We All Have Scars

Twelve

(Still Newt's P.O.V)

I didn't quite know how to compute what I saw. I couldn't help but feel surprise as well as joy at Teresa's being alive. Mainly joy, though. Until I thought about the fact she was holding a bladed spear.

The other Gladers noticed, and soon everyone had stopped to gawk at Teresa as she marched towards us, her hands gripping that weapon, her fave hard as stone. She looked ready to start stabbing the first thing that moved and instinctively, I felt myself pull Isobel closer towards me.

Thomas took a step forward, obviously not really sure what he planned to do. But then more movement stopped him.

On the sides of both Teresa, girls appeared; they, too, seemed to come from bloody nowhere. He turned to look behind us, and I mimicked the action. We were surrounded by at least twenty girls.

And they all held weapons, varying knives and rusty swords and jagged machetes. Several of the girls had bows and arrows, their menacing tips already aimed at the group.

Group B popped into my mind. And Thomas' tattoo saying they were supposed to kill him.

Then Teresa stopped ten metres away from the group. Her companions did the same, forming a circle around us. Isobel turned to take it all in, returning with undetectable fear, if any. She started bouncing on the balls of her feet, as if agitated and getting ready to run if she had to.

Next to me, Minho spoke up first. "What's this crap about, Teresa? Nice way to greet your long-lost buddies."

"You know this girl?!" Isobel whisper-shouted at me.

'Long story' I mouthed and Isobel snorted, rolling her eyes.

Teresa didn't answer the question and an eerie silence swept across the group. The sun continued to rise, inching towards the point where its heat would beat down on us unbearably. We were running out of time, and would have to rest soon.

Teresa walked towards us again, and stopped about three metres from where Minho and I stood side by side, as I repositioned Isobel behind me.

"Teresa?" I asked. "What the bloody-"

"Shut up," Teresa said. She didn't snap or yell it. She said it calmly and with conviction, which only made it more frightening. "And any of you makes a move, the bows start shooting."

Teresa brought her spear back up to a better fighting position, swept it back and forth as she stepped past Minho and I and through the Gladers, acting as if she was searching for something. She came to Brenda and paused. I felt Isobel stiffen, but neither Teresa nor Brenda said a word, but the hatred between them was visible. Teresa moved past her, never dropping her icy stare, and I held Isobel's hand as she relaxed slightly.

And then Teresa was in front of Thomas. I tried to tell myself that she'd never use that weapon on him, but believing isn't easy when a sharp blade's pointed at someone.

"Teresa," he whispered.

She didn't move, just kept staring at him, her fave unreadable except for the obvious anger there.

"Teresa, what's-"

"Shut up." That same voice of command. It didn't sound like her.

"But what-"

Teresa reared back and swung the butt of her spear at him, smashing it into his right cheek. I jumped to help, but Isobel clung onto my arm, reminding me of all the girls with lethal weapons ready to shoot at any moment.

"I said shut up." She reached down and grabbed him by the shirt, jerked up until he stood once again. She repositioned her hands on the wooden shaft, pointed it at him. "Is your name Thomas?"

I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped. How could she bloody ask that?! After all they'd been through?

Thomas gaped, unsure how to answer. "You know who I-"

She swung the spear at him even more violently this time, crashing the bladeless end into the side of his head, right on his ear. It looked twice as painful as the first hit; Thomas cried out, clutching his head. But he didn't fall this time. "You know who I am!" He screamed.

"I used to, anyway," she said in a voice that was both soft and disgusted. "Now I'm going to ask you one more time. Is your name Thomas?"

"Yes!" He yelled back at her. "My name is Thomas!"

Teresa nodded, then started to back away from him, the tip of the blade once again aimed at his chest. The others got out of the way as she passed the group and rejoined the circle of girls who surrounded us.

"You're coming with us," she called out. "Thomas. Come on. Remember, anyone tries something, the arrows fly."

"No way!" Minho yelled. "You're not taking him anywhere."

Teresa acted as if she hadn't heard him, her eyes riveted to Thomas in that strange squinty-eyed stare. "This isn't some stupid game. I'm going to start counting. Every time I hit a multiple of five, we'll kill one of you with an arrow. We'll do it until Thomas is the only one left, then we'll take him anyway. It's up to you."

Aris started acting strange. He stood just a metre or so from Thomas' right, and he kept turning in a slow circle, staring at the girls one by one as if he knew them each well. But somehow he kept his mouth shut.

Of course, if this really was Group B, Aris would've been with them. He did know them.

"One!" Teresa shouted.

Thomas wasn't taking any chances. He walked forward, pushing past us until he reached the open, then went straight towards Teresa. He ignored the comments from the others and I to stay. Eyes on Teresa, he walked until he stood almost nose to nose with her.

"Fine," he said. "Take me."

"I only made it to one."

"Yeah. I'm really brave that way."

She hit him with the spear, so that he couldn't help but drop to the ground again. He spat, and looked at the blood splatter on the dirt.

"Bring the bag," Teresa said from above him.

In front of us I saw two girls walking towards him, their weapons hidden away somewhere. One of them - a dark-skinned girl with hair cut almost to her scalp - held a frayed burlap sack. They stopped half a metre from him; he got back up to his hands and knees, probably scared to do anything more for fear of getting pummelled again.

"We're taking him with us!" Teresa yelled. "If anybody follows, I'll hit him again and we'll start shooting you. We won't really bother aiming. Just let the arrows fly any old way they feel like."

"Teresa!" Minho called. "You catch the Flare that quickly? Your mind's obviously gone already."

The butt of the spear smashed into the back of Thomas' head; he collapsed on his stomach.

"Anything else you wanna say?" Teresa asked and I glared at Minho for aggravating her. After a long moment of silence, she said, "Didn't think so. Put the bag over him."

Hands roughly grabbed his shoulder and spun him onto his back - their grip dug into his bullet wound and I grimaced at the possible pain Thomas felt.

He moaned. The girls hovered over him and two held the open end of the sack directly above his head.

"Don't resist," the dark-skinned girl said, her face shining with sweat. "Or it'll just get worse."

That perplexed me. Her eyes and voice held genuine sympathy for him. But her next words couldn't have been more different.

"Better just to go along and let us kill you. Doesn't do you any good to have a lot of pain along the way."

The bag slipped over his head, and all I could do was panic. They're going to kill Thomas...

A/N: Chapter twelve! And over 400 views! Wow guys! So happy! Thank you so much to all my lovely readers and please let me know what you think. All comments are welcome. Even criticism(only constructive though) Thanks for reading and have a nice day/evening! 😄