ADRONITIS (II) : tmr minho

13: I could be Saving

Leo 13

Ella is still unconscious, but I drop both plates I had brought upstairs next to the table, in case she wakes up in the middle of the night.

"I doubt she'll be awake in the morning," Clint had followed me up here, to talk to me privately while Jeff took a shower. "We gave her some pretty heavy stuff."

"She thought you were who, exactly?" His arms are covered in bandages. She scratched him so hard he started bleeding. The white fabric is fraying at the edges, and the blood has seeped through the material in a few spots. Whenever we are outside, he keeps his sleeves rolled down. No one can know about her fit, because she could be banished for her violence. If Ben gets no excuse out of the Changing, than neither can she.

Although, the rules don't apply the same across the board. They are fluid and changing.

"A creator," it's a simple sentence, one that he says without looking at me. Clint heads over to the cupboard, pulling out a clean needle. He takes the yellow bottle out as well, before filling the vile. He puts a stop on the end before carefully handing it to me. "Attach it to your belt."

"Why?" If Ella is out, then there is no threat anymore.

He gives me a soft face, and I understand what he means. It's not Ella he is worried about attacking me.

"Bring her the other plate. It won't do her good to be taken out with low blood sugar," at least he is polite and concerned about her well-being. I wonder if he knows, and how long he has known if he does. Now isn't the time to ask. He checks his watch carefully. "It'll need to be done in a few minutes. Better it is done before she gets out of hand anyway. Before she hurts anyone."

I nod. The vile is cold in my hand, but I tuck it under my belt anyway. It touches my skin, as do most of the medical supplies I carry.

With a nod of my head, I grab the extra plate and head out the door.

She sits at the West door. I take it they still aren't back. From the way Clint was talking, I don't think they are going to come back. Minho and Alby are going to die out there tonight.

Apparently, there was a dead Griever. I've been told they went first thing this morning to check it out. There has been no sign of them in hours, and the Doors are closing in minutes.

Newt is pacing back and forth. Even though his bad leg obviously hurts he moves quickly. His face is much whiter than it normally is, and his hair sticks up in different directions. If it were Dawn and Michelle out there, I'd feel the same. His two best friends, one of whom he loves, seem to have disappeared. I doubt they will return.

Once I walk up, I sit down next to Dawn, passing her the food. She glances at it, then flips it upside down in a swift movement. The food falls on the ground, and she drops the plate on top of it.

"I'm not eating," she tells me. "Go away."

Fry-pan was the one who asked me to bring her the food. She wouldn't accept it from him, and shouted at Dave when he got close to her. I get the feeling Fry-pan and Dave have figured it out, but I hope everyone else just assumes she is upset because her and Minho are friends. Just like her and I, in more ways than I care to admit.

"Ok Michelle," I try to crack a bit of a joke, but I know she won't take it. Although she is entirely here for making fun of Michelle, she isn't entirely here.

Her hands grip the grass, her dishevelled hair falling in her face. He was supposed to be back hours ago. Dinner has come and gone, and there is no Minho. For all we know, he is already shucking dead. Newt was the one who told me about the Griever's corpse. I guess in the end of it, they'll be dead and we are the grievers here. Left waiting for them.