ADRONITIS (II) : tmr minho

31: I could be Blind

Michelle 31

It has been quiet all night but I can't sleep anyway. When I was talking to Thomas, a group of Builders had taken over my room upstairs. I wasn't welcome there, so I here I lie, struggling to sleep on the ground. It's been hours, but the night plagues me. Unlike the others around me, who try to keep still as fear prickles their skin, I am kept awake by the loud thump of my blood pumping, and the angry huff to my chest.

Gally is still gone. There will be no vengeance.

"Can we talk?" Dave has moved next to me, and his voice is but a quiet whisper.

There is nothing to talk about. I don't know what he wants to say to me. He expects an apology, that's for sure, but I don't know what to give him or how to say one. I've already given one apology in my life; isn't that enough?

"I'm sorry," he tells me. My eyes dart to him, lingering on his skin. His skin under his eyes is darkened by the weight of our sins.

It's dark, but I can see him staring at me.

"About Gally," he continues on, a sad look on his face. "It must really suck that he is gone. I can't imagine what that feels like."

He doesn't touch me. He isn't trying to sleep with me, for once. Not that the last time was bad. It was fine. Here though, as a friend, he is telling me he is sorry I lost Gally. No one else has done that. No one else has said anything. Is this because I voted for him for Keeper? That wasn't because I like him or anything, but because he is better than Adam.

It doesn't seem like he cares about that. Maybe, after all this, he does just want me anyway he can have me. I miss him too, but I can't admit that. I want in my life.

But I don't know what to say.

There is whirring outside. A sort of mechanical purring. Boys all around me are turning, crouching, but Newt is up before all of us. He shakes his hands about madly, a finger on his lips. I stand up regardless of his gesture, leaning against the wall behind me.

Outside, the Griever waits, slicing the silence with sharp baldes. It's almost churning and grinding. I can hear what it wants to do to our bodies. The pain it wants to put us in. I can hear its hunger. I sense it, and it is outside the window, waiting for us.

The candles flicker around the room. I can hear the gulping of the boys around me, can smell the sweat wafting over towards me. It's as if we have one collective idea. We're trying to be quiet and still and it is not working.

The candles still and no one breathes.

The backdoor swings open. I can hear David shouting, and Newt shushing everyone at the sound. I thought it would come from the window. There must be two. One back there and one waiting outside. I can't fight off two. I doubt I could even outrun one. Were going to die, plan and simple. All of us at once.

Gally comes in the room. Bursting through, boys flying away from him. It's him, and not a Griever.

He's here. He's alive.

I shift into the wall, as if I'm trying to camouflage. He isn't going to hurt me. After all, he is infinitely better than a Griever. The noise everyone is making isn't though. I don't know why I'm not relieved to see him.

Gally's eyes are wide and searching. His hands are red, and scratched to bits, as are he clothes. His skin is grey and hangs and stretches off him. I don't recognise him. I don't know him. This isn't the boy who stood with me in the Deadheads. This isn't a boy. I don't know what it is. I don't know why it's here. I didn't want this corpse to come back. I wanted Gally.