Betrayed | the maze runner, Newt

chapter 2

Zara's thoughts stuck on a word he'd said.

teens

''Teens?''

''So, teens as in people from my age?'' Zara emphasized.

''Between fifteen and eighteen.''

Zara turned her head away and zoned out with the thoughts that went through her mind. She'd finished her dinner five minutes ago and she started to notice her father was having more doubts telling her things. And she herself constantly needed time to confess the things he told, so she quit understood him. She just couldn't understand there were dead teens in the same building as where she'd been living for who knows how long. Everything just passed her by, and she had no idea until now that he'd told her.

''Only dead?'' She eventually asked.

To her surprise, her father shook his head. When he looked up to see his daughter's shocked eyes, he recovered from his dull expression to reassure her.

''But they don't know about anything of this.''

That in fact did the opposite of reassuring to Zara. Her eyes widened and she straightened her back.

''They don't know their getting killed for a Cure?'' She expostulated. Her tone revealed unbelief.

Janson signed with his hands for her to calm down. 'Think, Zara. Would it have been better for them if they'd known?''

Zara rested her face, looked away then looked back. ''No...''

Janson leaned back in his chair, satisfied. ''Exactly.'' He saw her doubting expression. ''And after all, they will be the heroes to save this world from the Flare by sacrificing themselves to find the Cure.''

Zara lifted an eyebrow. ''Actually, it's not their sacrifice if they don't decide for themselves. It's your sacrifice because you chose to give up their lives.''

''Will you shut up?''

''Don't know, will I?''

Janson stood up and put his hand on the table quite aggressive, making the table tremble. ''It's better for them. Don't think we're the bad guys here, understood? Go to your room, now. I don't want to see you leave that place before the sun's up.''

He left the room with big steps, not even making effort to look back. Zara was still in her chair, gazing at the door as if she could kill someone with her eyes.

''And I don't want to see you before the day I die. Let's kill you and drain your blood. See how you like that.''

Unexpectedly, the cook walked in and looked at her. ''Excuse me, were you talking to me?''

Zara's face took over a perplexed expression. ''Eh, no? I was talking to... myself.''

The cook burst out laughing and waved. ''Don't worry, I do that all the time.''

Zara quickly stood up, plastered an awkward smile on her face and left the kitchen to head for her room.

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Zara lay on her bed, looking at the ceiling. Her eyelids got heavier with the minutes, and it was now only waiting until sleep would come. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes while the thoughts went on.

Maybe you thought she and her father had a good bond when seeing the conversations they constantly had, but nothing is less true. It was nothing like that ideal father-daughter bond. It wasn't even a bond. It wasn't a love-hate bond because there was only hate. Zara didn't really love her father and from what he showed, it didn't seem like he loved her either. Yes, they had the same attitude, but that was probably the only thing. Zara'd never hugged him or received goodnight kisses from him. He never helped her with school or baked cookies with her. Everything was always about his job and himself. He didn't give her much attention. Zara'd always found it hard. And she still did, but less. Something inside her was turned off because of him. And now that she was finally interested in his job, or made it look like she was, he was talking to her. He'd spoken more words to her that evening than in the last three months together.