EUNEIROPHRENIA:
•the peaceful state of mind that comes after waking up from a pleasant dream.
after they finally found their way out, they were met with yet another danger: the scorch. will they survive and get to the safe place?
TMR, MINHO
-STATU...
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9:30
I looked down at the scratched metal watch strapped to my wrist. They were late.. I tried to regulate my breathing, but it was difficult to remain this way when minutes dragged on like this. The cold metal felt heavier than usual, pressing down like a reminder of time slipping through our fingers.
Nick, self-evidently not one to stand much in the way of patience, paced restlessly in front of me. The gravel crackled beneath his boots. He muttered low under his breath. He was like an animal in a cage, nervous energy and raw nerves. His brown hair stuck up in places where he had repeatedly run his hands through it; his face was taut with frustration.
"What the finch are these crackheads doing?" he spat, glaring down the tracks like he could will the train into being by dint of his displeasure.
"Calm down, Nick," I said, trying to sound a whole lot more confident than I felt. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, one of the many which had grown out longer than I liked. After we got separated, I hacked it off myself, crooked and too short, barely touching my shoulders. Now it was back to its old length, but part of me still missed that rawness. Short hair was easier, pragmatic. In the feel, there was something almost fitting to the chaos surrounding us.
I wasn't calm, not really. How could I be? A thousand scenarios were running through my head, most of them bad. But I couldn't let Nick spiral, and I sure as hell couldn't let my own nerves get the best of me. So, I faked it, the way I'd learned to do when things were going south.
"They probably just got caught up with something," I said, though my voice shook a little.
Nick snorted. "Caugth up? By what? Flowers?" He resumed his pacing, eyes darting from the empty rails to the distant horizon where the train ought to have become visible by now.
"You two are overreacting," Newt's voice said. He was leaning against a nearby rock, arms folded across his chest, like he couldn't look less worried if he tried. His blond hair fell into his eyes as he gazed lazily at us, like this was just another dull afternoon. "It's probably nothing."
Nick and I exchanged a glance, one that silently screamed how could he possibly be so casual? Newt, of all people. Newt, who saw just as much hell as the rest of us, and then some. There he was, all cool and composed. Unfazed.
"You know what happens if they don't show up, right?" Nick asked. His tone was laced with sarcasm and nerves. "We don't get our people back, and we're just out here with those finch idiots breathing down our necks even more than before."
Newt shrugged unconcernedly. "I'm just saying, freaking out about it isn't gonna make the train come any faster."
I sighed and looked again down the tracks. Nick wasn't wrong to be on edge, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was just about to go seriously wrong. But there wasn't much we could do now but wait. The whistle of the train should've been a relief, but all it did was crank the tension in my chest higher.
