Nepenthe (TMR FF) UNDER EDITING

Chapter 29

Without Aris, I was even lonelier. I had tried to talk to him again multiple times, but he never replied, and thus the only thing I could do, was think. Thinking was never a good thing, especially when you had potentially destroyed the lives of all your friends...twice. Not only had I apparently helped put them in the Glade, but when they had started to accept their lives here, I ruined that as well. I even tried to kill my freaking boyfriend. I understand why the Glader's couldn't trust me anymore, considering the fact that I couldn't even trust myself. I guess it's for the best, being in the Slammer that is. Everyone was safe.

"So you're awake then. Good. We need to talk." Someone said, making me jump and turn around. Just outside of my own personal prison stood Minho, a sombre look plastered on his face. My stomach churned, and I bit my lip, anxiety starting to eat me alive.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"Did you notice anything different about last night, Emma?" Minho asked, gesturing around the glade. I tilted my head in confusion.

"I was asleep, Minho. I fell asleep almost straight after I was put in here." I told him, shrugging. "I had nothing better to do."

Minho sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "So you didn't hear anything strange?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, glancing upwards in thought. I didn't really hear much of anything. Usually, if there were any noises, it would wake me up straight away, because I wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper. Even the Maze doors woke me up, even though I should be used to them by-Oh.

"I didn't hear the Maze doors close last night." I muttered, staring up at him with wide eyes. He nodded, crouching down and gesturing for me to come closer. I hesitated slightly, before crawling over to the door of the Slammer. Minho put a finger to his lips, his way of telling me to be quiet.

"They didn't close. Alby thinks it's your fault." He admitted, looking away. "I'm not even supposed to be over here talking to you right now."

"So that's why I'm not getting any food." I stated, realisation dawning on me. "Alby thinks I'm the spawn of Satan."

Minho snorted. "He's not the only one. Most of the Glader's say that we should give you to the Grievers as a sacrifice."

I winced loudly, biting my lip. I'd have to admit that the comment hurt. I've been in the Glade for roughly a year, and the people who have grown to be my friends, want nothing more than to get rid of me now.

"...And Newt?" I whispered, not sure If I truly wanted to know the answer to that. Minho clenched his jaw, looking away.

"The shuck's going mad, I swear. He told Ably about the incident with this here twig." Minho admitted, gesturing to the sharp piece of wood that was sticking out, not that far from where I was standing. Minho reached into the slammer, grabbing it at the end and snapping it off, so that it was blunt and no longer could do any damage. "He regrets telling him of course. Now the shank isn't allowed to see you, and is being a sap up in the Med-Jacks quarters. Clint's getting sick of being his personal therapist."

"Oh." Was all I said. Minho sighed loudly, noticing the instantaneous drop in my attitude.

"You need to help me out, Emma." He begged, his eyes showing how desperate he really was. "Can you remember anything? Anything at all that would help us prove that you're innocent?"

"The voices in my head." I sighed, trying to think back to what they had said. "The voice said that they were going to make Teresa trigger the ending. Then it said that they changed their minds."

"What does that mean?" Minho asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I shrugged helplessly.

"I have no idea. Whatever it is, Ar-" I stopped myself from saying Aris' name, knowing that it could potentially get me in more trouble.

"What?" Minho asked, confused. I shook my head, laughing sarcastically.

"Whatever it is, Alby is going to hate me whether or not I find something that proves my innocence. As far as he's concerned, I could rot in the Slammer and he'd still have a clear head. I mean, he's not feeding me, so I guess that's his plan." I said, sighing as my stomach rumbled after I closed my mouth. I groaned loudly. Food was my weakness. I should have eaten that damned spaghetti.

"Stop being so dramatic." Minho rolled his eyes.

"Then get me some damned food!"

"Look, Emmy, I wish I could, but I'm not even supposed to be looking at you right no-"

"But I'm hungry." I whimpered, my stomach clenching painfully. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. I couldn't remember the last time I ate.

"I know. I'm sorry." Minho whispered, sighing. I pouted, looking away.

"Hurry up and get me outta here, Minho." I said, my voice breaking. I was really sad. Having no food was really disappointing and made this whole situation worse.

"I've already talked to Alby, Emma. He's not going to let you out." Minho swallowed, avoiding my eyes.

I shook my head.

"I didn't mean the Slammer. You need to find a way out, Minho. I promised Gally that I would keep you safe, and I've clearly already broken that promise. He told me to get the Gladers out. I can't do that locked up. But you can."

"We're working on it." Minho told me, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before opening them again and giving me a weak smile. "Did Thomas tell you?"

"Tell me what?" I asked confused, and to be honest, absolutely terrified. Did he propose to Teresa or something? Because I'm not gonna be able to Stomach that kind of news, and I'm not prepared to throw up what little food I have left in my tummy. I ain't about that life.

"He's a runner now." Minho announced, giving a sarcastic laugh.

I wanted to smile, believe me I did, but in these circumstances, I couldn't find it in me too. There was no freaking sun. The doors aren't closing. It was more dangerous now than it ever has been. The Grievers could be permanently out in the Maze, or worse, the Glade. Who knows what they're up too. Thomas wouldn't be safe. No one was.

"Cheers, Minho. He's probably gonna die." Minho looked at me, a confused look in his eyes.

"I still don't understand your language."

"It's called fricken English."

"Well it's shucking stupid."

"You're shucking stupid."

"Stop having a 'winge'." He mimicked, putting on a girly voice. My jaw dropped open.

"I do NOT sound like that." I protested, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You kind of do, but that's okay."

"Just shut up and get me some food, before I get angry and take a bite out of you." I joked, glaring at him playfully. Minho smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I like the sound of that." I rolled my eyes, flipping him off. Minho smiled before his face turned serious and he stood up from his crouched position. "I'm gonna persuade Alby to give you at least a little bit of food. At least some water."

I smiled weakly at him, nodding my head.

"Thanks Min." I muttered, bringing my knees up to my chest. Minho smiled sadly, giving me a small wave.

"No matter what anyone says, or believes, I don't think you are, or ever have been bad, Emmy."

I watched as Minho walked away, a stinging sensation starting to pool at the back of my eyes.

"Just wait till you get your memories back. You hated me once." I murmured to myself, closing my eyes.

Remembering wasn't a thing I was looking forward to.