the hope of maybe being able to help our friends sometime soon. Soon. Thats the word Vince and Mary always used when any of us asked when we were going to act. Soon... it never was soon, though. Just waiting... waiting, and oh, more waiting. I hated it. I found myself hating almost every minute of every day.

It had been over three weeks and all I could think about was the fact that Minho, Aris, Sonya, Harriet and all the others were still with WICKED. We had no clue what they were going through right now - I didn't even want to think about it honestly. And then, of course, Teresa. Some nights I still dreamed about that whole day never actually happening. That she was still with us. I could tell it affected Thomas the most as he was unwilling to even bring her up, and I didn't blame him.

The only thing I looked forward to was seeing Newt sometimes. There were days we didn't even meet, too busy caught up in some work or the other that Vince or Jorge had put us up to, but I could always count on the blonde to somehow lift my spirits - even if it only lasted a short time. Teresa and him were the only two people I had really taken an instant liking too - and one had already chosen to leave us, making me fear for Newt's intentions.

But the more time I spent with him, the more I trusted he would never do such a thing, even though I didn't want to let myself fall into another trap like that. I had grown closer with both him and Thomas - the brown haired boy and I bonding over our frustration with pretty much everything and anything. While Newt and I mostly found ourselves walking along the dirty beach picking up sea glass to keep occupied as we talked. He had set himself a mission to find an aquamarine coloured piece ever since I'd told him it was my favourite colour, which I found extremely sweet.

Most people would have given up on me by now, I was sure - but the blonde has started a habit of finding me at some point of the day whenever he could just to check if I'd eaten anything, and would instantly walk off to find bread or something if I said hadn't. Even though I knew I could simply lie to him and get away with it, I found myself not wanting to. He was only trying to help - maybe I could let him.

Mary had been healing nicely, almost able to use her arm normally now. She'd been looking for something that could help me illness ever since the Right Arm camp got blown to bits - but had been unsuccessful till now. I had kind of just learnt how to live with the constant headaches and dizziness, but the thought of not knowing the next time I'd get the antidote would send me spiraling every time. I felt weak. Like all I could do was cause the others problems. I hated it.

I knew we had to do something soon, or I'd physically combust of nerves, impatience or simply anger. But I knew I couldn't keep going like this for long. There were days I couldn't even get out of bed at all, it was getting that bad. I had asked Mary if my illness could get bad enough to kill me, but she'd said no. Said that I'd have to have it for years at least untreated for something like that to happen, but I could tell she was trying to convince herself of that as well - and when a doctor was unsure about something like that, you knew not to like your chances.