Remember That I Love You - Newtmas

part thirteen

Winston is the Keeper of the Slicers, which apparently nobody bothered to tell Thomas is the most horrifying job of the Glade. Within half an hour Thomas already felt like vomiting so here he sits with the Keeper, outside the Bloodhouse, with a damp rag pressed against the back of his neck. The boys have been sitting in silence for at least ten minutes but Thomas is at a loss for words. What should he say in this situation? He still hasn't had time to process all this information that's being thrown at him. If he loses himself in a moment he can manage to forget this waking nightmare for a few minutes at most, but as soon as he takes a step back and looks around him the choking fear slams back into his chest with a vengeance. How did these boys get used to living like this? Surely they all didn't show up in the box and completely accept that this was their life now, that would be impossible...right? He can't be the only one who feels this way.

"Don't worry too much 'bout it Greenie," Winston finally shatters the silence with his deep, gravelly voice. "Bein' a Slicer a'int for everyone. Takes a real cold-hearted Shank to cut up little piggies like that." He barks out a laugh, Thomas breathes out a tiny chuckle in response but he doesn't understand how Winston could possibly find this humorous.

"I don't get it. How can you guys just accept living like this?"

"'Cause we got no other choice. It's either suck it up and get to work or curl up in a ball and cry like a little girl. Wouldn't you rather be productive?"

"I don't know...it just seems like they should be trying a little harder to find a way out or something."

At his words Winston shifts his body on the little bench they're sitting on to fully face the Greenie. "I'll give you a pass just this one time 'cause you're new here but you're listen to what I tell ya, got it?"

Thomas merely huffs in response, where did this acne ridden kid who's probably the same age as him get off talking down to him like that? Just because he's a "Keeper"? The boy fears he'll never be able to understand the Gladers' logic.

"You can't go flitting around in here runnin' your shuck mouth that people should be working harder. Because me? I'm a nice enough guy, I won't do anything to ya, but take someone like Gally? He'll have ya thrown in the hole faster than you can say Griever. For a place like this to run smoothly we need rules, regulation, without that we'd all be killin' each other in a matter of days. Got it?" When Thomas doesn't respond, picking an invisible piece of lint from his dirty clothing the boy continues. "Look, I know it's hard, okay? In the beginning we aren't too sympathetic to the greenbeans, but that's how we prepare you for this new world you're a part of. None of us remember jack shit about the outside world but it can't be a pretty place if they shove seemingly innocent kids in a maze for no reason and tell 'em to find a way out. Somethin's not right out there, for all we know we're safer here. Maybe it seems impossible but you'll get used to it. We'll start treatin' ya better once you're one of us. Give it a month tops, and you won't be a Greenie anymore."

Finally looks up from his hands the brunette boy doesn't know how to respond. He never expected hearing something heartfelt from any of the Gladers, especially not Winston - the boy had a look about him that screamed unapproachable.

"Thanks, Winston," the boy mumbles. He's about to stand again to get back to work and end this awkward conversation but a few words that just tumbled out of Winston's mouth come to light in Thomas's brain. "Wait...Griever...the hole...what are you talking about?"

This information must have not supposed to have been given to him because the Keeper groans and runs his hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"If you don't already know I probably shouldn't be tellin' ya. Alby or Newt will clue you in eventually, okay? Until then just lay low, another thing you don't wanna do it run around demanding information. Never ends well." Placing his hands on his knees Winston moves to push himself into a standing position but Thomas's hand shoots out before he can stop it, grabbing a hold of the red fabric on his sleeve - with a sickening lurch in his stomach Thomas fears this shirt was originally white but Winston's line of work has permanently stained it a deep maroon.