• Trial Two: The Scorch •
||𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃|| Blake is cracking like the stone walls she had escaped from. Each lie, betrayal, challenge, and death pushes her into a deeper hole of emptiness. Blake and the Gladers thought they escaped from the madnes...
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7. When Blake reached Minho. She noticed the way his eyes narrowed sharply in a venomous gaze towards Toby. "I don't trust him."
Blake looked at Toby, he met her gaze with a half-smile. He was too innocent. Too friendly. He confused her with his stories, with his familiarness. She only knew one thing about him... "I don't trust him either."
Minho nodded. "Good that. Now, what did he shucking say? You looked like he told you he was pregnant or something."
"He might as well been," Blake mumbled, she turned towards Minho. "Is it true?"
"Huh? You can't just say something like that without context," he rolled his eyes.
Blake bit her lip but smiled. "That you almost beat the living hell out of Toby and Aris after you found me?"
Minho grinned. "Yeah, and what about it? If I did get my hands on one of those twerps, their faces would look worst than those hanging bodies," his expression sobered, they were quiet for a moment. "I thought...I was angry and worried. There, happy? I said how I felt."
Blake remembered the argument they had before the Griever fight, where she got frustrated over Minho always acting so tough and never sharing his true thoughts. He was trying to be more open and Blake appreciate that more than he could imagine.
"I'm glad you aren't dead," Minho finished. Blake smiled, softly.
"Yeah, me too," Blake paused, trying to think how to word her next sentence. "I thought about you. During the Griever fight. I thought about all of you. You guys are my friends. I know now—I can trust you." After everything that had happen with her memories and wicked, her trust was never going to be an easy thing to get. All the less, they got it.
Minho leaned against the wall. "Is that mean you will stop with that icy glare of yours?"
Blake chuckled slightly. "No. But it means that I owe all my loyalty to you and the Gladers-"
"You are a Glader," Minho interrupted. "After everything we been through, I think everyone would say that too. And that we trust you. I certainly do."
His words went deep, touched her heart. "Thank you, Minho."
"No need to thank me, or get soppy on me," Minho remarked. Blake hit his arm, causing a laugh to burst from him.
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A few days had past and the only thing Blake could think about was the ravenous feeling of pure hunger. It was a hollow chump of a great beast begging for anything to graze its teeth into. She wished she would have eaten more pizza. Blake spent most of those hours sleeping or occasionally drinking tap water. The others did the same, their arms limp at their sides, jaw tense with a desire for food.
