In my Blood

CHAPTER 8 - WICKED

I wake up to the smell of smoke and burnt wood.

Swinging my legs out of my hammock, I groan as I remember last night. I must've gotten two, maybe three hours of sleep. I kept waking up from intense nightmares, when I wasn't checking the Maze doors in paranoia. I rub my eyes groggily, and pull my (y/h/c) hair back into a messy low bun. I can feel my hair getting greasy; I need a wash. For a moment, I just sit, with my elbows resting on my knees and my face in the palm of my hands, blocking my view from the world. I feel a deep tension building in my chest, and can feel the incomings of a headache pounding between my eyebrows.

Shaking my head, I remove my hands from my face and look up to see Minho staring at me, arms folded in front of his chest. 

"You okay, shank?"

I nod weakly, attempting a smile, but it doesn't come. "Where are the others?"

"The Slammer. Thomas isn't awake yet; Gally's put him in there as a precaution. After Ben got stung and attacked Thomas the other day I don't blame him." He pauses. "Newt's waiting for you."

I stand up and jog alongside Minho to the caged door of the Slammer, where I see Newt and Chuck already waiting. The two boys look towards me and try to give me reassuring smiles.

"How is he?" I ask fearfully. I don't dare look at the boy in the small room below.

"Not much better," Newt replies truthfully, "we just have to wait till he wakes up."

"Dumb shank," Minho mutters. "What was he trying to do, kill himself?"

I notice Newt tense up beside Minho, glancing at him in an unreadable way.

"No," I sigh, "he said he needed to remember. Like Alby remembered after the Changing."

When I say Alby's name, everyone's heads sink towards the floor. The reminder feels like an aching pain through my chest, and I feel myself gong tense just thinking about last night's ordeal. 

"I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't want to make anyone upset..." I say quietly. I feel Newt's eyes searing into the back of my lowered head.

"Don't apologise," he replies. "What happened last night wasn't your fault."

I wring my hands together, before wincing as I remember my split knuckles from when I punched Gally in the jaw. Newt looks towards me in concern when I grimace from the pain, and walks over to where I'm standing.

"Can I check?" he asks, taking my hand.

"Go ahead."

As Newt begins to unwrap the bandaging, Minho coughs slightly, "I'll, um – I'll be back in a minute. C'mon, Chuck. " He smirks at Newt, who's face turns bright red.

"What?" I ask incredulously, shooting Minho a glare. He's definitely up to something.

"Nothing," Minho grins, putting his hands up in mock surrender before sauntering away, dragging Chuck with him, who's also smirking. Newt's face hasn't gotten any less redder.

"What was that about?" I laugh. Newt forces out a light-hearted laugh.

"Uh – no idea," he lies, still looking at my hand. I now see that the cut is more like a very deep gash, and my skin is swollen as it begins to turn purple with a tinge of blue. My mouth hangs open slightly as I stare down at my hand.

"It'll be back to normal in a week," Newt says, picking up the bandages again. He carefully wraps up my hand, focused on being as gentle as possible with my still-tender knuckles. I flinch slightly, though it must be nothing compared to what Thomas is enduring.