ADRONITIS (II) : tmr minho

29: I could be Softer

Leo 29

The sky is grey and threatening to rain. It doesn't rain here though. It is always sunny. There is no sun now. I glance out the window, checking to see if perhaps, hours late, the box came up. It hasn't. I doubt it will, even though it is due today. There are no supplies.

I go back to checking the cupboards. We are running low on a few pain medications, but otherwise nothing. Even adrenaline is fully stocked up, not that we need it. In a few days, we are going to have to start rationalizing bandages, according to Clint. We are going to stop construction on the new bathroom, since it causes to much risk for accident and uses too much wood. We are going to stop bonfires.

Worst, food. Clint wouldn't tell me, but I don't think it'll last us through the month. We're lucky if it lasts two weeks. The animals won't have any food, so we will be forced to eat them quickly, and there is no sun for the plants. The Garden will die.

And we will starve to death.

I run my hands along the shelves of the medical supply cabinet, checking one last time. Praying I miscounted. Hoping that there is more than we have.

I can feel the panic coming on. It's getting to the point where I would take something to physically knock myself out, but I can't, since supplies are low. If I panic, everyone else will start to worry, and then there will be catastrophe. There's going to have to be a Gathering tonight, I reckon. We're going to have to send out more boys to solve that Maze, but I don't know if we even have enough watches to do that. We won't have time to train them, and barely a second to feed them.

The bed creaks behind me. I spin on my heels.

The girl is sitting up and writing on her arm with the pen we use on her chart. It's blurry so I can't read the deep ink stain. She drops her arm and stares at me. As if I wasn't supposed to be here. Maybe I'm not, but she isn't either. We're both girls in here alone.

Of course she wakes up when I am trying to steady my breathing and can feel my knees shaking beneath me. Just my luck.

How the shuck am I supposed to start a conversation with a girl I've never met before? "Hey, you're Teresa, right?"

She skitters back, until she is pressed up against the wall behind her.

I shake my head. "I'm not going to hurt you. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a headache?"

This is a hard decision, because I want her to feel welcome, but I know that if she tells me she is in pain, I'm not going to give her anything. It's for the good of the group, which unfortunately trumps all of our needs.

"We washed your clothing, but the blood wouldn't come out," I tell her, as she examines her new clothes. "We got you some new stuff. Don't worry, you weren't completely naked."

I move towards the bed, and she jumps out of it. She doesn't jump any closer to me. I can't tell if her exit plan is the window or if she is going to tackle me. She is close enough that I can read the words on her wrist.

WICKED is Good.

I don't quite know what she is talking about, but I recognize the word. WICKED. I've seen it on some of the medical supplies before, but never thought much of it. The boys call them the Creators. I wonder what they truly are. Maybe if I asked Ella, she would know.

Teresa still stares at me with her wide blue eyes, choosing not to make a single sound. Her long dark hair wraps around her, encompassing her as if she is swimming in the strands.