" BAD BLOOD " T. SCORCH TRIALS²

five.

[CHAPTER FIVE]
the terminator

~

Eleanor awoke to a pounding head and shaky limbs. She felt the soft mattress below her, but there was no blanket to cover her body; she knew this because she could feel the soft draft of the room she was in blowing over her bare arms and legs. The girl slowly sat up in the bed, feeling as if her entire body was being held down by fifty pound weights. It took her eyes a moment to focus, for her vision was blurry from being unconscious for so long, though once she did, she came face-to-face with a color that she had come to dread: white.

For a moment, Eleanor considered that she was dead, and that the afterlife was simply a blinding white room where she would sit until it was determined where she would spend eternity. WICKED had killed her, she was sure of it, for the few seconds of excruciating pain that she felt after the guards fired their Launchers was hands-down the worst pain she had ever felt in her life.

Eleanor quickly shook the thought away. The stab wound in her shoulder still hurt something fierce, and tiny specks of crimson blood were scattered across the fabric of her shirt where the wound had opened once more. Looking down at her attire, Eleanor realized that she was still dressed in the light blue scrubs that she had woken up in at the WICKED compound, and she longed for a fresh pair of clothes.

She pulled herself off of the mattress, fingers gripping the bars of the bunk above her bed as her legs wobbled beneath her. It felt as though tiny bolts of electricity ran through her body as she stood up, causing her fingers and toes to tingle. Looking around the room, Eleanor noticed that the only piece of furniture in the room was the bunk bed in which she had woken up on. There were two white doors on opposite walls of each other; she assumed one led to a bathroom, and the other, out of the tiny room. Eleanor started towards the nearest door, hope flaring within her as she gripped the golden doorknob in her clammy hand. She tugged, she yanked, and she turned the knob, though the door didn't budge.

It was locked.

Eleanor let out a frustrated cry as she kicked at the door, slamming her fist into the white wood. She collapsed back on to her bed, letting her body bounce around as the mattress squeaked underneath the sudden force, and she buried her face into her hands. Not even seconds later, the sound of a door squeaking open gained Eleanor's attention, and she turned her hopeful eyes on to the door that was now wide open. The boy named Aris stood in the doorway, his dark hair slightly messy as he stared at her with wide eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

Eleanor raised an eyebrow at his question. "What do you mean? I just woke up here," she explained slowly.