(NOTE: CHAPTERS ARE CURRENTLY BEING EDITED)
In which Teresa wasn't the first girl to come up in the box...
*This is a NewtxOC fanfic*
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Emma wakes up in a dark box, starting her new life with only memories of her name and a boy named Thomas...
the g...
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Now it's been long enough to talk about it
I've started not to doubt it
Just wrap my head around it
I remember when you told me
It's an everyday decision
But with my tunnel vision
how was I supposed to see the way?
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Thomas burst into the homestead, the door swinging open with a loud thud as Emma and Teresa followed close behind. Their footsteps echoed in the tense silence, drawing the immediate attention of everyone in the room.
Newt looked up from where he was sitting, his face a mix of confusion and concern. "What the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded, rising to his feet, clearly startled by their sudden and frantic arrival.
Jeff was hunched over Alby, trying to keep the fevered leader calm as he thrashed weakly against the blankets. Jeff shot them a frustrated look, wiping sweat from his brow. "You can't all just barge in here!" he snapped, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.
But Thomas didn't slow down, didn't acknowledge the chaos around him. With a determined look, he thrust a small syringe into Newt's hands, urgency radiating off him. "You need to inject him with this," Thomas said, his voice sharp and desperate. "It'll save him."
The room fell silent as his words hung in the air. Newt stared at the syringe, blinking as if trying to make sense of it all. Jeff paused too, looking from Thomas to Alby, uncertainty etched across his face.
Emma stood just behind Thomas, glancing between Newt and the syringe, her brows furrowed in confusion. Teresa, standing beside her, wore the same wary expression, her lips pressed into a tight line. Neither of them understood what Thomas was asking, but the weight of the situation had them all on edge.
Newt blinked, taken aback. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, his confusion clear as he eyed the syringe, then looked back at Thomas, Emma, and Teresa with skepticism. "What is this even supposed to be?"
"It came up with Teresa," Thomas explained quickly, pushing the syringe into Newt's hands. "It has to be some kind of antidote. This is what it's meant for."
Newt inspected the vial cautiously, his fingers trembling slightly.
"Whoa, slow down," he said, his voice filled with dread. "We don't know what this stuff is, or where it came from. It could be poison, for all we know. This could kill him, Thomas." He gestured to the bed, where Alby writhed in pain, his face twisted in agony.
Thomas shook his head, desperation edging into his voice. "Look at him, Newt. He's already dying. If there's even a chance this could save him, we have to take it." He met Newt's gaze, his expression unwavering.
