Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)

Chapter 9

(okay, so read this chapter, but also watch this video, because not only is this song incredible, the lyrics are fantastic and they really fit this chapter~)

I lean against the counter, hungrily staring at my reflection. Everything about me is hungry, and fierce like a wild animal. My newly-cut hair is curly and unruly, and my jaw is sharp and angry.

It's my eyes that stand out the most, though. A deep brown, they're full of bitterness and exhaustion. Dark circles stand out against my skin, highlighting the crazed, desperate expression I can't stop projecting.

The muscles on my arms, built with the leanness of a Runner, are tensed as I grip the edge of the counter. I hate myself. I hate the anger running through my veins, but I hate the fear more.

I wish I could just give up. I wish there was a way that I could quit fighting. But... that's WICKED's plan as well. They're just as interested in the ones that die, the ones that surrender.

If I do anything in my life, I want to break their expectations. I want to break their beliefs and destroy what they've built. I want to crash through the walls keeping me in this system of manipulation and lies.

I sink to my knees on the bathroom floor, resting my forehead against the edge of the counter.

I know what I look like now.

I'll never forget that haunted girl in the mirror.

"Ash?"

I had expected Newt, if anyone, to come looking for me. But it's Thomas standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, and I smile slightly despite the storm of pain that's muffling my world.

"I'll be fine," I answer, and his eyes are even warmer than normal.

"Okay. I'm here, Ash." He smiles at me, matching my bittersweet expression, and then leaves.

Time slows to a crawl. I just want to sit here for the rest of my life, letting myself die slowly. But minutes feel like hours, and I'm shivering from the cold of the bathroom floor where I'm slumped.

My eyes are closed, and I don't open them as someone approaches me. I know it's Newt, even before he sits next to me and pulls me into his arms. He's warm, and I breathe a bit easier.

"I know how it feels," he says, and I hold him tighter. "When you're out of hope, but you can't quit, even if it's the only thing you want. I know."

"I just want to break out of the path they made for us," I say, feeling tears in my eyes. I don't like crying, but I don't mind it as much in front of Newt.

"Hey," Newt says. "It sounded like it was the Greenie alarm, but we don't know that it's WICKED that put us here. Maybe we are free, and something went wrong, but we can figure it out, and-"

I open my eyes and glare at him. "Stop. Stop it, Newt. It's WICKED. It's always been WICKED. I'm not going to keep giving the benefit of the doubt like you say. I'm not going to keep hoping that something is different. We're stuck again. Manipulated and trapped and we're never going to be free." I'm yelling by the end of it, unleashing my pain on him.

"But we need hope-"

"Alby was right." I don't know, in the end, why I'm blaming Newt for hoping. But I can't stomach his weak attempts at optimism. Not right now. "Alby was right, and the world isn't a kind place. We didn't die in the Glade, but we're just going to die out there."

"What if the Changing gave him false memories?" Newt snaps, jaw clenched. I'm surprised that he's matching my anger, but bringing up Alby probably bothered him a great deal. "What if none of what he saw was real?"

I pull away from him. "So you think it was all fake? The only images I have of my family, of my life before the Maze, is just a lie?"

"Maybe!"

"Newt, they weren't fake. I know that." Especially because I've had another memory come back, I think, but I don't say that part.

"But what if you're wrong?" He's pleading, trying to get me to believe in something again.

"Then you don't trust me," I growl.

"That's not what I was saying, Ash! Listen to me! I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm just-"

"Heavily implying it? Leave me alone, Newt. If I want someone to doubt me I would have made friends with Gally-"

"Oh, so we're just friends?" His voice is raising to match mine, and I scowl at the unnecessary topic change.

"Well I'm a bit too busy being manipulated by the organization that destroyed my life to focus on anything else in my life."

He runs his hands through his long hair. "Ya know what? I'm done. Come talk to me when you're willing to be reasonable, Ash."

Willing to be reasonable. The words sting, and I clench my jaw as he leaves. I stuff my hand in my pocket, clinging to the big box of matches I took from the Glade. 

I guess sometimes people just can't understand each other.