(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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Torn down, full of aching
Somehow our youth would take the blame
Worn out, the way we let it stay
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"Emma..." As Emma turned toward the door at the sound, a small voice called out.
Chuck stood there, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and his brows furrowed with an emotion she hadn't seen on his face before.
"don't ever run out on me like that again... it was scary." Chuck's voice wavered between anger and hurt that cut through Emma more than any of the grievers ever could. His words were sharp, but his eyes were filled with worry.
Emma swallowed hard, her shame settling deep in her gut. She hadn't meant to scare him, to abandon him.
She saw someone in trouble, terrified and helpless, and without a second thought, she acted. It didn't matter who they were, only that they needed help.
But how could she explain that to Chuck? She knew it wouldn't make a difference; she still left him behind.
"I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't mean to..." she murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt the weight of Chuck's disappointment, making her throat tighten.
She bit her lip, fighting back the wave of guilt that crashed over her.
Chuck crossed his arms, his face still scrunched up in frustration.
Before he could respond, the quiet tension in the room shattered as Thomas jolted awake on the ground, gasping for air as if he'd just surfaced from drowning. His chest heaved with panic, and his eyes darted wildly around the room, taking everything in with a frenzied urgency.
Emma snapped her head toward Thomas, her pulse quickening as she saw the raw fear in his eyes. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a nightmare, his face pale, eyes wide, and his breathing shallow.
Teresa, who had been sitting beside him, leaned in too, her brow furrowed with worry. Her hand hovered near Thomas's shoulder, an almost fragile gesture, as though she wasn't sure whether touching him would help or make things worse.
Her voice trembled as she asked, "Thomas, are you okay? What happened?" The words were soft, but the concern in them was thick, heavy with the weight of knowing something was wrong but not understanding what.
Thomas's gaze locked onto hers, but he didn't answer right away.
He seemed lost.
His eyes were glassy, haunted like he hadn't fully shaken off whatever nightmare had just gripped him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, his expression tightened, and for a moment, it was like he was seeing something far away, something no one else could see.
