❝People can only take so much until they rebel back.❞
Humanity was on the brink of extinction.
First came the solar flares. Then, the fires. The fear. The famine. What came after, was almost unimaginable. A virus. A virus that attacked the brain. T...
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09→"BLAME"
[a year and five months later]
[age 17]
December
0630 hrs
It's been almost two years into the start of the Maze Trials. Over a year since Newt went up. Since the incident that left him with a heavy limp and his broken leg, that broke in three places, healed. Since I met Mary in that elevator. Over a year since Thomas told me about Newt's knowledge of the Right Arm and since we'd conspired to contact them. We've tried, but keep almost getting caught by staff every time we attempt to do so, and we can never get very far into our attempts of contacting them before we're almost caught and are interrupted. It's been a few months since we attempted to contact them that second time.
It's winter, and this morning the heating has been cranked up around the building. I could tell, because I woke up in a pool of my own sweat. There's very little windows around this complex, except in the hallways and dormitories, so this morning when I drew back the curtains, I'd found that it'd rained through the night and the actual temperature had probably dropped, hence why the heating was up high. Groaning at the idea of waking up like that, I roll out of my bed and trudge myself to the bathroom to shower, to rid the sweat from my skin. Ten minutes later, I'm dressed and fresher than I'd felt when I'd woke. Once I've pulled my hair back and up into a bun, a knock against my door sounds. My legs react, and I twist the door handle.
"Happy birthday!" Teresa shrills the moment I open the door to my dorm.
"Oh god ... no." I groan, screwing my face up into a grimace. "Please, no. Don't sing. I haven't forgotten your singing from last year!"
Let's get one thing straight: I'm not a huge fan of birthdays, especially my own. It's the day of my seventeenth birthday, but I'm less than thrilled. Teresa knows this, but she believes my hatred for ones birthdays, even my own, is amusing. Also, I'd almost entirely forgotten that today was my birthday, and would've been one - hundred percent OK with the idea of forgetting for the rest of the day if Teresa hadn't reminded me by bidding me a happy birthday the first second after the door flew open.
"Oh c'mon!" The girl exclaims. "I can't believe you hate birthdays that much."
"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "Let's go to breakfast."
—
0805 hrs
"So." Thomas starts the moment he slips into the observation chair beside me that morning. He'd been running late this morning, so Teresa and I missed him at breakfast. "Is it safe for me to wish you a happy birthday?"
