six feet under

II. I DON'T SEE YOU AS A HERO

So, hey Tommy.

I woke up this morning to the worst headache I ever had. I could almost hear the throbbing in my skull. The pain was deep, shallow, too. I know you probably feel like it makes no sense, but really, the pain was settled everywhere. It was coming and leaving in waves, but it never stopped hurting somehow. Like something was cutting my head open.

Writing it down is discouraging, really. It feels so hard trying to describe something you feel when no one ever tried to understand it. And I'm only speaking about the headache, here.

Just look at WICKED. It's truly amazing how the entire world was ready to provide money,  talented scientists and even kids who were separated from their families, all of this in the name of finding a cure. The entire world chose to close its eyes on the atrocities they made us go through because they were desperate. And terrified. I know I would be. If I was living what they call a normal life out there, with loved ones to protect, I'd look away, too.

No one ever tried to understand the Flare, or rather the people who had it. The majority of the human race. Billions of people were left aside because WICKED made them believe they could save their children. In a few years, WICKED will have its cure and it will all be over. What about them ?

I don't blame you for working with them before, Tommy. You were a kid. We all were. We weren't supposed to save the world. No matter what they were expecting from us. But I can't blame you for trying. It's more the opposite, if I'm being honest. Obviously I don't remember, but I wonder what I'd have done in your position. If I'd have been ready to sacrifice a few to save many, when being a little kid. This is what all of this is about, right ? One's selfishness and one's heroism. At least, that's what WICKED wants us to believe.

If I was asked this question today, then I'd be a terrible hero. There is beauty in sacrifice, I would admit. I sincerely admire the people who gave up everything that mattered to them for the greatest good. But I won't be like them.

Maybe I got tired of being an angel and started questioning God.

WICKED gave us friends to love, people to die for, only to take them back whenever they felt like it. What about the people the hero sacrified ? They didn't get to choose. If it could give WICKED its cure, if it could save what's left of us, I would gladly drop dead at this very second. Even if I had years to age peacefully ahead. But I couldn't consider sacrificing you. I mean, you, Minho, Fry, any other Glader. Each time one of us died in the Maze then later in the Scorch, I told myself it had to stop. It never did. I couldn't save them. Each time, I would think "why them ? why them and not me ?". Especially now that we know that they were probably immunes. I feel like I stole someone's chance to live, only to waste it anyway.

So, WICKED. I hate these people so much I can't put it into words. The only thing that keeps me from sinking into guilt is telling myself that it's all their fault. All these unnecessary deaths, and all these spoiled childhoods. Like yours. And mine.

I don't know if it's the bloody Flare nibbling on my brain or something, but I remember some things now. Blurry scenes from before WICKED, when I lived with my parents. I've got a sister. They took her too, in Group B. I think she's immune. It's her they wanted. Not me. I guess I was just collateral damage. I hope she's okay. I hope she made it.

I mostly remember sweet things about them, and how life was before. But it still feels so distant. As if I was watching someone else's life. Or false memories.

Do you think I'm being paranoid ? That I'm already this crazy ? Or do you think that's a true possibility ? I understand they have no reason to do something like this. But, you know. We don't have any reasons to trust them either.

I hate it. I love remembering those things, even if every "flashback" breaks my heart a little. But what if it was all lies, and my real memories are gone forever ? Somehow, this seems a lot worse than just forgetting.

Or maybe it's just me not wanting it to be true. Because if most of the things I remember are normal childhood things, some others aren't. Some things are things kids should never, ever live. I kind of hope the horrors had started after they put us into that bloody Maze.

I played football with my mother. I think she was really good. I can't remember any of them having a job. I think they were already busy enough surviving.

I remember the heat. It felt like the Scorch already. I guess the Sun Flares were pretty recent, back then.

My father used to close the windows every night. There were Cranks outside, but we called them the crazies.

I loved chocolate and cheese.

Stuffed animals.

I remember snow.

I don't see you as a hero, Tommy. You're better than that. I don't think you want to save the world, not in the way WICKED wanted you to.

But you can still save me, and you know how.

AN: wow this was a little bit dramatic, hope you don't mind :)
The SNOW though. When I started the fever code I thought nothing could be worse than the death cure. HAHAHAHA.