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//S A G E//
A SMALL GASP ESCAPES my lips, my eyes shooting open. I try to get up, but a warm hand slightly pushes me down. "Hey take it easy love." My eyes land on Newt, who was sitting on the bed I was laying in. "Are you feeling okay?" I nod my head weakly.
I slowly sit up with Newt's help. He grabs onto my hand, slightly tugging me out of the room and to a different room. I notice the man who drugged me sitting in a chair, tied. Jorge was hovering over him, screaming and punching him. Frypan and Brenda were chilling on the couch, and River was standing with a gun in his hands. My eyes land on Thomas, who was knocked out on the other couch, Teresa sitting next to him.
My eyes watered, and my chest started to hurt, but I clench my jaw and shake my head, making the tears leave. River's eyes scan the room until they land on me, his eyes softing and he moves towards me. He wraps his large arms around me. "You okay?"
I place my chin on his shoulders. "No. What about you?"
"No." He pulls away from me, his eyes following mine, which was still on Teresa, who was avoiding eye contact with me. River frowns, grabbing onto my hand. "What you saw with them was real Say, I saw it too."
I nod my head numbly and he walks away, back to where he was standing. I furrow my eyebrows, if what I saw was real, was me kissing Newt real?
My eyes flicker to Newt, his eyes already on me, and I notice his lips red and slightly bruised. My eyes widen and I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. I quickly walk back into the room I woke up in, my feet carrying me to a bathroom.
I place my hands on the broken sink, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked clean. Someone cleaned the dirt off my face, and wiped the blood off, so now I just have cuts. My lips were bruised too, from kissing Newt. My hand rubs the mark he left on my neck, slightly flinching at the soreness. The makeup I put on back at the building in the scorch, was still there, just faded. My hair looked semi-cleaned as well. I had a large fat braid going down the middle of my hair, but stopping at the back. Small little braids on both sides of my hair, connecting with the big braid, and some of my hair was down on the sides. I'm guessing Minho probably did my hair, seeing that he did it like this before. I clench my jaw at my reflection. My clothes were bloodied, and I notice my big jacket not on me. My eyes widen when I also noticed my machete was gone, off my back. I was just in my black bloody ripped jeans, black combat boots, and the black tank top.
I shake my head, millions of thoughts swimming through my head. Why did I see my best friends are cranks? Is that a sign of something? Why was Teresa kissing Thomas, and why was Thomas enjoying it? An image of Chuck's and Winston's bodies flood through my brain, and I could feel tears filling in my eyes. Closing my eyes tightly, I let out a small angry yell, before slamming my fist into the dirty mirror. Shards of glass flew everywhere, and I ignored the stinging pain in my hand. I glance down at it, noticing the blood dripping down. I run my non—injured hand down face, before exiting the bathroom.
When I entered the main room where everyone was located, I notice Jorge punching the guy and Thomas barely waking up. I clench my jaw at the sight of Teresa placing a hand on his chest, smiling at him. Soft words escape her lips, too low for me to hear. His eyes scan the room, stopping on me. I turn away from him, his eyes boring into the side of my head.
Minho pats his shoulder. "Welcome back you ugly shank." Minho then walks towards me, grabbing onto my bloody hand. "What the hell did you do?"
His voice was loud, everyone's attention turns to me. I clench my jaw at Minho, pulling my hand out of his grasp roughly. I ignore him, turning to Newt. "Where's my machete?"
"Right here." I turn to Brenda who had my machete in her hands. "I took it off for you, and your jacket." I nod my head at her and she tosses me my jacket, and I quickly slip it on.
Another punch echoes through the room, blood gushing down the mans face. "I suggest that you talk! You son of a bitch!" Jorge screams with anger. I quickly slip into the holder for the machete, putting the weapon in the sheath.
"I'm sorry... you're going to have to leave my house." His eyes flicker towards me, then down to my bloody hand that was still dripping with blood onto the tile.
I clench my jaw at him, crossing my arms over my shoulder. Jorge sighs, his hands being thrown around. "Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you. Okay? Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?"
Thomas stands up, standing next to Minho. "Wait, this is Marcus?"
The man, or Marcus, chuckles. "The kid catches on quick. Are you the brains of the operation?"
I roll my eyes, having enough with this man. I walk up to him, his swollen eyes slightly widening. I grab a fist full of his hair, tugging it back making his head look up at me, a cry escaping his bloody lips. "Where are they hiding, Marcus. Jorge might play nice, but I play dirty, and I bet you know who I am and what I can do to you." I growl out, and Marcus clenches his jaw.
Jorge tugs me away from Marcus' bloody face. "Tell us where they're hiding, and I'll make you a deal. You can come with us."
He chuckles bitterly. "I burned that bridge a long time ago. Besides, I made my own deal." He tips his head to the side. "You're the one who taught me, never miss an opportunity."
Newt furrows his eyebrows. "What's he talking about."
Another laugh comes from Marcus. "I'm talking about supply and demand. WICKED wants all the immunes they can get. I help provide that for them. So I lure the kids in.... they get drunk, they have a good time. And then, later, WICKED comes in... they separate the wheat from the chaff."
Jorge clenches his jaw, and snaps his fingers. "I changed my mind, hermano, I will let Sage hurt you."
I'm guessing Jorge promised him I wasn't going to hurt him, but clearly he changed his mind.
Marcus' eyes widen, and I pounce on him. I could actually hear everyone wince, as I slam my good fist into his head, the force of the punch knocking the chair back. The wind gets knocked out of him, and I slam my fist into his jaw again. I unleash my machete placing it against his neck. "Talk! Talk! and I wont cut you up!" I scream in his face, the veins sticking out of my neck.
He tries to put his hands up in surrender. "Okay! Jesus! But I'm not making any promises." Satisfied with my answer, I put my machete away, stepping back from him. Jorge pulls the chair up. "These guys like to move around. They have an outpost in the mountains. But it's a long way away. You got half of WICKED on your ass. You're never gonna make it. Not on foot."
