ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ

Murderous Rage

[Y/N P.O.V]

Firm hands gripped my arms, my legs thrashing about as I twisted in the guards hold. Yelling out, my throat burned as I screamed Teresa and Thomas' names, constantly swinging at the man yet he never faltered. Dragging me along, he shoved me into a room, people dressed in white lab coats instantly taking over.  In the corner of the white walls, a water tank stood dry, a living nightmare waiting to swallow me. Everything had been done to me, the tags, the training, the tests and this was the last part of the process, the memory wipe. Once this was over, the only thing I'd know, is how to survive. Creaking, the cylinder opened, the time I had been dreading the most had arrived. Heart beating wildly, I staggered back, knocking tables over in my hurry to escape. Doctors approached me, falling back when I struck them in the face, kicking them hard. Gripping me tightly, my skin tingled as the guard shoved me closer to the tank, shoes squeaking against the polished floor. He threw me inside, the door instantly sealing. A short buzz sounded, potent liquid spilling over me. Fists hammering, I cried loudly, tears surfacing yet never falling. Bursting into the room, Thomas raced over to me, eyes red and puffy. He shook his head, chest rising and falling faster the more he stared. 

"No!", he yelled, hands splayed over mine.

Filling up, the memory changing liquid was up to my stomach. I knew this was going to happen, that this was coming, I just never chose to accept it. Up to my neck, I watched as a group of guards restrained Thomas, holding him far from me. Taking my last breath, the painful cry of sorrow from the boy stung my heart. Sinking to his knees, he lowered his head, deciding against seeing me face my inevitable fate. You know. When you're drowning you don't actually inhale until right before you blackout. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head is exploding. Then when you finally let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's actually kind of peaceful. 

So, that's what I did, I let it in. 

I awoke with start, gasping in the air like I was still underwater, my lungs feeling tight. Someone rushed to my side, my vision too cloudy to see who. They hugged me tightly as I regained my breath, hushing me.

"Hey, hey", a female voice whispered, recognisable as Allisons, "it's okay, it's okay, I got you". 

Sitting up, my head pounded, eyes clearing to find myself in a fancy room. Old chandeliers and rich furniture. My whole body ached, either the greenish liquid I drank or something else being the cause. Rubbing my back gently, Allison helped me stand, everyone's faces relieved to see me alive.  Thomas was still passed out on a red couch, eyelashes fluttering every now and then. Newt sat by him, deep in thought, head flicking up to give me a small smile when I passed by.

"I believe this is yours", Teresa smiled, handing me my bow and arrow bag.

"Thanks", I nodded, gratefully taking them.

"Thank god you guys found us", Minho spoke, running a hand through his hair, "at least Thomas had some brains with him, aka you".

Soft laughs erupted, a bit off pressure lifted from the air. Scott gave me an odd look, his gaze questioning as he crossed his arms.

'He can't smell the infection, right? No, I'm just being paranoid'.

Bursting through the doors, Jorge dragged a man with him, my expression turning to anger when I noticed who it was. The host. He giggled, despite being thrown about like a rag doll, pushed back into a chair. Tied down, Jorge threw punches to his face, bruises already forming.

"Talk, Marcus", the man demanded.

Attention shifting, he noticed me, giving a breathy laugh as a reply, "oh, I'm glad she's alive, she was my favourite customer".

"Shank", I answered, knuckles white from gripping my bow.

"Well, that's rude", he giggled, grin wide and bloody.

"Marcus, talk", Jorge ordered, giving him a swift slap.

I gritted my teeth, slightly enjoying watching him getting beaten. On hearing a cough, my vision snapped over to where Thomas lay.  I limped over in a hurry, trying to cover it up as much as possible, despite it causing me pain. No one could know about the crank bite.

Lowering down, the sunlight shimmered on his honey eyes, the flecks of gold illuminated. Smiling, a weight lifted from me to know he was okay, a short laugh slipping from my lips. Happy to see me awake, his face filled with relief, the boy taking my hand that was on his shoulder.

"Welcome back, you ugly shank", Minho greeted from behind me, Thomas rolling his eyes.

"Talk, you son of a bitch!", Jorge yelled, a noisy punch echoing the room.

"Who's that?", Thomas furrowed his brows, sitting up.

"Marcus", Brenda answered, "He has ties to the right arm, we're trying to get information off him but... it's been a while since we last visited".

Helping him up, Thomas walked over to the others, keeping a stare on the host, anger filling his features. I stood next to Lydia, the redhead shuddering when I appeared by her side.

"You okay?", I whispered.

"Yeah", she quickly responded, voice cracking with a lie, "I'm perfectly fine".

I nodded, even though I didn't believe her.

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave my home", Marcus spoke in a serious tone yet he was still grinning.

"Listen closely", Jorge threatened, "I don't enjoy hurting you but I'll only ask once, where is the right arm? We'll make a deal, you can come with us".

The man giggled into the silence, "I burned that bridge a long time ago".

Jorge's face fell.

"Besides", Marcus continued, "I make my own deal. You're the one who taught me, never miss an opportunity".

"What's he talking about?", Newt asked, confusion written on his face.

"I'm talking about supply and demand, little boy", he giggled, "wicked needs all the immunes they can get. I lure the kids in, get them drunk, give them a good time and later... Wicked comes in and separate the weak".

Rage surged through me. Nothing like normal anger, this was murderous, I wanted to tear Marcus apart. How could he? The worst part was that could have been Thomas and I and if Wicked knew I was infected, I'd turn into one of their lab rats. Luckily, we had some good friends on our side, ones we can trust.

"You know what? I changed my mind,  Hermano", Jorge sighed, tucking a handkerchief into the man's pocket, "... I do enjoy hurting you!".

Kicking the chair back, Marcus landed with a harsh thud, hysterically laughing at the action. Jorge twitched his head at me, signalling to my bow and arrows. Smirking, I walked over to the host, quickly snatching an arrow onto the string. I pointed it to his head, fear filling his eyes.

"Shes a perfect shot", Jorge complimented, "talk now or else that arrows clean through your skull".

Gulping, Marcus no longer grinned or laughed, instead he looked like he was about to cry, "okay, okay, fine but I can't make any promises. These guys like to move around".

Jorge flicked his eyes up to me and with great will power I let the arrow fall slack as I lowered the weapon. At least I didn't have to waste any. Tugging on the ropes, I aided him in pulling the guy up, he was heavier than he seemed.

"They have an outpost in the mountains but it's a long way away, you have half of wicked on your ass, you're never gonna make it".

"Not on foot", Jorge smirked, patting his shoulders, "where's Bertha?".