SOJOURNER (III): tmr gally

16: I should have known

Ella 16

"You're not going to sneak off again, are you?" The crowd around us has quieted, while the rain continues to rap down on the roof. It is steady, and firm. Despite the nature of the Scorch, the room feels cold.

I shake my head back and forth, leaning against the wall next to her. She holds a metal water bottle against the back of her head. There is an eruption of colour across her face, but she chooses to focus on the grey cut. The grey doesn't mix well with her blonde hair. She and the smoke don't belong together.

"Sonya," the word is soft against my lips. Almost so much so that I forget it's been assigned to her. Not a real name. Prettier than mine though.

She glances over at me out of the corner of her eyes, before looking back down. She stares into her lap, shaking her head back and forth. I follow her movements, diverting my gaze. Every time I look at her, she flinches.

"Ella?" Sonya counters.

It's just nice to be with her again.

My hands quake, before I look up at her. There are so many words to tell her and now I can't figure out an order to string them out in. They stumble and fall over my lips, slipping in my mouth as they try to escape.

She sighs, lowering the water bottle. The metal echoes as it touches the ground, and I wince at the sound. No one turns to look.

"It's about Emil, isn't it?" She doesn't seem content to answer me. She sticks her hands out and begins to pick at the dry skin peeling off her hands. In defeat, she drops them immediately. "You want to know how he died."

Yes, and also no. The truth isn't something I want. I need it like air. When I think about forgetting, my throat closes in on itself and I start shaking. Ignorance is almost like drowning.

Sonya leans her head against my shoulder. Her neck tenses for a second, but then she learns to relax it. My whole body is as stiff as a board. "You remind me of him. Weird behaviour and all."

He was much kinder than me. I am to resilient.

"He was sick," she tells me. It's an echo of words I've heard Leo use to describe me. They tell me that she didn't know him. She was like his Zart. "Emil killed himself."

"She's pretty," he smiles, his eyes darting across the lunchroom. They land on her.

She really is. I mean, like, the whole room couldn't take their eyes off her if they tried pretty. Beautiful like nothing I've ever seen pretty. Beautiful like in the movies, where you see her and then everything slows down. Where our mundane days could feel energetic.

"Yeah, I guess," I pay more attention to my food than her, which is quite the change over the last few weeks.

"You're lucky," he offers, gesturing to her. "My bunkmate is a big dumb teenager. At least she looks like someone you could talk to."

That's where he's wrong. She's so pretty that I couldn't talk to her even if I wanted. That's the way things are around here.

"Does he suck that much?" I ask, looking back up.

"Big time," he rolls his eyes. "I don't think I'll live through another night with him."

"I didn't know he was upset," her cheeks are flushed pink, as she stares at her hands. The red lines, imprints from her bindings, still wrap around her wrists. They ensnare her and hold her in a false prison. Eli should've been there. He would've stopped it. I know him.