Stars ➳ TMR, Thomas [1] ✓

Chapter {12}

Feebly, my eyes peeled open, meeting the dying sunshine that seeped through the window and forced them to close again. As much as I could see in brief moments, I found, instead of Maze floor, cold and lifeless, many light brown planks lining with each other. Relief settled into my heart, pain that grazed it now sunk down into an empty pit of my being as it was left forgotten.

Laying there, I forced them open once again and squinted due to the light. Surprisingly, any coldness that ran through my veins, any trace of fear or pain has disappeared and left me in a state of wonder. What happened? Where is Alby? And Thomas? It hit me hard as I remembered what happened before. The weight of surviving the night suddenly, undescribably vanished only to be replaced by the even heavier one; the apologies. For what I've said, the way I've treated him, for blaming everything on him. I realised there was only one person who should take the blame for all this and that one person was me.

Sighing somehow tiredly, drained from the night in there, I forced of all blaming thoughts out and finally propped myself up. At my front stood an unstable counter that was near breaking even with slight movement on which a plastic box and white bandages rested. The room stood small, in its middle white bed and next to it a shaky chair as nails stuck out of its battered legs. A small, also shaky nightstand was close to me, along with a plate on whose plastic bottom lay three cookies and a glass of water already having small bubbles collected near the glassy surface as if it stood there a little too long.

Smiling a small smile that soon disappeared after realising I'm safely back to the Glade, I exhaled a long breath and forced myself in sitting position. That was a horribly wrong move. As if it suddenly turned cold, or even wooden, pain shot from my leg in dull ache like when you fall and twist your ankle. Hurriedly I pushed the blanket off, instantly meeting dozens of white bandages that had a big blotch of crimson in their middle. I still wore the trousers I had on yesterday, only they were ripped and blood soaked, even a hardened layer of green goo covering them on the parts that weren't ripped.

My eyes fluttered shut at the memories, my mind hoping it could erase them like they never existed. These little pieces of what happened, parts of broken mirror that make the whole once you put them together, a snippet of horror that really lurks in the Maze will probably mar my brain until the end.

I opened them again, facing the empty room and dying sunshine, wishing it would all go away when suddenly doors sprung open and Clint walked in. Surprise was one of the emotions on his face.

"Oh, good, we thought you might not wake up." Clint forced the door shut, and took a few calm steps towards me as his worried expression faded into a smile.

Not realising I was that weary, my voice came out as a whisper. "What happened? After the Maze?"

"It was horrible to look at. You almost seemed dead, deadly pale actually." He sat, a squeaking sound following his movement as he leaned forward and offered me a glass of water. I gulped it down quickly.

Now, that I was revitalised, I felt strength flowing into me. "And what happens now? I mean, we survived...umm...barely, but won't there be some kind of meeting?" A sigh escaped my lips.

"Gally and Chris are calling one. Seems like there's enough evidence for them."

"Against me?" This time the forcefulness of my action took even a bigger toll on me, itching and burning in my leg increased considerably as I nevertheless forced myself up, into a sitting position, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You. And Thomas." Like a slap in the face, Clint's words sunk slowly as a great weight of responsibility settled on my heart and pushed the previous guilt away. None of this is Thomas's fault.