BROKEN HEART - the maze runner

05

-Explain it to me again.

-Okay, so the zone was divided into several parts: murder room, herbs...

-And you worked there?

-No, I was a cook - Frypan was irritated. - You know, I was cooking vegetables, not digging them out of the ground.

I seemed to nod my head in understanding, although I really didn't understand anything. I gave up eating groats after three bites and somehow I couldn't believe that all those boys ate his dishes every day. But what did I know? He was the cook.

With this question in my mind, I took another sip of wine.

It wasn't like I drank alcohol to calm my raging emotions. But it made it easier for me to cope. Just as liters of water were poured on a fire to put it under control, all I had to do was put a bottle in front of my nose. And there was no need to pour anything on me, but rather pour it into me.

Frypan and Winston did a great job as my drinking companions. They laughed with me, sang songs that often consisted of drunken gurgles instead of words, and told increasingly strange stories. Even the color returned to Winston's face, making him no longer look like a dead person. Aris also laughed a lot, but he avoided alcohol. He preferred to just be our listener. Teresa, however, clearly did not support our fun, because I could hear her snorting even from the other end of the room, where she was reading one of Danny's books.

Sometimes I forgot that I had been kicked out of the next room an hour earlier. But then I noticed the absence of Thomas, Minho and Newt, my anger got to my head and I had to force down more wine. And so on without end.

Then suddenly the door opened. One by one, the boys entered the room, and all three of them focused on us. I waved to them happily. But then I remembered that I was angry at them.

-Look, look - I grumbled. - Are the proceedings over? Maybe I'll leave so you can share them with your friends.

-We weren't the ones who told you to leave - Newt reminded him, crossing his arms next to his chest.

I pursed my lips thinly. I looked down at my glass and took another sip. He was right. Damn

-Pour Frypan - I ordered and put the glass on my knee so that it wouldn't shake.

-It's getting done.

-Hey, I want it too - Minho groaned, sitting down on the floor next to me. He watched carefully as the black man filled my glass, licking his lip slightly.

- Here - I gave him my alcohol. I then stood on my feet, losing my balance for a moment, and then put my hands on my hips. - I will create an atmosphere for us.

I staggered towards the chest of drawers where my record player and old vinyl records were. To my surprise, I got there quickly and only had two stumbles along the way, which wasn't such a bad result. I rummaged through the records for a moment, thoughtfully. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

-What music do you like? - I asked what I should have done at the beginning.

-We don't know - Minho replied. At my surprised look, he just shrugged and added: - There was no music in the glade.

I let go of the record I was holding in my fingers and it fell to the ground. My jaw would probably hit the floor if it could. I also had to pull on the ears a bit because I didn't think they worked well.

-Excuse me? - I was outraged. - Not at all? Nothing?

-Mike had a ukulele - Frypan muttered thoughtfully. - He played it sometimes.