Bent Memories [minho]

6 •

| work |

The continuous violent tapping on my shoulders are the reason behind my wake.

I blink several times, trying to throw the sleep out of my eyes. "Oh goodness," I moan as I sit up and look at the face of whoever got the guts to awake me from my not-so-beauty sleep.

Alby.

"Rise and shine, Greenie," he says, a faint smirk playing on his mouth. "Get up, we've got a tour to attend."

I slip out of my bag and put my black-gray tennis shoes that WICKED made me wear on before folding the bag into a smaller size. I believe my new lil' bro will put it in its righteous place later.

Speaking of the kid, I find him still sleeping soundly beneath my feet. Apparently he's a heavy sleeper, as one of his feet is now outside his bag, and half of his body is lying on the grass.

Glancing around, my eyes catch the sight of Gladers still sprawled along the field, almost in the same state as last night. I look up to the sky, and black, dark blue, the faintest of light blue, and a little bit of orange in the east side seem to be its colors.

"What is this? I have to get up before it's even sunrise?" I snap at Alby, trying to keep my voice low. He just throws me an annoyed face. He's definitely on his man period.

"There's this thing called 'the Tour' here in the Glade, newbie. It was supposed to be given to you yesterday, on your Day One, but since you arrived so late, we had to suspend it until this very moment. Now get up, you've got another day to live on."

I roll my eyes as I have to keep up my pace with his so many times. I get the feeling that we won't get along well. Don't ask me why.

We approach the nearest wall, and stop in front of a group of thick dangling vines. We stand there, completely still and unmoving, and it confuses me so much. I was about to ask Alby about it when he brushes some vine off and reveals a part of the wall that's been written. With names.

He turns around, and reaches for his pocket and pulls out a knife. "Here," he says, handing me the already rusty metal. "You're one of us now."

I eye the sharp object for a while before taking it, and Alby immediately steps aside. I take a step forward, and look at the scarred wall.

Various names are on it. I catch sight of some–Newt, Chuck, Minho, Siggy, Rick, Gally, Alby, Ben, and so on. But what attracts me the most are the names that have been crossed out. My chest tightens at the sight, and my palm grips the knife harder.

A wave of vertigo washes over my head and the spot between my eyes hurts a lot. I suddenly feel extremely nauseous.

Alby seems to notice it. "Yeah, missy, it ain't lollipops and rainbows all the time here."

I don't give him a reply of any kind, because I know. I know, damn it. I work, or worked, for WICKED, and I know that, directly or not, I put these people in here too. And what nearly makes me go completely crazy is the fact that I don't have a single clue why.

After massaging my temple and letting the swirling inside me slip out little by little, I raise my fist that holds the knife and stab the ice cold wall. I slowly move my arm up and down, bearing the horrendous sound of metal scraping against stone.

I step back and admire my new work. Alby stands beside me, looking up at the new carving on the wall, before turning to me, raises his chin a little, and pronounces 5 words I don't think I'll ever forget.

"Welcome to the Glade, Keira."

We stroll through the field, and I see that we're heading to the Homestead. Newt comes out of the door and meets up with us.