Run With Me ➵ Newt [2]

EIGHT | the storm

▬We continued walking.

And walking.

And walking.

It felt like we had been walking for forever - my legs were aching and throbbing and exhaustion tore at me, tempting me to collaspe and pass out and never wake up - but I kept going. The others looked just as beat up as I felt, their expressions sore and haggard and postures hunched. Minho's and Frypan's bottles had run out of water, so we had to limit our drinking time - the scorching sun absorbed every single trace of moisture from our mouths, making my throat parched and painful. 

We walked, then rest, then walked some more, and rested. It was a constant cycle, and it had become part of my routine. No one said a single word throughout our journey - we were too exhausted and dehydrated to say anything. 

When the faint traces of dusk slithered into the sky, Thomas called for a rest and we crumpled to the ground, relieved to finally take a break.

"Get some sleep, guys," Thomas said wearily, already laying down on the cracked ground. "We'll continue walking tomorrow."

I wanted to groan at that, but I was too tired. I placed my backpack on the ground and laid my head on it, grateful for rest. Newt was laid down beside me so that we were now face-to-face. Despite my chapped lips, I managed a weak smile at him. He reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it for reassurance.

"Sweet dreams, Rose," he whispered, his voice croaky and dry.

"You too," I whispered back.

-

"Your name is Rosalind."

I looked up and met the doctor's stern eyes. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her stain-free labcoat pulled over her WICKED uniform neatly.

"But my name is Audrey!" I muttered indignantly for what seemed like the millionth time, my eyebrows furrowed together in exasperation.

For days now, the doctors in the strange new compound they had called WICKED had tried to persuade me that my name was Rosalind, but despite my young age, I wasn't that stupid and gullible. I knew my real name was Audrey. I didn't know why these people were trying to force me to adopt an entirely new name for no apparent reason. 

"No, darling, it's Rosalind," Doctor Violet said again, infuriatingly calm. "Repeat after me: My name is Rosalind."

I frowned. "No, it's not."

"Rosalind," Doctor Violet said suddenly. "Please just accept your new name. The others have already adapted to it. Why can't you do the same?"

"But why do I need a new name?" I complained. "I like Audrey!"

"It's vital for your experiments," she said. "I've told you this already."

"What experiments? I don't understand!"

"Just accept your new name. It's Rosalind. Not Audrey. Okay? Say it with me, Rosalind."

I frowned again and stared at the floor. The chair I was sitting on was too high, so my legs ended up dangling over the edge of the seat, my toes inches away from the floor. I was so used to the layers of dust and grime that hugged the floors of my house, so the clean, immaculate floors of this new place was a little disconcerting to say the least.

"But-" I started to say.

"Rosalind," Doctor Violet said firmly. "Your name is Rosalind."

I sighed in annoyance. I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

"Fine," I said, my soft voice full of defeat. "Rosalind. Happy?"