Bewitching

31|Grieve for the Loss

"Where does the love of God go when you are planted in your own personal Hell?"

Thomas was suddenly shoving me to the right, and I blindly followed, swinging from vine to fine. Then I realized for the first time that night. My left hand was working. I crowed in joy, forgetting my head and stomachache for a second. But there was no time to celebrate, the Griever was almost upon us. Of course, being me, I had to shuck things up a bit. Or a lot, I guess you could say.

To sum things up, I slipped. My left hand froze up, and I missed the vine. I screamed as I fell, grabbing desperately at the thick clumps of vine that blurred into a green mass in front of my messed up vision. I finally caught it, and gave myself terrible rope burn as I slid to the ground. I didn't slow myself down enough, and as I hit the ground, I forgot to roll, I stumbled hard, rolling my ankle. I screamed so loud I was sure the Glade could here me. I probably sprained it.

Thomas was suddenly beside me, pushing me. "Go, go, go!" "I can't!" I cried, yelping as I landed on my hurt ankle. "You go." Thomas looked at me for a short moment, then shoved me the other way. "I'll distract it! We have to split up. Go straight and left, I'll go straight and right. I started to limp run as fast as I could. If I strained it to much it wouldn't heal, then I'd be crippled. Like Newt. I shoved the thought from my mind. I was a terrible, terrible person. Just as I rounded the left corner Thomas sprinted past me and turned to the right, the Griever following him with inhuman speed. I watched them disappear down the corridor, then groaned and fell to my knees, struggling to keep whatever was left in my stomach down as it flipped. I hoped there wasn't actually worms in my stomach. I knew I didn't have much time, but my body didn't care, all it wanted was to get rid of my dinner. I burped, struggling to my feet. I started to walk as fast as I could. I had been going for about a half an hour at a steady pace when my stomach suddenly lurched, and the Walls started to sway. My stomach went crazy, and I could almost hear it turning. I tried to calm myself as the walls spun around me. I hiccuped, and blindly kept walking. Suddenly I was staring down a corridor, but what I expected to be more walls it some ivy, all I saw was this strange whiteness. And the pain was gone. Am I dying? I thought, walking briskly towards it. I could see clear, and I felt fine. I peeked over the edge of the end of the concrete, and saw the Wall stretch on until it disappeared. Was this some kind of trick? I heard a shout, and turned to see a flash of light brown sprinting down the corridor towards me. I took a few steps away from the ledge, inspecting her. She looked frantic. "Ricky?" I called. Then I realized she wasn't going to slow down. I had just come to realize this fact when she slammed into me, sending me flying dangerously close to the edge. I landed on my back, head hanging off the edge. A certain someone grabbed my foot and started to push me farther off the edge. I screamed and started to kick viciously. Ricky gave up and threw herself on top of me. I shoved her off, flipping to my feet and immediately moving away from the left. I was slammed into again, but this time I shoved back, only stumbling a few steps before regaining my balance. We were arm in arm, I punched her, and she spit blood in my face. I backed off for a second, both of us catching our breath while eyeing each other. "Just make this easier." Ricky pleaded. "I don't want this. But this needs to happen for the Variables to fall into place. I spat on the ground, shaking my head. "I don't know what your talking about Ricky. It's on the edge of my mind, just too far to grasp. But I remember what I've done. What we've done." Her eyes widened, and I nodded. "We're WICKED." She nodded slowly. "That's why I have to do this. I have to kill you. You understand now. You knew the risks when you fought your way into Maze. You should just let me do this, please." I straightened up with a sigh. I stayed silent for a long moment, finally realizing. "You're right." I murmured. Her eyes widened. "I am?! I mean, I am." I nodded and moved forward, blocking her way into the rest of the Maze. I held out my hand to shake. "For the Variables." She straightened up, and we made eye contact. "For the Variables." Our hands held for a moment too long.  I looked into her eyes. "It's been good Ricky." She nodded, and I could see tears in her eyes. "It's been good. I'll miss you." I almost felt bad for what I was about to do. She turned to the cliff, her back to me. "What do you think-" I'll never know what she was going to say, because in a last ditch effort, I shoved her back as hard as I could manage. She screamed and spun in midair, meeting my eyes as she fell. They were so full of fear and question. I dropped to my knees. She opened her mouth, but I'll never know what she was going to do, because she disappeared. I'll never know a lot of things. Like if Newt actually loves me. Or if Minho meant what he did. At this rate my odds on survival looked pretty dim.

The pain hit me like a brick, and I fell to the floor, screaming. My head, stomach, everywhere. I pulled myself to the ledge, and blindly vomited. When I was done, I lay there limply, feeling like klunk. I stared at the stars, wishing the Grievers to come and end it all. The sky slowly lightened, but I knew a Griever would be coming soon. There was no way I was going to get away with lying out here in the open, defenseless, without harm.

And then I heard the shouts and yells. I jumped to my feet, leaning against the wall as I tried to concentrate on what I was seeing. There were blurry shapes rushing towards me.  I squinted. Was that...was that...? It was like someone flipped a switch, suddenly everything snapped into focus. Minho and Thomas were running towards me, and almost on their tails, in a straight line, were three Grievers. They reached me, and Thomas pulled me into a hug. I whimpered in pain, and he pulled away. "I got an idea." Minho said. I stood off to the side. The only thing I was capable of causing was trouble. Especially in my state. Minho and Thomas turned to face he oncoming Grievers, standing side by side. I immediately saw their plan. In fact, I almost expected them to hold hands. I closed my eyes and pressed my self against the Wall. And in moments, it was over. There was the screech of metal against stone, and some inhuman screams. I opened my eyes just in time to catch Minho and Thomas snap kick the last Griever over the edge; sending it to its almost certain death. But it disappeared. Just like Ricky. Minho and Thomas stood there, heaving breaths. They had both just glanced over at me when a weird feeling started to spread through my fingers and toes. I tried to open my mouth to speak, only to find myself paralyzed. My legs suddenly gave out, and I barely missed taking another concrete punch to my head when Thomas caught me. "Lizzy?! Lizzy, come on, what's wrong, we've made it." But I couldn't move, or do anything. A blackness was slowly covering my line of vision like a heavy blanket. "She's probably in shock." Minho said in a monotone, feeling for my pulse. "All we can do is wait for the doors to open so we can treat her." The last thing I felt before the heavy blanket covered me completely was Thomas curling up next to me, and bursting into tears.

•••••••

I felt my face rubbing against soft cloth, and a subtle bouncing. I still couldn't move. I was curled in someone's arms, and they were slightly jogging. We made it. I concluded groggily, wishing I could open my eyes. It was about ten minutes before we reached the Glade. And we were bombarded with questions by a certain blonde Brit. "What in the bloody hell? What are you doing here who are you alive? Where's Alby and Ricky? Is that-? Is that Lizzy? Give her to me." I was switched into a more familiar pair of arms, and I slowly breathed in the comforting scent of Newt. "We've gotta get Alby." Thomas said. "You need to come to the Medjacks with me." Newt was nervously smoothing my hair on my forehead. I could almost feel myself burning up into shrivels. Jack and Blair can get him, wherever you shanks stuck him. And then Newt started to jog towards the Medjacks. With his limp it was a bit uncomfortable, but I didn't mind. As long as I was in his arms. I could faintly hear Jack and Blair demanding to know what happened to me, and where the hell Alby and Ricky were. I wish I could talk, reassure everyone. But I was still paralyzed. I could hear gasps and shouts as we crossed the Glade. Soon we were in the Homestead, and I was being lain on rough sheets. Stinging antiseptic was being applied to my many cuts and scrapes, and it hurt like hell. "What the shuck happened to her?" Jeff sounded stressed. "I think she might have a concussion." Thomas stated. Silence. "What?" Minho sounded weak in the knees. "Yes." Thomas nearly shouted, and someone, who I assumed was Minho, was harshly slammed against a wall, and something shattered. "You heard me. And it's all. Your. Fault."

"Wow there, Tommy, bloody hell, explain what you're talking about.

And so Thomas proceeded to tell the story. Clint concluded I probably had a concussion, and they opened my eyelids to shine some freaky light into them. Nobody knew what had happened to Ricky, and I felt a horrible feeling in my stomach. My fault, it seemed to whisper. I involuntarily moaned. A hand was smoothing my forehead. "What's wrong with her?" There was some silence where I'm sure Jeff and Clint consulted. "She'll come to soon. But she won't be able to do anything, if its a concussion. She'll probably have to sit for a few days before she's even 3/4's of the way back to normal. Even then she'll still have a burning fever. But she can probably hear you right now." I heard the sound of people leaving, and then a chair screeching across the floor. Newt?

"Feel better soon, Lizzy." Thomas whispered.