ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

27: I'm Out

27 Michelle

My skin sticks, compressed from hours of sleep, as I peel myself off the concrete. Shirt drenched in sweat, hair dirty with blood; I've never craved for anything like I crave a shower right now. I'm beginning to officially smell like a Glader, and normally I wouldn't care but I'm currently surrounded by my stench and only my stench.

The door creaks open, and I stand up, backing away and into the wall behind me. In steps the boy that I can't seem to escape. Everywhere I go he is only steps behind me and waiting. I don't want, nor do I need his help. Especially not when he grimaces at the sight of me, the foul taste of my skin reaching his tongue.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, and it stands up on end as he scratches his head. Why do all the boys here do that when they don't know what to say? It's fine just to be silent, in fact it's encouraged before doing weird things like that. At least Gally has the common decency just to stare at me like an old buffoon. This boy doesn't know the first thing about making a casual conversation, and I can tell simply by how he stands in his shoes.

They tap off the floor as he debates what to say. I don't know why he is here. He came to talk to me, obviously. Probably just another stuck up Glader who bribes those shanks that call themselves the police of the Glade. I've got no respect for the Baggers, and I don't have any respect for people who bribe them either.

"Alby is going to be here in an hour," he begins the conversation with a bit lip and a furrowed brow. The soft flesh scabs over from being chewed on to hard, over too many years. I wonder how long he has been awake.

I don't care, I barely know the boy.

At least that's what I tell myself. Unfortunately he has been nothing but helpful towards me. Heroically dashing in front of crashing buildings, and lying to save my skin. I may not know his name, but I know for some reason he has put his neck out for me.

My only question is why.

I doubt he will tell me though, he can barely speak.

"Why?" I prompt him further, unsure why he can't manage to speak. He came to me. I'm not obligated to say anything at all. If he wants to speak, then he had better get started.

"They found out the Baggers faked the bruise." He tells me, finally managing to make eye contact. "They know what they did is total klunk."

"Now they know?" I demand, surprised. "If anyone had the decency to ask me, they would've known days ago."

"The Baggers are in trouble," he tells me. "The one who faked it is being demoted to Slopper after all. Don't think they are going unpunished."

Yeah, sure they are being punished. One of them is being demoted. I was locked away for days on end, and I did nothing wrong. Except being here and being a girl. The other girls aren't getting in trouble because they are sleeping their ways to the top. At least I have some shape or form of integrity. All they have are tight shirts and pretty faces.

"So?"

"So you are being released today." He lets me know.

I scoff, running my tongue along my teeth before I look back at him. "Is that why you came here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were doing alright," the boy begins, looking around at the blood on the walls. "I know that it's hard to be locked up in here after all. You don't seem to be doing ok."

I don't need his pity, so instead of listening to him talk I turn my back. His footsteps echo off the concrete walls that surround us.

"Why are you always so distant?"