The Destroyed Girl

Chapter 17: The Cure

RHEA'S POV
I stay in my bed and don't sleep. I'm so lost in everything. In a sea of lies built by WICKED and my parents.

The sentence repeats itself in my head. The only thing in my life that isn't a lie is Newt. Newt, the boy who I care about more than anyone who's-because of this virus that caused all these problems-infected and might die if I don't get a cure. And also a boy who thinks I'm dead.

I finally decide to go out. I wear my normal black tee and combat pants, shoving my feet into the old combat boots and shrugging on a loose jacket.

I walk out and to where they keep the kids.

No one intercepts me when I open the door to the canteen, though there are at least five WICKED guards guarding the door.

Everyone's faces turn to face me, both boys and girls. Two groups. Group C and Group D.

My heart breaks at the sight. I don't show my emotions though. Though I'm mostly feeling none.

The doors close behind me and I take a step forward, examining all the wary, curious, innocent faces.

"Who are you?" A boy demands.

"Did they treat you well?" I ask, tilting my head as o examine the group of them.

"What?" A girl questions.

"WICKED. Did they hurt any of you?" I ask, eyes searching for him. For my half brother.

"No. They say we've been released from them. But we're still here. Don't you work for them? Are you new?" Another boy questions.

I frown. "No, I don't work for them. You are still here because there's no other safe place. And you have been released. By me."

Several people gasp, several look unconvinced.

"What's your name?" A girl asks.

"Rhea," I say.

"Your full name," Andrew speaks up, and my eyes fasten on him.

I look at him carefully, trying to find the similarities between us. His sharp features, his pale skin. I have all of them too. But his hair is a light brown, and mine a raven black. His eyes are blue. Light blue.

"What's yours?" I question back lamely.

"Andrew Hunter Allios," He says, a voice full of confidence and authority.

She kept our names.

I swallow, seeing the pale blue of his eyes that match Ava's. "Mine's Rheana Anderson."

"Nice to meet you," Andrew says, cocking his head to one side. "You don't have any weapons."

"They won't give me any," I answer truthfully, crossing my arms. "They're afraid I'll kill them all."

Andrew raises an eyebrow. "Will you?"

"Not everyone. Just certain people," I answer, a crooked smile forming on my lips.

"So why are you here?" The same girl who asked for my name questions. She seems to be fifteen as well.

"What's your name?" I ask her.

"Tessa," She answers, brows furrowing. "Now answer my question."

"I'm here because of the cure. In order for your release, I gave myself up," I answer flatly.

"Why?" Andrew demands, an eyebrow raised.

"Why? Because I know where you are going to be sent to. And I don't want any of you to experience what I did," I answer, remembering the Maze I was in, remembering the suffering that they put us through.

"What did you experience exactly?" Andrew asks, frowning.

"Nothing nice," I say. "Who's the best of you here?"

A boy rolls his eyes. "Andrew and Tessa, of course. Andrew for us guys and Tessa for the girls."

I nod slowly. "How long have you been here?"

"Mostly for all our lives," A girl answers.

"Don't over exaggerate, Penn. Maybe ten years," A boy says.

"Some of us have been here longer than that, Detroit," Someone else replies.

I shake my head. "Like?"

"Andrew has been here all his life," Penn pipes up.

I nod slowly. "I'm sorry for all this. But I'm going to make things right."

Andrew's eyes narrow. "How can we trust you?"

"Well, in this place, it's either me or WICKED," I shrug, spreading my hands. "I know who I'd choose."

~

"Rhea!" Teresa shouts, and I run into the Examination Room.

"Are you okay?" I ask, forehead creasing as I look around for the source of her panic.

Teresa's eyes are wide an frantic. "There's a cure. We just found a cure."

My mind goes blank. "What?"

Teresa runs out and to the Experimental Wing. She leads me into a room. Beyond the glass pane, there's a kid there. A small girl. A Crank. Lying on a bed, hands and ankles strapped to it.

The sight tears my heart to bits, makes my jaw tighten and my fists clench. Teresa glances at me, placing a hand on my shoulder as we stand behind the glass panel that separates us from the room. "It's okay," Teresa whispers. "We're going to save her."

At Teresa's signal, the doctors donning hazmat suits inside the room begin to inject her with a vial of blue liquid.

I wait, anxious and unmoving. Two minutes pass. The black in her veins start to pull away, and as I watch, they return to their normal colour and her eyes clear, the brown of them replacing the crazed, manic bloodshot expression she wore earlier.

She looks human again.

The Doctors are all still for a moment. Stunned.

I move as if controlled by someone else. I throw the door open, rushing in, eyes wide as I survey the girl. She looks around, meeting my eyes in confusion.

"Where- where am I?" Her voice is hoarse and scratchy, scared and disoriented.

I swipe the keys from the table and undo the straps. I help her sit up. Fight down the lump in my throat. "It's okay. It's okay. You're okay."

Her eyes meet mine.

"Who are you?" She asks slowly.

I make a choking sound of strangled laughter. "I'm Rhea. What's your name?"

"I- Willow. My name is Willow," She says, forming the words slowly.

My hand reaches out to take hers, and I squeeze onto it tightly. "Willow, sweetheart, we just cured you. You had caught the Flare, but we injected a cure into you. How do you feel?"

"I had the Flare?" Willow's eyes widen.

I nod. "Yes. The doctors need to run some tests to make sure you're fine, and we'll need to keep you in observation for a while, but I'll take care of you, okay?"

"Thank you," Willow suddenly sobs, and then throws her arms around me.

I'm stunned for a second. Then I wrap my arm around her as she cries into my shoulder.

There's a cure.