Dark Enough -TMR- ( COMPLETED)

Chapter 5

Running was even worse than Eleanor had imagined it would be.

She couldn't imganige how someone in their right mind would submit themselves to that torture. She wasn't in shape, that much was obvious. Her chest hurt, her legs ached and she thought she could collapse at any second. She felt like she had been running for a long time, but she knew if she had a watch, no more than fifteen minutes would have passed.

And Minho did that everyday?

She hadn't told him she was going to run because she didn't want him to make fun of her. She wasn't really Runner material and they both knew it. Well, everybody knew it.

She had hidden herself away within the woods of the Glade hoping nobody would see her attempting to run.

She thought she would feel a lot better, more accomplished, but she didn't. She felt even worse. She couldn't even run a whole lap around the forest.

She didn't stop.

Her legs screamed for her attention, begged her to stop but she didn't.

She refused to give up.

She was weak, but she would change that. She would not stop.

She would run until she collapsed. She needed it. She needed to hurt, she needed to feel the pain. And maybe then, she could stop being afraid of everything around her.

She wasn't tough enough for the Glade? Well, she was going to make herself tough enough. She knew she wasn't really trying to be a Runner. The thought of the Maze scared her to death.

She was punishing herself, she deserved the pain. She deserved it for being useless, for always being scared, for always needing Gally or Minho.

Maybe that way she'd learn to be a Glader, like the rest of them.

She had been running for a long time then, her thoughts consuming her.

She had scratches on her arms and legs from the twigs she run into, but she didn't care. She felt so tired her vision had started to go blurry. But she didn't stop.

She screamed to herself in her head.

Keep going! Keep going! Her thoughts rang so loud she started screaming out loud.

She crashed on the ground, panting heavilly. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode.

She laid there on the ground, every inch of her body hurting, but she didn't care. She knew she was getting mud and leaves on her hair, but she didn't care.

Then, a wave of peace she hadn't felt before washed over her.

For the first time in such a long time, she could think clearly. It felt like she had a broken dial in her mind that had been blasting a non-stop buzz in her head and it had finally stopped.

She was still scared, and lonely, and she felt utterly incredibly small.

And she was angry.

Oh, she was very angry.

She was angry at herself, for being so shucking sentitive about everything.

She was angry at the Gladers for treating her differently, looking at her like she was worth less than them, and whispering things behind her back.

She was angry at Newt for ignoring her ninety percent of the time, and the other ten percent treating her like a child.

She was angry, she was so angry at Gally for getting stung.

She was angry at the boy who looked like Gally but wasn't him.

But most of all, she was angry at whoever put her there; whoever took her life away, whoever took her freedom and her privacy away. Whoever was probably watching her right on that very moment.