ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

41: I'm Real

Leo 41

I don't know what to do, except sit in the hall outside her door.

Though technically it is not her door, at this point the med room essentially has been taken over by Ella and her consistent seizures. Today it was in the Garden. Tomorrow it might be when she is sitting on a windowsill, or when she is eating, or worse.

Alby is supposed to come by and I am supposed to talk to him. It ought to be Clint who explains the situation. Clint has more expertise than I do, and he also is the Keeper of the Med-jacks. It can't be on me to tell Alby exactly why Ella should be permanently moved into intensive care, and to, on top of that, explain why she should abstain from the very first rule of the Glade: Do Your Part.

It should be Clint, but I represent Ella at the Gathering. I mean, technically Zart and I do, and he has slightly more authority, but she is technically my jurisdiction.

Not that any of that has any significance. Ella just has had her third seizure in less than two weeks.

I move to my feet. This can't keep happening. I've got to do something, and I am not powerless. I march myself into the cabinet, staring down the bottles inside. I don't recognise the colour, but I know what I am looking for. Ella needs an antiepileptic drug. She would need broad-spectrum, since we don't have any means to scan her brain. Maybe we have clonazepam, or felbamate, or lamotrigine, or valproic acid, or zonisamide. Of course, we could even use a combination drug. I mean, pretty much all of those things have terrible side-effects from blindness to skin-shedding, but I am running out of options.

"We already checked," I glance behind me, to see Clint staring me down.

Jeff isn't in the room, and I rarely see Clint without Jeff. Sure, Jeff without Clint is a common appearance. Clint occasionally talking to other Keepers in hushed tones, but I've never seen Clint alone.

In two weeks, Clint and I have never had a private conversation.

"There isn't-"

"We haven't got any drugs to stop seizures." He continues over top of me. "I mean, we are lucky we have adrenaline."

"Do you think we could ask for something?" I ask. "The new shipment is in two days."

He shrugs his shoulders, as he turns to head out of the room. "I will try."

Of course he makes no promises. Clint is smart. Those people who put us here care nothing for the small girl with epilepsy, who lies in a bed asleep.

Without her, the whole world is grey. From the dull floors, to the dirty walls, to the paint chipping off of the windowsill. How can she be all the colour in the Glade? I barely even know her.

All that I know of, is her innocence.

Clint is gone, which means I am alone. Alone in a room with a girl who is passed out against a bed. I can't look at her anymore. Not when her skin is losing its beautiful brown colour, for one much more grey. As much as we move forward, we always circle back to this. Circle back to Dawn running to the arms of a boy who will get her killed. To Ella, seizing on the ground, the soil on her skin the only colour to her. I don't want to speak too soon, but Michelle has managed to keep out of my hair.

I stumble out the door. In the end, we become what we used to be. Constantly divided, we girls break into pieces as disaster fills our skin. Only reuniting to shatter against the cold floor of the Glade. I never expected it to be ease, but I wanted it to be something.

It's not a story of dreams and hopes. I dream for us all to be together. I dream for Ella to sleep without being forced to by an illness that rots in her skull. I dream of Michelle laughing, in a way that is playful and not mean.