Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Thomas
My eyes snap open as a soft, gentle breeze kisses my skin, goosebumps erupting on the surface of my body.
The air was crisp and clean with each breath I inhaled, and I sigh loudly in content. But soon that was diminished, as the guilt and sadness of the loss consumes me, my head swirling with alternative ways that I could've saved Sam.
My head pounds as I clamber to my feet, wincing at the ache in my side where Janson stabbed me. The wound was patched up neatly, and the area was cleaned and sanitized.
My heart aches again as I remember Teresa's death, just after Janson's, and the moment still fresh in my memory.
I pull back the tarpaulin, acting as a door, and stare out into the ocean in front of me, glancing at the green plants and grass surrounding it.
This must be the safe haven.
My hands find their way to my boots, and I quickly lace them up and leave the small hut. Blinking away the tears as I reminisce all of the good times in the glade, with Sam and Winston, Alby and Chuck too, and all of the brave gladers that lost their lives to get us this far.
My eyes meet Minho's from across the camp, and I sprint towards him in a crushing embrace, patting his back and apologising profusely.
"Why are you sorry?" Minho asks, breaking away from the hug and staring at me with confusion swirling in his brown eyes.
"For Sam, I... I tried to help her, but..." I gulp, fighting off the tears as they threaten to drip down my cheeks.
"She's not dead, Thomas." Minho interrupts me, patting my shoulder lightly and jerking his head to a hut by the ocean, where she must have been. "But, she's still a crank, coming in and out of it every 30 minutes."
My heart was in my mouth as I finally break down in tears; tears of happiness and guilt for not being there for my sister when she needed me the most.
We stop just outside, and smiles sympathetically, patting my back for support as he begins to explain everything. "So, no sudden movements, because she will attempt to kill you if the crank takes over."
I nod, unsure of the 'reunion' we were about to have. My breath hitches in my throat as I step into the room, my eyes lingering on Sam's bloodshot eyes.
Her viens were black and plagued, and they wound intricately up her exposed arms and legs, and onto her neck where they travelled to her face.
Sam's hair was stuck to her forehead, and the struggle of fighting off the crank was evident in her pain-filled eyes. Black drool-like substance dripped from her mouth and onto her chin, as she rasped in each breath.
"Thomas, you're awake." She gasps, staring up at me with sorrow in her brown, red-rimmed eyes.
"Yeah, I guess I am." I mutter, trying to avoid eye contact.
Minho enters the room, fixing his windwept hair as he whimpers about the lack of hairgel, before strolling to Sam's side and kissing her on the lips. "I thought I heard you outside." Sam smiles, returning the kiss.
"Yeah, I was going to come in and then Jorge called me over for some shit. And then the fucking wind picked up and my hair!" He rants, grasping Sam's delicate hand in his and perching on a chair next to the bed where she was chained.
"Thomas." Sam says, capturing my attention once again as I glance up at her quickly, "are you going to say anything? I've only got around 5 minutes before the serum wears off."
I swallow the lump in my throat, "I'm sorry, Sam. I feel so guilty, looking at you like this. I just wish that I was there to fight off the crank when it bit you, and helped you through this when nobody else was there."
"It's not your fault, Thomas. I didn't want you to have to suffer, so I thought it would be best not to tell you, until it was obvious." Sam explains, outstretching her spare hand and grasping my hand in her warm embrace.
I grin at her, a real goofy grin, and she chuckles. But her smiles fade as she glances up at us with sadness in her eyes, "I'm sorry, boys." She gasps, coughing voilently, her hands beginning to shake.
In less than a second, her eyes roll back into her head as she shakes on the bed, gurgles and growls escaping her parted lips. And then her eyes roll back, but the familiar soft brown was nowhere to be seen underneath the black glaze over them.
Sadness fills my heart, as the crank now tugs and thrashes at the restrains, gnashing it's teeth at Minho and I.
If only there was a cure.
The entire world halts on its axis momentarily, as my hands tear themselves from Sam's and scramble frantically through my pockets.
My fingers brush two vials as Minho glances at me sceptically, a dark eyebrow raised in confusion.
I scramble over to the small medical table, taking a syringe and rinsing it through with water. I pierce the lid with the sharp point of the needle, and then clamber over to Sam's side.
The needle sinks into her skin, piercing her vein-covered arms. Her thrashing stops, and a wave of excruciating silence passes through the hut.
A woman scrambles into the hut, retying her apron and pulling on some gloves and a protective flare mask "what have you done to her?"
"I gave her the cure." I force out, my own voice sounding strange to my ears.
"How do you know that it was the cure? It could've been a fake!" The woman cries out, checking Sam's pulse and vital signs as Minho keeps quiet, obviously overwhelmed at the sudden influx of panic.
"I-" I begin but the woman gasps, rechecking Sam's pulse in the crook of her neck and on her wrist.
"That's not possible!" She exclaims as Sam's plagued veins begin to change colour and disappear under her skin once again. "Where did you find that cure?"
"Before the fall of Denver, the cure was discovered, and it was given to me."
A/N:
I'm going on holiday for 17 days, so there will be no update.
And I've run out of mobile data too, therefore, I literally have no way of updating.
