Mary: The First Girl

10

I heard the door slam behind me, and spin around to see Newt, with a towel wrapped around his lower half, standing in the doorway. 

I raised my eyebrows, surprised, and he had the decency to blush. 

"Sorry, love. Forgot my clothes. I'm not used to having a roommate." He said. And with that, he moved past me, careful not to touch me, opening his draw and pulling out a few articles of clothing with ease. I noticed his blonde hair looked darker now that it was wet, swept over his eyes in a goofy way. He was as muscular as I imagined, though all the boys were from working here, I suppose. And now, most of the dirt and blood had left his face, and he came out of the fight somehow unscathed.  He now looked tan and smooth, as if he'd never fought at all. As if he was any other boy, in any other world. 

It made me sad for a minute. But the sight of him awkwardly hopping over to the dresser made me giggle.

I snorted, "Have fun." And turned back to the mirror, continuing to brush my hair as I had before he came in, creating a thick, frizzy mess and setting it in a pony tail. I noticed his gaze lingered on me for a minute, and he smiled at me in the mirror.

"Will do." He replied, his voice smooth, shutting the door behind him gently. 

Once he left, I turned back to his bare room, unsure of where to go next. 

Unsure of what to even think.

Would we share the bed? I wondered. Unsure, I decided to avoid the problem all together, and walked over to the window. I watched the hordes of boys get ready for bed, laughing and smacking each other with pillows. They acted like brothers; like best friends. 

And here I was. A girl among dozens of boys. Different in ever sense of the word— except, not really so different. I was just as capable as them, that I knew. And the same desire to escape raged from my insides, encapsulating my whole body in a desperate, tingly, unextinguishable fire. So, really, the only difference was my body: my curves and thick long hair and short stature. 

And it was then, that I realized what I needed to do. I needed to prove myself. Make friends, gain sympathizers. 

I would not be going to someone else next month. I would belong to myself. 

I belong to myself. 

I would fight, if that's what it takes. Train, and fight, and ensure my freedom. 

Or I would die trying. 

And in that moment, I knew I would not stop until I escape— both their sexist grasps and the maze itself. 

And, though I knew little more about myself than my name, I knew I should be proud. I knew I was capable. I knew I could kick anyone's ass that came close to me for the wrong reasons. 

And just like that, I crumpled. My head throbbed, and I slid against the wall next to the window sill, unable to steady myself. A vision flashed before my eyes, sending throbbing pain through my head, pounding against my scull as if trying to escape. I saw myself— bruised and bloody, dressed in leggings and a thin T-shirt, in the middle of a ring. I saw myself dodge a person - a man, I think, before swinging my leg around him and forcing him to the ground. I saw crowds cheering. I saw the same people in the glade today surrounding us. But the man I was fighting wasn't a child, like us. He was older. 

"May wicked be prosperous. May wicked have glory!" I shouted in the vision, triumphant. 

And like that, it ended. My head stopped throbbing. And I saw the room again, thankful that Newt hadn't walked in mid vision. And so, I stood, and walked over to the desk. Pulling out the chair, I let myself sit there in silence, back straight and chin held high, until Newt returned.