Gardening definitely beat the Bloodhouse, but weeding all day? Not what you wanted to do for the unforeseeable future. The day before, Winston had had you help him butcher a pig. You didn't mind blood that much, but certainly had no desire to scrub it from your hands and nails. But if you worked in the gardens, your back would just about kill you. It already aches from bending over for hours upon hours.
The Keeper of the Gardens, Zart,seemed like a nice guy. He was quiet, but you couldn't blame him. After all, you were too unless someone wanted to talk to you.
By the time the lunch bell rung, you were covered in dirt. It had found its way in under your nails and into the creases of your skin. Your clothes were even starting to blend in with the others, too: muted by ground in dirt.
"How was the gardens?" Newt asks as you finally sit down for lunch.
You pluck a leaf from your hair. "Not great, but better than the Bloodhouse."
A small smirk finds its way to Newt's face. You want out, but maybe the Glade won't be as bad of a place as you'd first thought.
YOU ARE READING
The Cost of the Cure
FanfictionOne day, you wake up with no memories. You know two things: your name and the fact that you are terrified. You find yourself in a strange place called the Glade. Even though no one else remembers anything at all, you find it harder than ever to brea...
