ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

03: I'm Fighting

3 Michelle

My fists pound off of the wall one last time, as blood begins to spill out the sides. It's concrete, and won't give in to my rage and anger. Instead, I let my blood colour the walls. We have been trapped since I first became alive. Trapped in a moving cage, trapped in a clearing, trapped in a cement room. Never will we be free it seems, and all I have is my rebellion.

"Move off it, would you?" A voice calls from behind the door.

My feet planted firmly on the ground, I cross my arms and wait for the door to open. On the other side is a tall blonde boy, holding the tall blonde girl. They both talk the same kind of funny, and I think it's only fitting he be the boy to escort her to a prison.

"You'll be let out in a few hours," he lifts his hand and gestures for her to walk in.

She looks in, and he waits for her to walk in of her own accord. Much different from the tomato-faced boy, who through me in like a rag doll. My head is still bleeding from where it smashed off the ground, as well as my fist from where the slammed off the walls.

Moving my hair in front of my eyes, I check it's colour to realise I am staring down a bright red. Too fluorescent to be natural, I wonder what kind of bottle it came from, and what its natural colour is, and why would I dye it.

Probably because the colour suits the blood that runs down my hands well.

When he closes the door, the foreign girl peers around us in the cage, waiting for us to speak.

"How did you get back here?" The brunette looks up from her spot in the corner on the wall, and she cocks her head to the side. "You made it in the maze."

"One of them found me." The girl answers. "His name was Minho, saved me."

"There are monsters." The pipsqueak suddenly pipes in.

Since when has she known that? No one told us that in the time we got put here. Is she working for them?

"Yeah." The funny talker sighs. "They call 'em Grievers, and they are bloody terrifying. I'm lucky to have even gotten out of there at all."

"How did you know about those things?" I snarl, turning to the smaller girl.

"The boy who brought me here spoke." She shrugs.

Of course that's what happened. Not suspicious at all. It's always the ones you least expect who turn out to be the backstabbing traitors. I'm just surprised we managed to figure it out this soon.

"How long have you been in here?" The funny-talker continues.

No one answers, because no one knows. However long she has been out is how long we have been in here. I am aching to be free.

"So, what's our next escape plan?" I muster out. Not willing to accept defeat, I have to move on.

"There isn't one." The brunette's voice chills my next. It's low and solemn, but she speaks as if she knows the truth, and when she speaks everyone stops to listen.

I scoff, trying to brush it off. "There is always a next step. What are we doing next?"

"We are stuck, between a field of monsters, and a maze of monsters." The funny girl continues. "That thing I saw, I'd rather be around these idiots any second of the day then step foot in there without a plan."

"That's what this is." I begin, turning to face the girls behind me. They all stare at me, and I wonder if my voice has as much command as the brunette's did in that very second. It seems as though when any of us talk, the rest of us are really listening. "Making plan."