six feet under

IV. THE TIME WAS RIGHT

Hey Tommy,

I saw you today.

Or maybe should I say, you saw me today.

And yet you did nothing.

The last page of this journal should have been the one I wrote yesterday, where I wrote about how I finally feel okay when I uncap my pen and talk to you through the paper. It would have been a nice ending. But here I am again...

I try to understand you, Tommy, I really do. But sometimes I don't get what's going on in this bloody brain of yours.

When I opened this journal today I intended to write drawn out paragraphs of fuming words. I wanted to make you feel deep inside your bones the cyclone that swept me away when I saw you. How it made me burn with rage, wanting to come at you all, feeling lost in my own skin, my thoughts scattering in all directions, a loud ringing deep inside my skull. Powerful yet powerless. Then it left me drained, shaking on my way back to my place. Hollow, yet heart-wrenched.

... But I cannot. I turned the page, grabbed my pen, all set to make you face the consequences of your friendly visit this morning. Only I couldn't. Where would I start and how in the bloody hell would I finish? The Flare doesn't start, nor does it finish. It possesses your entire body every second of every day of your bloody life. It's one of those pains you can never know the depth of until you experience it yourself.

If I was talking to you in person, and not to a bloody notebook supposed to be you, I'd never admit that one part of me was just waiting for this. To see you, Minho, Brenda, all of you again. To be given the proof that our friendship was as truthful for you as it was for me. Or even just to just to lighten the weight I've been carrying every bloody second since Ratman's announcement. That's what friends are for, right ?

Fortunately, the other half was stronger. It needed to be stronger, since you couldn't be.

I wanted to be angry at you but as you can see, I'm failing miserably. In my defence, thinking of you makes it very hard. You, and Minho because there's no way he wasn't part of this stupid plan, acted like thick idiots (as usual) (why am I even surprised). I know you shanks thought it was the right thing to do. It wasn't, though.

I can't be the reasonable one anymore. Not with the Flare nibbling my brain little by little. And I know being reasonable isn't your thing, Tommy. But you will need to learn. Soon I won't be able to protect you from what I'd have become.

Let's face the truth. I'm turning into what you're running away from. I only ask for one thing. Please, don't let me catch you.

After you left, I spent hours sobbing on the floor, almost choking on my own tears. I'm glad nobody was there to witness this, I felt pathetic enough all by myself. I know you never wanted this, but you were the reason. Although my stupid self is also a big part of it, in a way you're not supposed to know about so I'll just consider this was entirely your fault.

You came, twisting the knife, dredging salt all over my wounds as you spoke. I could have forgiven that. But turning around and leaving when you could have ended it all ? We both knew you were letting me down at the time, weren't we ?

Or maybe you felt like I was the one giving up on you.

I almost did, once.

I never told you about it. Not because I assumed you weren't trustworthy enough to know, but because it was nice to have someone who didn't see me as a fragile broken mess. I knew I was. Nearly everyone knew it too. You could be the one who didn't.

Maybe it was selfish for me not to tell you, but what was the point ? Besides, how was I supposed to bring it into the conversation ? You didn't know. It never was the right time to change that. And If I'm being honest, I liked it that way.

When we sat down to eat Frypan's stew in the Glade or when we walked together in the Scorch, I didn't feel as if I was being monitored or inquired. I mean, I know Minho and the others probably weren't thinking like that at all. But I couldn't help but wonder if they were. With you, I could pretend.

I talked like I had no thoughts whirling in the back of my mind, smiled back as if I never stopped, laughed like I was okay. And suddenly, I'd realise I genuinely was.

I didn't want to lose this. But now I have to take this risk. I'll tell you, as a token of confidence. And mostly because you must understand how much I need you to do what I asked.

It was my day off of running, a few months before you came up into the box. I don't know how, or when I set up my mind but next thing, I was in the Maze, staring at the walls that stretched to the sky and cursing the people who built them. There was this beetle blade hiding in the ivy, as to taunt me, daring me to do it. So, I clenched on the ivy and climbed as high as I could. I said a few words. Then I let go. I fell.

I laid on the dusty ground for what felt like hours, but it could have been minutes, or years, for all I know. Waiting for the Grievers to finish the job since I wasn't even able to make it work. They didn't come. Someone got me out of here before they could. I don't remember who it was. Maybe I passed out. Maybe I avoided seeing who it was, too ashamed to look them in the eye. The first few days after, I would do my best not to think about it, as if others would naturally follow suit. But left me with a limp. If I had even the slightest chance to leave it behind, it took it away.

That's about all of it.

That's a chapter of my life I wish I could erase from all the memories to which I have imposed it, starting with mine. So please, don't let it change a thing.

Back in the day when I threw myself from that bloody wall, I'd feel guilty because I almost gave up on them. But things are different now, aren't they? I don't have much of a choice. I'm not giving up on you Tommy. I never will. You will always find me whenever you'll need it. In memories. Little things. You'll hear someone say "bloody" just like I do, and it will bring me back. Even if it's just for a split second. And I believe that one day, it'll turn out to be enough.

I liked to think that if I'm not gone the day I got my limp, it was because life still had things in stock for me. Turns out I was right : I met you, and escaped the Maze. At least I won't die locked inside this hellhole, thanks to you.

I admit it, the time wasn't right. But it was today.

Since I didn't even get to choose whether I would live or not,  I shall at least choose how and when I'll die.

I don't want to fall again.

I don't want to become a Crank.

You should have done it.