ADRONITIS (II) : tmr minho

32: I could be Honest

Ella 32

For a second, I feel as if the world has returned to a grey scale. The sky is steel but glows above us. The air is filled with cinders and ashes that land in my hair and on my skin. It is raining, but it is also snowing. All that falls burns. It lands on the ground, cushioning the soil. It fills the cold and bitter wind and enters my lungs.

Smoke leaves and burns the air. It is a scalding cup of coffee that burns my tongue and wakes me up. It is heavy, compressing me firmly against the Earth, a flower folded between the pages of a novel to be preserved on paper.

The smoke is much darker than he was, a sort of charcoal. I remember that about the smoke man. He was white, and cloudy, and thin. This is thick and it strangles my lungs. I stand so close all the same, letting it take me in. It's warm too, and almost filling instead of constricting.

They burnt down the Map room. I don't know who, but they is enough. Our world crisped and crumbled below us. All of it died beneath our feet. There was a way for us to escape, but now there is nothing. Our hopes reduced to small cinders, whispers of memories, whisked away on the wind.

I glance down at my hands. They are the same brown I remember. They are still real, and they still feel. Every inch of skin is mine, and it is colour. It is not grey, nor white, but black through and through. I know we can still see now.

Even though the fire has destroyed much, the warmth is delightful.

There are Gladers, moving around me, but I barely see them. Others rushing forwards, helping Alby off the ground. His head is bleeding, but it is a red herring.

I step away, moving further from them all. Moving back into the Homestead.

I spot the girl. She moves with the boy I do not like down the stairs, following deep after them.

Teresa and Thomas

It hurts to think their names. It scratches at the surface of a memory that is halfway between here and forgotten. A bug bite that bleeds.

They open a door I do not recognise and enter it. I follow them. The sole of my shoe slips on the ground, wet and slippery. I look down.

There is blood pooling on the floor from a fight I did not witness. It sinks into the fabric around me. Into white sheets, and yellow sheets, and violet sheets, and everything. It takes on its own life, spreading rapidly. This is what violence does. This is what confusion and chaos causes. I don't know why we are here, but I will find out. I will find out the truth.

The only salvation to suffering is knowledge. It is the only hope our future generations can have.

I take a step forward. As I move forward, my shoes trail blood behind me.

I open the door they entered.

Newt and Minho are in the room, as well as Thomas and Teresa.

"Hey El," Minho jumped in front of the box he was opening, but from here I could see what they are.

The maps got out.

My eyelashes flutter across my face. I can see, the vision coming in and out of focus. Their jaws are ajar, their faces dirty. Have people always been able to see me the way I see them in this moment? This vulnerable, this terrified? I step forward. "You have to let me help you."

"What?" Thomas jumps in. "What are you talking about?"

I don't know what to say. Teresa stares me down. I don't like her. I tried to attack her. I want her dead. She tore us apart, right? Isn't she the reason I'm here, Violet girl? Well, I think sort of. I don't remember what it was that I knew, but I think we are close. Or were, in position but not in character. A pawn for a pawn, a simple switcheroo.

Solution: do the switch now.

"I remember," I tell them.

This is when Thomas freezes. His heart seems to stop in his chest since his skin goes cold. He remembers when I attacked him, because of course he does. I needed to attack him though. Even if I forgot why.

"You, you attacked me when I first got here," he manages. "Is that why? You thought I was evil; is that what you remember?"

I'm still not convinced in your favour Thomas.

"You did take something from me," I look at him, then at Teresa. "Both of you. I've forgotten now, but you stole her away."

"Who?" Thomas continues.

It doesn't matter. Even if I explain it to him, he won't get it. There is a whole realm of possibilities above this grey ceiling. I can't even begin to explain to him where she went if it wasn't here.

Where did she go? Where did she go if not to the Glade? Where is she?

Solution: we are not the only experiment.

Solution: the four of us girls, were supposed to go over there.

Solution: the thing that malfunctioned with my head, was something I did.

Solution: I botched it.

Solution: we broke the rules. I busted their game.

Solution: we were a coalition, bent on destroying.

Solution: this is my fault.

Some how they are able to continue it though, which doesn't make any sense to me. How does it keep going and going and going when I was supposed to be some place else? Why didn't I send myself to her? Whatever I believed in, I believed in more than her. I just forget what it was. It seems impossible, doesn't it? To believe more than to love? To give up her soft hands and sweet smile for a harsher truth?

"It's not important," I tell them. "I need to help you get out of here. There is someone I need to get back to. Someone I need to see."

Someone I need to love.

Newt looks at me, glancing up then down at his hands. His cheeks turn red, before he looks down back at the box.

Minho looks back and forth amongst the group. As if waiting for an answer from them.

"I know about how we got here," I tell them, crossing my arms over my chest. "I remember. I know what the trial is. I know who designed it, and what they designed it for. I know why we lost our memories. Do you want my help or not?" My words are white in the air. They won't know, will they? They won't ask.

"Yes," Thomas is the first to answer.

He stands up on his feet, looking back and forth. "We're going to get paper and pens. You and Newt should stay her and watch the maps."

He leaves, along with Teresa and Minho. I only wanted to talk to the two of them. Not to Newt.

He looks me up and down, waiting for me to speak. When I don't he sighs.

"Leo told me she suspects Clint didn't something to your head," he manages. "Are you sure you remember before the Maze?"

I shake my head back and forth, leaning against the wall. It is hard, and musty, and real. I forget what reality is sometimes.

"I remember Teresa and Thomas," I tell him. "I remember I didn't like her, nor him, but I don't remember why. I remember the girls too, and that I don't like the people who put us here."

"What bloody shank does?" He asks, he knees groaning and cracking as he stands up.

"I loved a girl and I never told her," I tell him. I don't remember if I told her or not, but its what Newt needs to hear. His cheeks are still flushed. "I think she might have known, but I don't know for sure. I need that certainty. I need to have said those words."

Newt stares at me for a second, before sighing. "It's harder than you think."

"It could be harder," I tell him. "If I never see her again, that's harder."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love Ella. So fever dreamy. I love Newt too. What do you think happens next? What do you think Newt and Ella are going to do from here?

I will see you soon, in Leo and A Forced Confession.