Remember for the Both of Us [COMPLETED]

2: Waking Nightmare

I was woken up by the alarm, ringing, piercing, strident. I curled up, covering my ears, screaming as my head split open with pain. I thought of nothing else, not of whether I remembered or forgot, not of whether they remembered or forgot. It was only pain, and the wishing that it would stop. 

My fingers were sticky with blood.

My head was echoing and throbbing, and the world spun.

And then the top of the box opened, and I shrank away from the light, curling up even tighter--if at all possible. The voices seemed loud, echoing. Yells, it seemed, though it was probably only muttering. 

"No way!"

"You've got to be shucking kidding me."

"Another Greenie? Another girl?"

"Not another 'ending,' please. One was shucking enough!"

"Girls are bad luck around here..."

"Great, another mouth to feed."

"Wait, is she moving?"

"Is she dead?"

"Again?"

"Holy shuck, she's bleeding!"

"Call the Med-Jacks!"

And then, a voice, so familiar it broke through the pain penetrating my skull. "What the shuck are all y'all klunkheads doing? Back up, give her some bloody room! Grab some ropes! Lower the Med-Jacks and myself down there."

Seconds or hours later (I couldn't tell the difference), I felt the thuds resound on the bottom of the lift as three pairs of feet landed. I felt hands on my arms, gently propping me up to this commentary. 

"Ugh, careful!" 

"Shuck." 

And the last voice, meticulously British: "Be careful! She's bleeding, shanks!"

Slowly I let my eyelids flutter open. Three faces stared anxiously at me. The two were on the edge of my vision; so I focused on the middle. I knew the face, but... yet I didn't.

He was leaner, the lines of his face jagged as if drawn by a knife. The lines spoke of hard times, each slash a memory of pain. And his eyes... they were cold glass, completely dead. They were the eyes of a boy with no hope. His hair fell in his face, unkempt. And he looked at me--like a total stranger.

"Who are you?" I asked him, my heart breaking a little in my chest. "Why can't I remember anything?" I asked the questions I knew I was supposed to ask, the questions they were expecting me to ask. But inside, I was screaming, furious. I knew it would be hard to face them, but now, in the moment, it was like getting punched in the gut. Why can't you remember me? What happened to the times we spent together? The laughter? The laughter was all gone from their faces. I looked up at the boys crowding over at the edge of the lift, and saw no laughter, no light, no happiness at all. 

Newt stood up, looking away from me and waving for the ropes to be thrown down. "Who are you?" I asked, panic in my voice. "Where am I?"

Newt turned around, looking me straight in the eyes. "Welcome to the Glade, love. And I think you'll find out pretty soon that none of us know the answers to any other questions you'll care to ask."