Ticking Time Bomb [THE SCORCH TRIALS]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
❞I'd been running, fighting an illusion for so long. You didn't make it real, you only made it stronger.❞

INGRID CLEARWATER had been utterly assured that death would reach up to her — stop its running and leap onto her back, latching onto her and dragging her down into a never-ending abyss of darkness. Ingrid had thought about it; thought about it long before she knew what catastrophes would occur. Before she knew her mother would die. Before she knew that all hope would be gone and the only thing that would remain was a void. But, wasn't that the point of hope? To provide something to hold on to, so that even when you are gone, there is still that small sliver of something that wants you to keep fighting? So when it's taken from you, pulled away from your tight grasp on it, what do you really have left? What did Ingrid Clearwater really have left? And, the aforementioned girl had decided long before present day that she wouldn't want to live to see the day that had happened. She would rather stay in oblivion — without chaos. Only peace and promise. The bullet from the gun flew from a gun. But, not the gun that Ingrid was hoping it'd fly from. She had wanted — needed — the bullet to fly into her, rendering her lifeless. But, instead of sparing her life, it had spared someone else's. And in that moment, Ingrid Clearwater had never felt more vulnerable. She had never felt more hopeless. It truly frightened her, every second of it. She had wanted to die; and that thought alone was enough to scare herself and the people around her.

Ingrid's eyes fluttered open, her eyes frantically surveying the scene in front of her cold, paled body. She could make out the man who threatened them, and behind him, the girl who had practically kidnapped them. The group behind Ingrid were already in shock; not just at the girl's reappearance, but at Ingrid's wish for the bullet to pierce through her. Teresa, for a moment, understood. But on the other hand, Thomas looked as if he was about to lay it onto Ingrid, about how she couldn't do that to herself just yet. It was not what Ingrid needed to hear whatsoever — she needed to hear that it was okay with them. Brenda, the girl, lowered her gun, smirking widely, "Shoot me? Are you out of your freaking mind?" Brenda mimicked the aforementioned girl's words, a hint of malice behind her tone.

           Ingrid couldn't even form the words to reply, an exhale of breath the only thing exiting her dry mouth. The only thing that she wanted to answer to that mere question, the one that raised terror in Ingrid, was, "I think I am."

             Brenda focused onto the rest of the teenagers standing behind Ingrid, their face expressions stone-cold. "Okay, come on! We have to leave now," She gestured her head towards the direction she was heading towards. Ingrid followed mindlessly, chewing her bottom lip harshly as she tried to calm down the thudding of her heartbeat. Was she really insane? Was it okay to label herself as that? Her mother had defined insane as being a Crank, and Ingrid was still human. But, she was teetering on the edge on some days, where she would wonder what measures she would go to. She wondered where the confident person had gone — when the silhouette of who she was now had taken over her being, invading her heartbeat and constant worries. When did Ingrid Clearwater lose it all, and how much longer before she crashed? When did Ingrid Clearwater stop being Ingrid Clearwater?

           Brenda kept up a quick-paced run, and she breathlessly whizzed past corners, hoping to escape W.C.K.D before they trap the remaining teenagers and capture them all. The last thing that Ingrid Clearwater wanted was to see Janson once again — but at the same time, it's exactly what she wanted. She craved to know everything about the past of W.C.K.D, what they were hoping to achieve and why Ingrid was never told anything about it. Why she was left out of it. There seemed to be no time for the impending questions that racked Ingrid's mind as she kept up with Brenda, Thomas close on her heels. Suddenly, the sound of music came from each corner of the rooms they were sprinting past, and it was t until Brenda reached a flight of stairs that Ingrid blurted out, "What the hell is that? Music?"