SONDER (IV): tmr thomas

41: I should know better

Ella 41

My eyes refuse to open. I pull at them, and pull, but nothing. This condition is not new. In fact, my head is pounding and my whole body is sore. It's as if I hit my head during a seizure, although I know that I have not had a seizure in weeks.

I let my hands search around me. Blankets, coarse and heavy, cover my body. I force my hands up to my neck, each movement difficult, as if I am a clock hand ticking against time. Eventually, I make it there. My shoulders are clothed, thankfully. The back of my neck is bandaged.

"Em?" Footsteps creak against the fragile building. A hand steals my fingers away from the bandages, taking it and squeezing it.

With the other hand, I move up to wipe my eyes. They've crusted over. I manage to wipe some of the sleep away. My eyelashes flutter over.

Beneath me, Sonya squeezes my hand until my fingertips begin to turn red. She kneels on the ground next to the bed, her head propped up on the sheets so she can stare at me. Her eyes are full of tears, but her lips form a wide smile. She let's out a breath that I would mistake for a laugh.

"Emily," she continues. Our hands are intertwined. She breaks away to lift her fingers up to my cheek. As she does so, she sits on the side of the bed. "I thought that... there was so much blood. We had to-"

"Give me a blood transfusion?" I ask.

Sonya shakes her head. "Just stitches."

I bite my lip, turning to stare up at the wood ceiling. It is identical to the floor below me. Apparently, however, I can't just repeat the past, even if I'd like to. Another blood transfusion would've killed me, I imagine. That isn't what I want, but this isn't either.

"While I was unconscious, I remembered my name," I tell her.

Sonya lowers her hand from my cheek. I look down at her, watching her fold her hands in her lap. Now that I'm free from her grasp, I begin to pull myself into a sitting position. She can't resist the temptation to help me up. We lean my back against the wall.

Though there isn't much room, Sonya pulls her legs up on to the bed. She tucks the underneath her, so that she sits on her knees. She lets out a puff of hair, which blows a blonde strand of hair out of her eyes. She tries to tuck it behind her, towards her bun, but it still hangs there. Her eyes are still watering.

"Emily..."

"It's Finn," I lie to her face. For now, Finn is the closest I can get to my actual name. That is, until I figure out how to reverse what WICKED did to me through torture. Or, until I escape here once more and go through their files until I find myself.

Sonya inches closer to me. "Finn... I just..."

"I don't remember yours, but I know I can find it," I continue. Suddenly, I can feel my black curls on my neck. My hair hasn't gotten longer in the time I've been conscious, but now it feels like it is swallowing me whole.

It's then that I realize everything is clear. I can hear the wind coming in through the floorboards, and feel the texture of the sheets, and see Sonya, all at the same time. Nothing is exclusive anymore. Whatever I did whenever I was last conscious, seems to have worked. I am entirely awake now. When Jane comes, I will be ready for her.

"Why do you care so much about the past?" Sonya asks. I watch her eyes flicker down to her lap. Actually watch her. Watch her blink away tears. I've never noticed how small her nose was compared to the sadness that drenches her. Perhaps I should be horrified, but all I can think about is her beauty. It has gone unnoticed by me for so long.

I lean forward to take her hands, but she shrugs them off. Her shoulders move as she breathes. Thumb to her cheek, she attempts to wipe away the tears. However, she can't take the redness out of her eyes.

"Sonya," I shove my hands underneath me. That is the only way I can keep myself from exploding. The past is everything. "Someone tortured me as a child, over and over, for hours at a time. Someone took you away from me, and someone killed Eli. I can never fight WICKED for what they've done to me. But the betrayer... Leo, I can fight her."

"Why would you fight her over something she doesn't remember?" Sonya's voice croaks.

My hands begin to shake, rattling the rest of me along with them. If Leo doesn't remember, I will make her remember. How could she forget taking Eli away from me? It's her fault that she is dead, and her fault that my brain is like this. All of it is on her. Her choices have brought me here.

"Emil- Finn," Sonya corrects herself midsentence, but it feels wrong. She stands up, moving on to the other side of the bed. I begin to peel after her, but as soon as my feet touch the ground, my head begins to sit. All I can manage is sitting on the edge of the bed, praying she will come back to me. "I can't do this."

"I don't care if you can," I tell her. "I can."

She pauses in the doorway. Her pale knuckles hold on to the frame. Sonya barely peeks over her shoulder at me. For a second, she waits.

Then, she leaves.