Him || The Scorch Trials

Twenty Eight

At first, Mara woke with a drowsiness, her mind unable to comprehend what was going on. There was a black abyss surrounding her, a darkness her mind seemed to be engulfed by. Her body was separate, her mind left to float in the space of nothingness, left to fight against the unknown.

There was a hum of voices somewhere in the distance, and if Mara listened hard enough she could make out exactly what they were saying.

"She's losing blood, and fast!"

"Well, what can I do to help?"

"Just hold this, I think I've got it."

Were they doing something to her? She could feel something happening to her, but at the same time she couldn't. She didn't understand what was going on, everything seemed foreign and abnormal.

And then, she faded back into the abyss.

-

The second time, she woke with droopy eyes, using as much strength as she could manage to open them. Her head span and throbbed with a searing pain as the light burst forward, making her shade her eyes behind her hands.

The sudden movement of her arm twisted her stomach, where she felt a deep sting. Of course, now she could remember. The fight. The knife. Her stitches had reopened and then she'd blacked out.

Slowly, she dropped her arm to her side and squinted until her eyes matched the sunlight. She was still in the same room, but now she laid across an old mattress with missing springs and was turned towards the window.

Beside her sat a dark haired boy, facing towards the window so that his face was hidden. He was looking down at something, but Mara couldn't quite see what it was over his shoulder. He seemed to be one of the only people in the room, along with one or two other Gladers who seemed to be sleeping.

Mara awkwardly coughed, grabbing the boy's attention; it was Clint. Dark circles wrapped around his eyes and seemed to drown out his already black eyes. Then she noticed what he was holding- a can of some type of food. It was a bit of a disappointment; she thought it would be something interesting.

"Ah, you're awake," He acknowledged her with a dim smile, putting his can to the side. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shuck. So pretty much the same as usual." Clint laughed lightly as he checked her stomach, which had been re-stitched.

"It looks fine now. Should be good to go, as long as you don't do too much activity and take it easy then it shouldn't come undone." He told her, grabbing his food can and standing up.

"Good that." Mara lied. She wasn't going to take it easy. If she did, then she wouldn't be doing her part. She was going to do what was necessary to get out of the city and find out whatever WICKED had planned. And she was going to get revenge.

They had ruined their lives and that was not okay. They would pay. Mara was going to make sure of that.

"Look who decided to wake her shuck butt up!"

Mara twisted her head to see Minho and a few other Gladers standing in the doorway to her right, all looking scratched from the fight the day before.

Minho beamed widely once Mara spotted him and then strolled over, his arms crossed against his chest. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face, tangling with his white t-shirt.

"Least now you're not snoring. Shuck, I think you rocked the whole building."

"Slim it, slinthead. At least I'm not as bad as you. Even the Grievers ran away from you when you were asleep." She joked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. The moment she moved the pain she knew too well returned, stretching across her stomach.