Aphonic {TMR;Newt}

[4%]

I stayed put by the wall nearly for an hour, sitting against it with my back pressed against the cooled stone. Odd because the Glade itself was a humid place, while the walls were nearly the sensation of ice. Every time I touched a section it would send a nip of a shock down my brittle spine. It wasn't pleasant, but I couldn't seem to pull myself away.

Less the reason being a plethora of eyes never seeming to tear from me. According to Chuck, they not once have seen a girl in the three years they have been here.It was apparent that was true. They would look, but none seemed confident or seemed to apprehensive to come talk to me. They were not ashamed to stare, however, didn't bother to look away when I caught them. Whenever I did, I would look away back down to the journal in my lap to avoid the awkwardness that followed.

"Hey, Greenie!" Chuck left for a few moments saying he was to fetch some water and bread for us. Two silver canteens in each hand which he handed one down to me, followed by flatbread cocooned in a clean washed rag. "Watcha doing?" He occupied my left side, leaning over to see what I was busying myself with.

I was a little surprised at how close we warmed up to each other in such a small fracture of time. It was almost like I knew him from somewhere and we were just picking up a conversation we left off on.

I had been writing in the book Newt gave me for the duration of that hour non-stop. Just poem after a poem I had decided to title 'Letters'. Newt was right when he said they would stand in as my voice because if I didn't have this... I think I would have gone insane.

"Writing, " I wrote down in the corner. I showed him the four filled pages that had been vandalized.

"You like to write poems?" I nodded, flipping towards the first Letter. I offered it to him. "I can read it?" He asked, a grin spreading on his lips. I responded with a smile.

"Hope is the thing with feath-" I flicked the side of his temple, before covering my finger with my lips. I didn't want him to read it out loud and another Glader to hear it. These were personal. These were the words I couldn't express, as cheesy as it sounded. "Sorry." He apologized sheepishly, before continuing to read it in his head.

"You're really good at this!"

I mouthed a shy thank you before retrieving back my journal.

"Do you think you used to write before?" I bit the corner of my bottom lip.

"Maybe," I wrote.

"Why do you call them letters if they're poems?" I let out an airy laugh. Newt warned him about me asking questions, but he never warned me about Chuck's overly curious mind about anything and everything. I didn't mind answering his questions though, I mean, it was Chuck.

"I want to be able to look back on them if we get out. Letters of my past self." Chuck's face faltered slightly.

"You sure think a lot for someone who's new." He noted. I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing how to respond.

"How long have they been looking?" Chuck's face adjusted to be an uncomfortable one.

"Three years...." My jaw dropped in disbelief. Three years? That's how long these boys have been trapped here? All this I was astounded they had built had been created over the span of three years? Was this a jail? Was it truly purgatory?

"Don't worry. We'll get out of here eventually. Everything takes time, right?" Chuck couldn't convince me because he didn't seem convinced himself. Under the mask of a chirpy little boy, it especially showed to be obvious.

An empty silence pushed between us.

"Any thoughts on what your name could be?" He tried changing the subject. "It usually takes a few days so no rush. But for me, it kind of came by in letters. Like C....then H....till finally, I just pieced it together."